19. Thea
19
Thea
I strode out of my class with a massive headache. Everything the professor told us was utterly pointless. To me, at least. If I wanted to start a business - and there was zero chance of this happening - I’d hire someone to do the marketing bullshit like write press releases.
What a waste of time. That was two hours of my life I’d never get back.
And I wasn’t the only one who’d been less than invested in the lecture. Cassian had arrived late, much to the ire of the professor, and then spent most of the class tapping away on his phone. He seemed more than a little distracted.
I’d seen Lucian Forsyth in the news again this morning, crowing about the success of his operation to foil the organized crime gangs trafficking people and drugs into the UK. No doubt my father was furious about that. If NCA officers were stepping up, it would directly affect his bottom line.
My father had many income streams, but drugs were his most profitable one. He distributed cocaine from Colombia and heroin from Afghanistan and produced a range of synthetic drugs like Fentanyl in labs near home.
While the UK was not his primary market, he had links with gangs in this country, and disruption to his supply chain affected the wider operation.
Was I surprised that my father wanted to silence Lucian Forsyth? No. But I was curious about why he was going to such great lengths to do it. There had to be more I wasn’t seeing.
My gut told me Lucian’s involvement was greater than my father was saying. Yes, he was the figurehead at the forefront of the government’s renewed attack on organized crime, but this was nothing new. And more to the point, Dad was accustomed to pushback from the authorities.
So why was Lucian such a threat to him?
It made no sense. But as my father liked to remind me, my job was to do as I was told, not worry my pretty little head about our business.
I rolled my eyes as his voice popped into my head, patronizing as fuck. Was it any wonder I was so puzzled he’d enrolled me on a business course? Given his misogynistic attitude to women, which was still firmly stuck in the 1950s, I’d have expected to be here studying English or some other bullshit subject.
“Thea!” A familiar voice cut through my thoughts as I reached the glass doors of the cafeteria. The place was busy, which didn’t fill me with joy, but I was hungry and all out of protein bars.
“What do you want?” I snapped as Landon reached me.
“That’s no way to talk to your future husband,” he pouted.
His voice was like honey. It did bad things to me. Things I shouldn’t be thinking about in the middle of the day.
“Look up mariticide in the dictionary. It’s what you have to look forward to if you marry me.”
I tried to shoulder-barge him, but he was an immovable object. Yes, I could have tried harder, but my head ached and I was tired.
“You can’t fight it, Thea,” Landon said as he leaned back against the glass door, completely unmoved by the girl giving him heart eyes two feet away. Had he fucked her? Probably. “You’re mine, so accept it.”
“I’m not anyone’s, fuckboy .”
“I’m not a fuckboy!” He looked positively outraged at the thought, but I scoffed.
“Look around and tell me how many of the females in the immediate area you haven’t had sex with.”
I watched as he scanned the area, catching the eye of at least 10 girls, all of whom lit up with delight and then wilted when his gaze passed on to the next female.
“Not many,” he admitted. “But that doesn’t make me a fuckboy. It just means I have a lot of love to give.”
My lips curled up with reluctant amusement. “Sure, whatever. Now move. I’m hungry.”
“I know, which is why I’m here.”
“How do you know?”
“Cassian messaged us during your lecture to say the sounds your stomach made were distracting him.” That fucker .
“I skipped breakfast.” By the time I’d showered after working out this morning, there hadn’t been time for food.
“Come on.” He reached out for my hand, and to my surprise, I let him take it. Some girl heading toward us gasped with outrage, and a small part of me preened that Landon had chosen me over her.
“Lan!” she yelled, but he ignored her. Feeling bitchy, I threw her a wide grin as Landon led me across the lawn toward the student parking garage.
“Is this your car?” I asked, staring at the matt black G-Class.
He grinned. “Like it?”
I shrugged. “Sure, it’s pretty cool, I guess. So where are we going?”
“Hop in. It’s a surprise.”
He better not be taking me to some luxury hotel for an afternoon delight. That wouldn’t end well for him. Still sure I was making a terrible mistake, but desperate for some decent food that didn’t contain my weekly recommended allowance of trans fats, I climbed up into Landon’s obnoxiously luxurious SUV.
Ten minutes later, we were off campus and on the road out of the glen. The mountains loomed over the valley, brooding and magnificent. The longer I stayed here, the more I liked the wide open space and muted colors of Scotland.
It was nothing like my home country. There, the landscape was a mix of raw sienna and burnt umber, with flashes of green and yellow from the lemon groves. My father’s lawns were always green thanks to the extensive irrigation system, but in the heat of the summer, only the aloe plants thrived.
I still hadn’t acclimated to the damp, cold climate here, but Eden had recommended some warm clothing brands, and I’d ordered a few fleeces and thermal leggings, which helped. In all honesty, the climate of southern Europe suited me better, but the sheer beauty of this country never failed to impress.
Landon’s car ate up the miles easily. He connected his phone to the Bluetooth speakers and soon music filled the air. To my surprise, he’d selected a classical playlist.
“I figured you’d be more into Taylor Swift,” I commented with a smirk.
He snorted. “I have a varied taste in music, but today feels like a Bach day.” He indicated left and a large expanse of water appeared through the trees. High above, a huge bird soared on air currents. “A golden eagle,” he said when he saw me staring up, enraptured at the size of the thing. “There’s a breeding pair around here.”
Thank God my father wasn’t with us. He’d have shot it without a second thought. I shivered at the thought of such a beautiful creature falling prey to my father’s relentless cruelty.
We continued to follow the winding road that hugged the shore of the loch. As it narrowed, the trees thinned and a castle-like house appeared in the distance, sitting high above the water.
It was magnificent, with a gray stone edifice and pale cream spires reaching up to the sky. I leaned forward in my seat, eager for a closer look. Was it a hotel?
“The Rothmore Family seat,” Landon explained as the road ended at a set of wrought-iron gates. “My family owns properties all over the world, but this one is my favorite.”
The driveway snaked up to the house, and the closer we got, the more impressed I was. Abernethy was stunning, but this place was next level. I’d always known Landon was wealthy - almost everyone at Abernethy was, but seeing his family estate cemented it.
“Ready for lunch?” Landon asked as we pulled up outside the main entrance. I was about to say hell, yes, when a rotund woman wearing a tweed skirt and white blouse came running outside with a huge smile on her face.
“Master Landon! You didnae tell me to expect you!”
Landon jumped out and quickly opened my door for me, giving me his hand like a gentleman. I tried not to swoon, but it was damn difficult.
“Florrie, I’m sorry, it was a last-minute decision. But I’d like you to meet Thea, my future wife.”
Florrie’s eyebrows shot up into her hairline and I wasn’t sure who was more shocked: her or me.
“He’s joking,” I told her with an embarrassed smile.
“No, I’m not.” The stupid asshole winked at me. “We’re here for your cock-a-leekie, Florrie, and I’m praying you made shortbread.” She pulled Landon into her arms with genuine affection, which was clearly reciprocated.
“Och, sweet boy, we’ve missed you! You should come back more often.” There was no further mention of me as the future Mrs Rothmore, which I was grateful for. Florrie shook her head and the awkward moment passed. “Master Landon, of course there’s shortbread. Come in and make yourselves comfortable.” She waited for us to enter the house before following. “Your parents are in London.”
Landon’s smile thinned. “I know.” I had a feeling we wouldn’t be here if they were in residence. From the tension at the mere mention of his parents, it was clear they didn’t have a warm and fuzzy relationship. A bit like me and my father.
If someone handed me a gun and told me to shoot my father in the head, I wouldn’t hesitate for a second. The man deserved to die for all the things he’d done to me and Verity.
“Now, Landon, take your bonnie wee lassie and make yourselves comfortable in the garden room. I’ll be there in a jiffy to bring you some food.” She bustled off, whistling softly under her breath while I gazed up at the vaulted ceiling, admired the sweeping staircase, and took in the grandeur of the place.
It was a beautiful house. White wood paneling covered the walls, and each room we passed smelled faintly of polish and flowers. There were lots of old oil paintings hanging on walls, but alongside dour gentlemen and their horses, I spotted numerous vases of fresh flowers, pale blue and green sofas, pretty table lamps and glassware.
I was thoroughly charmed by the time Landon pushed open a pair of glazed doors into a huge Victorian glasshouse filled with greenery. Everywhere I looked, there were plants, fruit trees, and fragrant blooms.
Despite the high glass ceilings, the room was also warm, which surprised me, given it was cold outside.
“There are heaters,” Landon explained. “My mother is obsessed with growing things, and many of her favorite plants prefer warm temperatures.” He led me toward a table and chairs near the back of the room, which overlooked sweeping gardens and the loch beyond.
The clouds had thickened since we arrived, coating the water with a sense of foreboding. I shivered as a curtain of rain fell, obscuring the view.
“Cold?” Landon asked, misinterpreting my reaction. He edged his chair nearer mine, close enough that our legs touched, and rested his heavy palm on my thigh.
A sensible girl would have brushed him off and moved away, but I wasn’t thinking straight.
“No.”
“Shame,” he whispered in my ear as Florrie entered the garden room, pushing a small trolley piled high with refreshments. “I can think of a few ways to warm you up.”
“There’ll be no funny business, Master Landon,” Florrie scolded, taking note of his hand on my thigh. “This poor wee girl looks like she needs a hearty meal inside her, so leave her be.”
Landon chuckled, not at all abashed at Florrie’s insinuation. She placed a bowl of piping hot soup in front of me. “Help yourself to a cob, lassie. There’s butter in the dish.” The soup smelled amazing, and the bread was still warm. I was in food heaven.
Next, Florrie produced a pot of tea, some milk, sugar, and a plate of her famous shortbread on the table.
“Ring the bell if you need me, Master Landon.” Florrie smiled knowingly before leaving us to our food, closing the door behind her so we had some privacy.
I dived into my food with abandon, relishing the delicious flavors.
“That was so good,” I groaned once I’d demolished the soup, a bread roll, and some shortbread, all washed down with a cup of strong tea.
Landon grinned. “It’s one of the reasons I stay on campus. If I lived here and commuted, I’d weigh at least ten-stone more.”
My eyes slid down his chest, lingering on abs barely concealed beneath a tight shirt. There was no way this guy would ever be out of shape. I was fit, but he was next-level. Zero body fat. All cut muscles.
“Yeah, right,” I scoffed, enjoying the light-hearted banter between us, which was a surprise. I’d expected him to drag me to some restaurant, attempt to get into my pants, and piss me off in the process. But he’d done none of that.
Instead, he had brought me here, shown me heaven in a soup bowl, and made me feel like a queen. All while behaving like a gentleman.
Was I half in love with him already?
Possibly.
“We should probably go,” Landon admitted as he glanced at his watch. I suppressed a sigh of disappointment. As much as I hated to admit it, being here was a lovely escape.
“Sure.” I stood to leave, but Landon reached out for my wrist.
“Before we do, I’d like to show you my mom’s collection of deadly plants. She’s really proud of them.”
Color me intrigued. This I had to see. Landon took my hand and led me between two towering palm trees. The plants back here were lush and fragrant, the humid air heavy with perfume from a large shrub covered in clusters of pretty pink flowers.
“Oleander,” Landon explained. “It’s one of the most poisonous plants in the world. Eat this plant and you’ll suffer from seizures, drowsiness, and then death.”
“Interesting.”
“Don’t go getting any ideas, you psycho,” Landon warned with a smirk. He pointed to a large plant with star-shaped leaves and red flowers. “The castor bean plant, where ricin comes from.” We walked on. “Belladonna,” he said, showing me a small plant with reddish-purple flowers. “Angel’s Trumpet. Amazonian tribes use this one as a hallucinogen, but in larger doses, it’s lethal.”
“Is your mom an assassin?” I asked, totally serious. If I had these plants growing in a greenhouse, they’d see a lot of use. The possibilities were endless. It made me smile to imagine Torrance suffering from fatal seizures after ingesting some oleander.
“No, she just gets a kick out of dangerous plants,” laughed Landon. “I keep hoping she’ll experiment on Dad, but no luck so far.” He grinned, but there was a distinct lack of humor.
“Is your father…” I hesitated, unaccustomed to sharing personal information, but something told me we had a lot in common. It seemed prudent to choose my words carefully. “An unpleasant person?”
“So tactful, Thea.” Landon chuckled softly before reaching out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind my ear. He tugged me forward, and we sat down on a bench nestled between two spiky green shrubs. I hoped neither of them was deadly because one had just stabbed me in the arm.
“My father has certain expectations of me. I’m his son, so he wants me to take over the family business empire, marry some well-bred young woman, and be his puppet.”
“And that’s not what you want,” I concluded.
“Honestly? I have no clue what I want from my life, but I do know it doesn’t involve sitting in boardrooms negotiating with crusty old men or marrying a girl of my father’s choosing.”