Chapter 27
WELLER
My father’s deep laugh grates against my nerves as he wins another hand, sweeping chips toward his growing pile.
I shift in my chair, feeling the weight of Bianca’s absence.
The air in this room is thick with cigar smoke and the perfume of the omegas our fathers hired for the evening.
I don’t care about anything that’s not her.
“Another round?” My father offers cigars to us again, his eyes lingering on me with annoyance when I shake my head. “Still too good for a proper smoke, I see.”
“Some of us care about our lung capacity,” Tristan drawls beside me.
Alexander scoffs at his son.
The dinner at my family’s estate earlier was an exercise in barely contained hostility.
Our mothers floated through the space like elegant ghosts, pretending everything was fine.
My mother’s pearls caught the light as she entertained, her eyes never quite focusing on anything real.
Freddie’s mother kept touching his arm, the concern obvious.
Her eyes were dull. Owen’s mother didn’t speak unless spoken to, her gaze fixed on her plate.
Emma had been there too, slipping Owen a note while their father was deep in conversation with mine about some property acquisition.
Owen had tucked it into his pocket, his face giving nothing away, but I’d seen the slight relaxation in his shoulders afterward.
Small victories in a war we’re currently losing.
“Don’t forget to re-raise when I check to you,” Vincent tells Owen now, his voice low but perfectly audible to everyone at the table. Owen’s eyes flash with anger at being treated like a child who doesn’t understand the game.
“I know how to play poker,” Owen says flatly.
“Do you?” Vincent challenges, eyeing his son. “Because lately, I’ve been questioning your judgment on all fronts.”
A scantily clad omega appears at my elbow with a fresh drink I didn’t ask for. Her scent is all wrong. Not Bianca. I take the glass just to make her go away.
“Having fun, gentlemen?” Charles Miller asks, his public charm firmly in place even here in private. “It’s been too long since we’ve had a proper boys’ night.”
“Fascinating definition of ‘fun’ you have,” Freddie mutters, just loud enough for us to hear. His father’s smile doesn’t waver, but his eyes go cold.
Across from me, Owen tenses as another omega in lingerie places her hand on his shoulder. She leans down, pressing her breasts against his back, her lips brushing his ear. I can’t hear what she whispers, but Owen’s reaction is immediate.
“Don’t touch me.”
She giggles, misreading the threat in his tone. “Don’t be like that, handsome.” She slides onto his lap, her arms wrapping around his neck as she tosses her hair. “I could make this night so much better for you.”
One second she’s on his lap, the next she’s sprawled on the floor, looking up in shock. Owen stands, towering over her, his fury evident.
“Get. The fuck. Off me.” He turns to our fathers, his voice dropping dangerously. “Either these women leave, or I do.”
“Mind your manners, boy,” Vincent growls, rising to his full height. “Sit back down.”
“No.” Owen’s hands clench at his sides. “I’ve had enough of this shit. We played nice, we had dinner with the family, we smiled for the mothers. But I’m done.”
Alexander laughs darkly. “What’s the matter, Owen? Afraid the omega might smell another woman on you? She got you that firmly under her thumb already?”
Tristan is close to snapping next to me. I press my knee against his under the table in warning.
“Her name is Bianca,” I say, my voice even despite the anger I’m struggling to control. “And I suggest you start using it.”
My father’s eyebrow raises slightly—the only sign that he’s surprised by my outburst. “The omega is quite the topic of conversation lately,” he says, deliberately ignoring my request.
Our fathers continue playing as if nothing is amiss.
Vincent leans back in his chair, spreading his arms wide.
“Come on, boys. Lighten up. These lovely ladies are a gift.” He winks at the woman Owen just shoved to the floor, who has now retreated to a corner.
“A little palate cleanser between courses, if you will.”
“Fuck you,” Owen spits.
“Is this how you talk to your father now? Seems you’ve all forgotten your place.”
“You sold me. You stopped being my father a long time ago.”
“It was a strategic alliance,” Vincent corrects, dealing another hand of cards. “Which you boys royally fucked up for pussy.”
I grip the edge of the table, forcing myself to breathe evenly.
Charles points his cigar at Freddie. “Do you have any idea what you’ve lost?”
“Our souls?” Tristan suggests dryly.
Vincent laughs. “Don’t be so dramatic. It was a business arrangement.
A damn good one.” He signals to one of the women hanging around, who immediately comes to perch on the arm of his chair.
He runs his hand up her thigh. “Besides, no one said you couldn’t have your fun on the side. What she doesn’t know won’t kill her.”
Touching anyone other than Bianca would be utterly repellent. And I know I speak for all of us. Alexander chuckles, raising his glass in a mock toast as Vincent’s hand disappears beneath her skirt.
“We’re done here.” I place my cards face down and push my chair back.
“The game’s not over, son,” my father says, his voice carrying a warning.
“Yes,” I respond, buttoning my jacket, “it is.”
Freddie and Tristan stand with me, a united front. Owen’s already halfway to the door.
“Running back to your bitch?” Alexander calls after us, his words slurring slightly from the whiskey. “Like obedient little puppies?”
“We’re not finished,” my father snaps. Three large guards appear from the shadows, blocking our exit.
For a moment, I consider the odds—four of us, three of them, plus our drunk fathers.
We could try to fight our way out, but at what cost?
Would they stop us from going home to her?
I meet Owen’s eyes, giving a subtle shake of my head.
Not yet. Not like this. Reluctantly, we turn back, sliding into our seats at the table.
The cards are reshuffled, drinks refilled, but the pretense of a friendly game has evaporated.
“She has really gotten under your skin,” my father says, eyes fixed on his cards. “She must be quite a marvel in bed to have the four of you so thoroughly whipped.”
The truth is we were under Bianca’s spell long before we ever touched her.
My father leans back in his chair, eyes gleaming with a cold glint that reminds me of why I’ve always kept an emotional distance from him.
“Did I ever tell you about my scent match?” The tension in the air is thick. He swirls the whiskey in his glass and shoots the rest. The other fathers perk up, exchanging glances. I sense a story they’ve all heard before, a joke they share at someone else’s expense.
“No.” I already suspect whatever he’s about to say will be cruel. I can feel it in the air.
“I was about your age—twenty-six, well on my way to building a name for myself.” He chuckles, but it’s a sinister sound. “She was working at a diner. Pretty little thing with chestnut hair and big brown eyes. The moment I caught her scent, I knew I would have her.”
The table goes quiet. Even the women hovering nearby seem to sense the tension, keeping their distance.
“I was seeing your mother by then, but I couldn’t resist the little vixen, nor did I try to.
Juliette was sweet and eager to please. I would’ve kept her as a pet had your mother not threatened to walk if I didn’t end it.
So I did. Your mother never cared about the other whores—only Juliette.
” He takes a long drag from his cigar, exhaling slowly.
“Your mother is an heiress with a large fortune and connections I wanted.” The silence extends.
Freddie’s knuckles are white around his glass.
Tristan’s face is a perfect mask, but I can see the muscle jumping in his jaw, and he’s tapping a slow rhythm where his hand sits on the table.
Owen stares at my father with a scowl on his face, his arms crossed over his chest.
“What happened to Juliette?” Freddie sounds mortified, like he doesn’t really want to know but can’t help but seek the fate of the woman.
My father disposed of her for physical possessions.
“I made the logical choice.” He shrugs. “I spent one more weekend fucking her out of my system and then left a large check on the nightstand. Bonded your mother within the week.” He pauses. “She never cashed the check.”
Freddie inhales sharply.
“They all have the same holes. Eventually, the novelty wears off.” Vincent lets out a harsh laugh. “Same holes, but different purposes. Speaking of, we’ve been discussing the next generation of heirs.”
“Heirs?” Tristan’s voice comes softly, and the tapping stops.
Alexander deals a new hand. “Whitney came to us before her untimely passing. While she was not physically capable of getting pregnant, we were able to collect her eggs. We already have your samples available. It’s just a matter of paperwork.
Continuing our legacies with the Montgomery bloodline was always our intention, and as soon as we can get Emmett to come to an agreement—”
“Don’t you fucking dare.” Owen explodes, slamming his hands on the table, making the chips jump. The guards reach for their dart guns, but Owen remains standing, shaking with rage.
I struggle to keep my voice level, but my hands shake. This would destroy Bianca. “You can’t be serious. Who would raise these children?”
“Caring for children is quite simple, Weller. It’s easy enough to hire women to do that.” Alexander Barrett glares at each of us. “Unfortunately, your little savage isn’t fit to carry your offspring.” He turns to Tristan.
“Our lawyers are already updating all the documents. The omega and any children she produces with you will not be acknowledged within our families and will not receive a cent.”