Chapter 9 - Rosalia #2
Rosalia turned towards her, sheepishly tucking a hair behind her ear, “Yes, well, customs officers can be convinced to turn a blind eye if given the right…motivation.”
Dane let out a great belly laugh, slapping Felix on the back. “See, didn’t I tell you! This one’s got a couple tricks up her sleeve.”
“You don’t say,” Cassie grinned, elbowing Felix from the other side. “Very sneaky, Rosalia.”
Felix looked at her with a sort of puzzled satisfaction, as if he had been trying to work her out and the final piece had just slotted into place, “Right motivation, you say?”
Rosalia’s cheeks flushed. “Well, let’s just say they recently got in a new policy about not infringing on shifter cultural rights. Sadly for them, they didn’t get very good lawyers to draft the policy. It was full of loopholes.”
Felix looked almost too impressed to be angry, and the others just laughed in delight.
And Rick…Rick was looking at her with an expression she’d never seen before. Raw. Amazed. Too shocked to say a single word.
She couldn’t help her victorious smile. She doubted many had ever rendered the great Frederick Reinhardt mute.
At her smile, his face changed. Grew darker. Hungrier.
Something completely unfamiliar tightened low in her belly, and she swallowed, her eyes not breaking contact with his.
Dane coughed, snatching Rick’s attention away as he pointedly jerked his head towards the refreshments table. “Well, I happen to spy some traditional kegs of ale over there. Fancy a cup?”
“Yes, please do go get drinks,” Rosalia said in a rush, smoothing her hair down and blinking away the strange, electric feeling of Rick’s eyes on her. “There are snacks too! Dinner won’t be for another few hours yet. I should…go to the kitchen. Check in on everything!”
“But Rosalia,” said Daisy, reaching for her, “you’ve already done so much! Why don’t you come with us to get a drink—”
“I won’t be long,” said Rosalia, already halfway down the stairs, suddenly desperate for a breath, a moment alone, “you go on without me! I’ll be back in a minute!”
She didn’t wait for Daisy’s response before rushing into the house, not daring to turn back and see if Rick was looking at her.
She was hot, too hot, she needed some water.
The kitchen was, blessedly, empty when she staggered in, heels clicking against the marble. She filled a glass with cool water and guzzled it down, pressing a hand against her forehead.
What was wrong with her? One look from Rick and suddenly she was spiraling. It was ridiculous.
And yet…there had been so much heat in his eyes. Unrestrained, bold, powerful. It made her legs weak and her breath quicken.
What would he have done if Dane hadn’t interrupted? Because for a brief, fleeting second, she had wondered if he might…
The door slammed open, and she jumped, whirling around, her glass clutched to her chest.
When she saw who it was, the blood drained from her face, heat freezing over into icy dread.
“Rosalia,” her father said, scowling at her, “what on earth are you doing, jumping out of your skin like that?”
“I’m so sorry, Father,” she said automatically, straightening her spine and bowing her head, snapping straight back into the model of a perfect, obedient daughter.
Her teeth ground together, fists shaking as she clenched them by her sides.
She had forgotten what it was like. What her father’s presence did to her.
He grunted. “I arrived just to see you fleeing your pack. Your husband. What sort of hostess runs away from her own gathering?”
She swallowed. “I didn’t realize you were coming. You never replied to the invit—”
“Why would I need to reply?” her father scoffed. “I’m not some common, bottom-feeding mongrel. Of course, I came. I needed to check in on you and our alliance.”
Her fingernails bit into her palms, painful and sharp. “Of course. I’ll make sure a room is prepared for you.”
“Don’t bother,” he said, “I’ve booked in at one of Accardi’s hotels. My men and I will be staying there for the weekend.”
Rosalia’s head whipped up. “You brought others?”
Her father raised an eyebrow. “Did you expect me to come to another pack’s territory alone? Honestly, Rosalia, what has happened to your good senses? Two months away from home, and you seem to have forgotten everything I taught you.”
She breathed out. At least if her father had brought others, that might mean Katie had also come. Her friend was one of the first people she’d invited, desperate to see her again, but she hadn’t heard anything, and Katie had made no mention of the party in her most recent letter.
“Is Katie…?”
“No,” her father said, his voice clipped, “we won’t be staying long. And as I’ve told you, you need to focus on building bridges with the females of the Iron Walkers.”
Rosalia swallowed her disappointment, careful to keep her face blank. “Of course, Father.”
He walked closer towards her, circling her with almost predatory intent. She kept her eyes trained on the ground, folding her hands in front of her so that he would not see them tremble.
“It seems Reinhardt is treating you well,” her father mused. “I’m glad you seem in good health.”
‘Thank you, father,’ she said, glancing up at him in surprise.
He hummed. “All the better to ensure you fall pregnant. It’s a shame you’re not already with child, but I suppose it has only been two months. It’s the only way I can see around Reinhardt’s ridiculous nanny ploy.”
She looked back down at the floor. Of course.
“How are things in the Iron Walkers?” her father asked, inspecting a grazing board with a wrinkled nose. “Word is Felix may have himself a spot of trouble with those Black Claws.”
“I…haven’t heard anything,” Rosalia said carefully. After all, she hadn’t, not really. Just the odd half-conversation between Rick and the other Iron Walkers. Nothing definitive. Nothing that wasn’t already common knowledge.
Her father looked at her, and she fought not to squirm under his scrutiny. An awful habit she’d never fully been able to shake.
“And what does Rick make of it all?” her father asked, his voice deceptively light. His politician’s tone.
Rosalia swallowed. “I imagine he just wants to keep his pack safe, father. Our pack, I mean.”
“Come now,” he said. “Surely, he’s let something slip. I can’t imagine he’s happy with Felix's insistence on peace, and a man often feels compelled to share his woes with a woman after bedding her. He’s not said anything at all on the matter?”
She fought to keep her expression neutral, despite the blood pounding in her ears.
He was looking at her with that horrible little smile, like he knew something she didn’t.
Or he’d worked out one of her secrets. Of course, he could just be bluffing, getting her to reveal something.
There was truly no way for her to tell which it was.
And yet, she couldn’t help but feel like she was caught in his net, and anything she said would just twist her up tighter.
“He…doesn’t stay long. Afterwards. He likes to keep his own council.”
Her father was silent for a moment, and she tried not to let her anxiety show.
It would be only too easy to slip up, to say something wrong, to inadvertently tell him that her marriage was nothing more than a sham.
She may be an Iron Walker now, but her father wouldn’t let that get in his way if he thought for even a moment that she was ruining any of his meticulously crafted plans.
“It’s interesting,” her father said after a while, his gaze artfully neutral, “I’d understood that Rick once stood to inherit the Iron Walkers. I don’t imagine a male like that would give up on such a legacy with such… benevolence.”
This was a dangerous game indeed. Rosalia was no fool. Her father would dance endlessly around any scrap of information, any morsel of intrigue, and only when you had implicated yourself sufficiently would he go in for the kill.
But unlike an enemy alpha, if she evaded him too perfectly, or just called him on his plotting outright, he would not hesitate to force the information from her.
Her father did not dig for useless bones. He always had a motive.
“From what I’ve heard,” she said, waving her hand with what she hoped was airy dismissal, “the transition wasn’t easy. They fought more than once. But Rick knew what he was doing when he bent the knee to Felix.”
Her father’s eyes narrowed, “From what you’ve heard?”
She swallowed. “Yes, father, Rumor. Gossip. That sort of thing.”
“So he hasn’t said anything himself?” he replied, “No frustration at Felix’s law? No… speculations on what his own law might look like?”
If she said yes, he would pounce. If she said no, he would think she was lying and strike.
“I’m afraid the rumors only stretch so far, father.”
He looked at her, hard. Icy eyes drilled into her, his mouth a tight line.
Then, he scoffed, turning away from her. “It figures he doesn’t trust you. You’re a female. Not one of the inner circle.”
She tried not to let his words get to her. Tried not to let the sting of his disappointment show through.
He brushed a hand through his hair, his eyes narrow and thoughtful. “You’ll have to make him trust you. And for that to happen, you’ll have to do a hell of a lot better than this mess.”
She looked up at him in shock. “Mess?”
He gestured around the kitchen, to the plates of food, the spare decorations. “This! All this for that brat of his. It’s not nearly good enough.”
Her lips parted, her eyebrows drawing together in shock. “Father, I don’t—”
“I thought I taught you better than this,” he said, his voice rising slightly, his gaze turning sharp and accusatory. “This would have been the perfect opportunity for you to prove yourself, and instead, what have you done?”
Anger began to bubble up, her wolf growling low in her chest. “Eva loves it. Everyone is having a good time. I followed all the traditional practices, hired experts, everything you would have done—”