13. Cassian
13
Cassian
O livia made my blood boil. How dare she claim I’m hers? I belong to no one, least of all her. I fucked her once, at a party when I was insanely drunk. It was a forgettable experience, but ever since then, she’s acted like we’re in a relationship.
I guess she hadn’t heard about my impending engagement to Camilla. Father must not have spread the joyful news yet. No doubt he was waiting until he and John Bale-Lyon had hashed out an agreement they were both happy with. Knowing my father, a seat on the Bale board wouldn’t be enough; he’d be angling for a controlling stake.
Not that John Bale-Lyon was likely to give him one. In business circles, Bale-Lyon had a fearsome reputation. He played hardball, just like my father. They were both cut from the same cloth.
My mind drifted away from Camilla and Olivia and strayed back to Thea.
I’ll admit she intrigued me, despite what I said to Milo about her being unimportant.
Any woman who could take down four guys three times her size, all at once, was a conundrum. She had to have had training. Moves like that were taught, not instinctive, which made me wonder what she was hiding.
She’d already caught Milo’s attention. I wasn’t blind. I could see he’d been up all night scouring data, trying to find out who she was. But judging by his frustrated expression when I walked into his room this morning, he hadn’t succeeded.
The fact she was here, at Abernethy, was a concern. Women like her didn’t move in our circles. The girls I’d grown up with were well-bred fillies born to be good wives and mothers. The trad-wife trope was alive and well in my parents’ world.
My mother was the daughter of a well-heeled family with a long and illustrious heritage dating back to William of Orange, but like many old families, they’d ended up down on their luck thanks to poor decisions and hefty death duties.
Mother had married my father because he was wealthy. Like my planned marriage to Camilla, their marriage was a pragmatic arrangement. Father’s family had fewer aristocratic connections, but more money.
Theirs was not a love match; it was a mutually beneficial partnership - to my father, anyway.
Just like any marriage contract I signed would be.
There was no such thing as marrying for love in my world. I’d resigned myself to that fact years ago. If I was lucky enough to meet someone I could love, she was highly unlikely to end up as my wife. The best she could hope for was becoming my mistress.
It was why I had my emotions well and truly locked down. What was the point in forming an emotional attachment to some girl, when my father would stop at nothing to ensure she never got her claws into me?
“Cassian!” Landon’s voice pulled me out of my maudlin thoughts as I pushed the door to the fitness center open.
He huffed with annoyance when he caught up with me. “I’ve been calling your name for, like, an hour!”
“Don’t exaggerate, Lan. It’s taken me ten minutes to walk from the cafeteria, and you weren’t there when I left.”
“OK, so maybe five minutes.” He broke into a grin as I dropped my bag into a locker and started unbuttoning my shirt, prepping for a sparring session with Kyril. I had a lot of aggression to work through. “I hear you tore into Olivia,” he chuckled.
“The silly bitch deserved it. I’m sick of her simping all over me.”
“Well she’s not happy, so I hope you’re ready for her stalker shit to escalate.”
I shrugged as I unbuttoned my pants and pulled a pair of shorts out of my locker. “She’ll soon back off when the engagement notice is published in The Times.”
Landon’s eyes widened in horror. “Fuck, is he still making you get engaged to the Troll?”
“Yeah. Father’s organized an engagement photo shoot for this weekend.” Yet another reason why I needed to burn off some steam. He called me just as my ethics lecture ended this morning. Nothing like a death sentence to kill my mood. Olivia was lucky I only eviscerated her verbally. The way she was carrying on, I’d felt like punching her in the face. Not that I hit women, but in her case, I’d make an exception.
Blood gushed from my nose. At least Kyril hadn’t fared much better. His left eye had started to swell, and he had at least one bruised rib. Most of the time, he took it easy on me, but not today. The moment we got into the ring, I unleashed my temper on him, and because he was my friend, he fought back viciously, knowing exactly what I needed.
After an hour of sparring, I was exhausted but less keyed up. I may also have had a broken nose, which would piss my father off immensely, but I was all out of fucks to give.
“What’s eating you, anyway?” Kyril asked between gulps of water.
“My father.”
He nodded with understanding. His father was as bad as mine, just less polished.
“What’s he done this time?”
I wiped the blood and sweat from my face and grimaced at the crunching sound my nose made when I pressed it. I’d better ice it when I got back to the apartment.
“I have to go home this weekend for an engagement photo shoot.”
Kyril looked at me with sympathy. “What are you going to do? Marrying that fucking cyka is a fate worse than death.” He hummed thoughtfully. “Want me to get rid of her? There can’t be a wedding if the bride has gone AWOL.”
“Tempting though that offer is, I’d prefer it if you didn’t end up incarcerated at His Majesty’s Pleasure for the next 20 years.”
Kyril rolled his eyes. “I wouldn’t do the job myself, brat . I’m not that dumb. The Lev brothers owe me. I’m sure they’d happily get rid of the ugly cunt for a bargain price.”
It was impossible not to smile at his ridiculous suggestion, but disposing of Camilla wouldn’t solve my problems. My father would no doubt produce some other whore for me to marry. “I’ll take your offer on advisement,” I said with a sigh.
The truth was, I couldn’t see a way out of this engagement to Camilla. If I tried to go against my father, he’d make my life impossible. While I might have a chance of escaping him, despite his very long reach, my mother was stuck there.
There was no way I could abandon my mother, even if she had checked out a long time ago.