Chapter 8
Chapter
Eight
Alexei
As soon as my brother's back is turned, I bare my teeth again, my rage tearing away from its short leash. It took my fucking moron of a brother all of two seconds after spotting that girl to rush down to the gardens to see his bride.
He's wasting no time.
Proposing four seconds after meeting her. Heading off to woo her before his bag is even unpacked. It's pathetic. And stupid. Two things my brother usually isn't.
I'm still at the window, knuckles clutched on the sill, watching as he approaches and gets blocked by one of their men. The one with something needlessly possessive in his eyes as he mouths off at Victor. Prince.
Ultimately though, Victor gets his way and I deflate, both Fallon and Prince retreating as he takes a seat on the bench next to the girl.
Of course, I can't know what he's saying to her. But if I know my brother, he'll melt her. As icy as she might want to be, Victor is fire, and he'll burn away all her defenses. That's what he'll expect to do. My eyes are laser focused on them, with my finger pulling at my lip as I frown.
The girl, she is of no consequence. Merely a beautifully packaged pawn in a game being played by larger men.
She is breathtaking. That's not up for debate. When I first saw her earlier, she took my fucking breath away. Her green eyes locked on mine the second I exited the car. I swear the windows weren't transparent, but I hooked onto her like a honing missile.
I watch their conversion in the garden as Victor shakes her hand.
Jesus. Proposal first, introductions second?
My brother has lost his fucking mind. It is not the girl we should be focusing on.
But it's like Victor doesn't even see Prince watching him, steam rising from the man's head like a kettle.
He probably doesn't even see Fallon still lurking nearby in the hedges, listening at an even closer range as he fiddles with a flick knife.
Yeah. My brother is a fucking idiot.
To walk us into enemy territory was unintelligent. But to draw all his attention to her and ignore the threats around him, that's just reckless.
The girl levels Victor with an icy glare as she grabs his hand in an obvious death grip. I almost smirk. She looks like she'll be a lot of work, and sure, Victor loves a chase, but I'll never understand why one girl is worth all this.
Then, my brother does something that makes her laugh. I feel a thaw in my chest, watching her mouth open wide, head tipped back on a laugh. Suddenly, the world that I've always seen in a black, white and gloomy gray comes rushing forward in color.
Fuuuuuuuck.
No. That can't happen. I haven't had a heart for eighteen of my twenty-nine years. I don't plan on having it start beating now.
I shake my head. One of us needs to retain clarity if we're going to survive here without getting murdered in our sleep. An option that admittedly has crossed my mind more than once.
Victor doesn't stay in the garden long, thankfully, and when I see him retreat, I break from the window to follow him.
I know he's probably trying to avoid me.
I've got a legendary temper, and I have been loose with it ever since Vic told me we'd be coming here.
I've given my brother a piece of my mind constantly over the last few days, and since he doesn't even notice Fallon stalking him as he walks away, I plan on tracking him down so I can serve him another slice.
I come down the mansion's historic stairs, my brother's men still carrying shit up and down, and head towards the back of the house. I'm rounding a back corridor near the kitchen when I collide with someone in my haste.
It's her. The girl.
Sage DeMarco stops in front of me. The corridor is dark, barely wide enough to fit both of us through. She startles when she finds it's me blocking her path, eyes locking onto mine as her mouth rounds in a little 'o'. I look her up and down, a snarl on my lips.
We both just stand there as I wait for her to get out of my fucking way. I do not have time to busy myself with her, someone of absolutely no importance, when I'm writhing in the middle of a pit of snakes.
I arch a brow. I don't want to, but if she doesn't move out of the way in the next three seconds, I will move her myself.
"Hello," she says. I expect her to be breathless, but she's not. Despite the innocently surprised look on her face, her voice comes out hard and sultry. I frown but brush it off.
"Watch where you're going." I attempt to brush past her, but she jumps back in my path. That fucking white dress drawing my attention where it swishes over her thighs.
"Whoa, rude much?"
Is she still talking? Jesus. I don't have time for this. Still, I narrow my eyes on her. "What? Were you expecting me to fawn? Kiss your hand maybe?"
She frowns and raises one eyebrow, as if she's saying: well, yeah. She shakes her head once before affixing a smile to her face.
"I'm Sage," she says, giving me a cute little wave. I fight the ridiculous urge to smile and attempt to push past her again. I knock her shoulder against mine, but she doesn't budge, a surprising amount of strength in her stance. Something prickles against my skin. Awareness. Intuition.
Okay, temptress. I'm fucking listening.
I sigh. "And?"
We're trapped in the tight space, locked in place by pride which forces me to wrestle to assert dominance. I turn my head to her, finding her already watching me. Pride shines in her eyes too. Interesting.
"You know," she grates out, holding me hostage with her shoulder in the tight space. "It's polite and normal to introduce yourself back."
"You already know who I am."
"Yeah," she sniffs. "The other Rushkoff. The bat shit crazy one."
My mouth tilts up at the corners. "That sounds about right."
"Yours is the kind of reaction I was expecting from your brother. But he just-"
"Fell at your feet?" I smirk. "Forgive me, but I won't be doing the same."
Why the fuck am I still standing here? Why won't my feet move, dammit?
! In the big picture, she's trivial and insignificant.
No amount of beauty can automatically make anybody worthy.
I drop my voice to a whisper and lean into her.
"Why are you accosting me in a hallway? Did you drop your silver spoon, princess? Can't pick it up all by yourself?"
Something goes hard in her eyes and I barely contain my surprise before it shows on my face. Her eyes, which had previously been innocent and demure, suddenly turn rough and calculated. As if, before, there was a wall behind her eyes and now, it's dropped.
"What the fuck did you just say to me?" She knocks her shoulder against me, jostling me back a step.
"I don't have time for introductions or any of your childish, spoiled games, princess. I won't be getting to know you, and I do not plan on letting my brother tie his life to yours."
I slide past her and stomp away before she can respond.
"Hey!"
I pick up my pace, finally finding the exit. I push open the door at the end of the corridor and come out somewhere around the side of the house. I can smell chlorine, so the pool must be nearby. Looking back, I see vines crawling up the side of the house.
I go to move again, but she grips my elbow and pulls me back around to face her. I do. Not. Like. That.
I turn to her slowly. Venom on my tongue. "Let me the fuck go."
She just grips my elbow tighter, twisting until the skin burns and I pull it back from her.
"You're a prick, actually."
"Oh," I pout. "How will I live with myself knowing the DeMarco princess thinks so little of me?"
"Oooft, I don't like you."
"Yeah? I'm cut up. Fuck off."
I roll my eyes and go to turn away before I see her stomp her foot. Actually stomp her foot.
I freeze.
Her movement is slightly robotic. I see it on her face before she makes the move that she's decided she's going to.
Like I'm watching an actor play out a line in their head before they say it.
I can see the decision so clearly. It wasn't drawn by emotion, but by some trick of the mind.
That ember of awareness from earlier suddenly bursts into full on flame.
She groans and stomps off, irritated little breaths huffing out of her.
I do not follow. Instead, I watch her. Halfway back to the house, her gait changes.
She's not storming off, but walking tall and proud.
Steady. Does she think I'm out of her line of sight?
Before she disappears into the house, she turns to look back at me too.
There's a little snarl on her face, but her expression is glistening.
Holy fuck.
I see it then.
Like every day, threats are boxed up into packages that we don't expect them to come in. Traps are traps for a reason. For their intention to fool until it's too late. Despite what Victor thinks, I see more than most, and now I understand why my eyes locked onto her the second we got here.
In a room full of killers, murders and criminals, she's the one who my intuition was drawn to. Body language a paradox to her behavior.
Everything about her, from her attire all the way through to that look she wears on her face.
She's designed to look delicate. Designed to look feminine and small.
Designed to make men like my brother think with their dicks.
To think they could shelter her and coo her and save her like a damsel.
Long, tan legs. Arms toned and deadly. Her breasts full, on display enough to entice but not tease.
And now I'm sure of it. Sage DeMarco is not a damsel, despite the front she puts on to look like one.
When she sees me watching her, she fixes her expression and slams the door to the house. She locks it too. Like that one act of childish defiance is going to halt my assessment.
The real threat is sitting right here in front of us, dressed in white lace.
It's not the marriage document. It's not any of the men.
It's Sage Fucking DeMarco.
The siren with doe eyes.