18. The Guest
18
The Guest
Caspian
Twice since my appointment with Jezebel, I’ve stood outside Annalise’s bedroom. Both times, I paced for at least five minutes, then walked away without having the courage to knock.
I’m the last person she wants to hear from, the last person she wants to see , and I can’t fucking blame her. If I’m honest, I’ve had a hard time even looking at myself lately.
“Congrats, Bigshot.”
I peer up from the document I’m using to distract myself when Creed’s strange greeting steals my attention.
“Am I missing something?” Confused, I arch a brow, holding Creed’s gaze as he and Dimitri step toward my desk, and then lower into the armchairs.
Creed seems shocked by my lack of understanding. “You mean no one’s told you yet? I thought Archibald would’ve been all over it, with him being such an avid military buff.”
“They’re honoring you with this year’s Commendation of Gallantry at the military ball,” Dimitri clarifies. “My guess is it’s because the clan’s stats have been fan-fucking-tastic lately. I know I haven’t supported every change you’ve implemented, but… well done, Brother.”
The corner of his mouth lifts with a half-smile, and it’s the most genuine gesture of kindness I’ve seen from him in a while.
“Thank you.”
“But there’s one small dilemma,” he says. “Your invitation comes with a plus-one, not a plus-four. Good luck deciding which of your women to have on your arm that evening.”
And just like that, Dimtri’s back to his usual snarky, smug self. When he laughs, I want to lock my hands around his neck and squeeze.
“Speaking of our new additions,” he says, “I’m going to need resources funneled toward security. With the others moving into the estate soon, they’ll need their own detail.”
“They’re… moving in already?” The weight on my shoulders increases as that question leaves my mouth.
Dimitri’s laughter thunders again. “Don’t seem so surprised. This is what you wanted, isn’t it?”
I loosen my tie, feeling like I’ll lose my breath if I don’t. “Things are just progressing more quickly than I imagined.”
“If you’d like more time, I’ll hold them off for as long as you need,” Creed offers, and I’m nodding before he even finishes.
“Please. The longer the better.”
Beneath my desk, I tighten my fist, feeling the familiar buzz in my tendons that alerts me of an oncoming tremor. I’m aware of how my reluctance to bring the women to the estate contradicts the very reason behind the arrangements I’ve so carefully made. To Dimitri and Creed, I’m certain it sounds as though I’m biding my time.
Time I’m not even sure I still have.
“Consider it done,” Creed says. “But I should warn you, the ladies’ guardians—their fathers and grandfathers—have become quite involved in the process.”
Confused, I frown. “Involved? What does that even mean?”
He takes a breath, gathering his thoughts. “Well, for starters, Wilhemena’s grandfather, Supreme Arbiter Emory, has privately requested that Wilhemena be allowed to break protocol. He’s asked that you two begin the process of attempting to produce an heir before the Soulfast Unity Rite is performed. Apparently, he has connections that would make it possible to bypass the need for the council’s involvement and validation of the heir’s conception.”
Creed’s statement lingers in the air unanswered, because I’m not even sure what to say. The idea of Arbiter Emory, a highly respected, high-ranking judge, even suggesting this—that I fuck and impregnate his granddaughter—simply to secure her status, sickens me. Whether he’s hungry for money, power, or both, I’m completely disgusted.
My mind immediately shifts to Annalise, hearing her accusations that the clan is inherently sexist and driven by the male ego. She’d probably be more appalled than I am by the idea of a man using his own granddaughter as a pawn, albeit a willing one.
Dimitri laughs, and Creed and I both turn when he speaks. “Know what? I’d bet my left nut this request came straight from Wilhemena herself.”
“You read my mind,” Creed grumbles.
Dimitri stretches in his seat, still smiling. “My only request is that I get an invitation to the cat fight when she and Annalise finally claw one another’s eyes out.”
Annalise has made her grievances known, but I don’t go into detail, keeping my response to my brother vague. “I’m pretty sure she hates them all equally.”
Dimitri shoots me an incredulous look as he shakes his head. “She may hate them all, but the tension between those two, specifically, can’t even be cut with a fucking chainsaw. Mark my words, those two are going to scrap it out one of these days.” He laughs again, but I’m ignoring him, wondering what might’ve transpired right under my nose. “Oh, come on. You mean to tell me you haven’t noticed the dirty looks that pass between them? The just-die-already body language?”
I’m afraid to answer Dimitri’s question, fearing I’ve missed something incredibly obvious. Especially with how Creed’s also staring me down at the moment.
But in my defense, I’ve hardly even spared the other women a passing glance. Even my selection of them was about as calculated as throwing darts at a board blindfolded. I simply wanted to get the process over with. Only, now, I’m wishing I’d paid more attention. On top of Annalise already hating everything about this, I’ve unintentionally chosen her enemy as a mate.
“Fuck.”
Neither Creed nor Dimitri responds to my outburst. Tension causes my jaw to tighten as I scramble, wondering how to undo what’s already been done.
An impatient knock interrupts the silence, but before I can invite the caller inside, the door swings open. And as I stare in disbelief, one of the last people I ever expected to see tonight—or wanted to see tonight—storms into my study.
Her dark eyes are fixed on me, and without so much as even acknowledging Dimitri or creed, she slams an envelope down on my desk.
“Caspian Evander Thornhill,” she says through gritted teeth, leaning closer until we’re eye-to-eye. “What the ever-loving fuck have you done?”
Her question echoes throughout the study, and my heart races with rage. The audacity of someone barging in on this meeting infuriates me, especially when that someone makes zero apologies for the imposition. But why would I expect anything else from a woman so notoriously brazen and contrary?
My gaze lowers to the envelope that now rests on my desk, and I recognize it immediately. It holds sensitive information that was never meant for anyone’s eyes outside of a chosen few.
“Out,” I say, trying to keep my cool, but it’s no use. “Now!” I shout when Dimitri and Creed seem to miss that I’m speaking to them and not our unexpected guest. Finally understanding, they rise from their seats and exit the room without question, leaving me to face a ghost from our family’s past.
One who can’t seem to just… stay gone.