Chapter 5
Chapter
Five
Sage
“Sit down and I'll explain everything."
Anton's voice doesn't crack, but his eyes do, giving away his nervousness.
I glance around the room at the three sets of eyes that watch me like I'm a wild animal. I hold the paper away from my body and they all follow the movement, like the document will detonate at any second.
"Explain everything, and I'll sit down," I counter, raising my brow.
Freddie catches on first. He purses his lips, nods and then taps Nic on the shoulder. "Come now, let's leave them to it."
Nic tears his shoulder back, jaw clenching, as he resists Freddie's pull. He doesn't want to go. He really wants to be here for this. My head tilts in contemplation. Was he against me ever finding out about this at all?
Freddie tugs on Nic's shoulder with more force. Nic gives me a once-over, sparing a scathing glance at the document, which is far too dramatic a look to be directed at an A4, before he squares his shoulders and storms out.
The door clicks closed behind them as Freddie sees himself out as well.
Uncle Anton's posture relaxes. "Come sit down, anima mia."
My father's nickname for me stings, but I do as he says, taking the seat in front of his desk. Instead of stepping behind the desk, Anton takes the seat next to mine.
"I can explain," he starts, lifting his head in a wince.
Christ. He can't be serious.
"Great fucking start, Anton." I roll my eyes and fold back into my chair with a huff, insolently crossing my arms over my chest.
"Sage. Language, for the love of God." He rubs at his temples, and in this moment it's hard not to take pity on him. My father's shoes are hefty ones to fill and walk a mile in.
I stare down at the document in my hands, the carefully crafted words scrawled across it in dark black ink. When I lift my head, I notice Anton can barely look at me.
"You weren't going to tell me, were you?"
His eyes shutter. "Eventually, anima mia. Eventually..."
I should've been told about this. Really, I'm the only one it concerns. Betrayal stings deep into my blood. They're never going to see me as anything other than delicate. Made of glass. Ready to shatter.
The mutilated skin on my back and stomach says otherwise.
"Then tell me now." It's a command. "Don't leave anything out."
Anton's lip twitches, and he watches me like he sees someone else behind my eyes. To my surprise, he does as I say.
"Shortly after your father passed, this document showed up. His legacy, succession plan... whatever you want to call it."
I nod, urging him to continue.
"It's no secret that the treaty with the Rushkoffs has been flimsy at best. Caging at worst." He thumbs his jaw. "Your father had been working on a renewed peace deal. One that was supposed to be shot to hell when he-"
Anton stops himself, looking at the document in my lap before dragging his eyes back to mine.
"It promises you to Victor Rushkoff upon his death. As a peace treaty," Anton says.
It's then that he finds the courage to look at me, one hand pressed firmly over his jaw and the other nervously spinning his watch. I give him nothing in return. Not until I'm sure there's nothing he's conveniently leaving out.
"Yet I'm still sitting here. With you," I say.
His hands drop against his thighs with a large slap. "You haven't said yes to him."
I bark out a sarcastic laugh. "I don't think this specifies much of a choice." I wave the document in front of me before depositing it on the desk.
Anton's knee bounces. "Victor Rushkoff wants this to go ahead. He's a lunatic, anima mia. He's bought you a God damn ring and everything. In his mind, it's concrete," he says.
"Concrete?!" I jump out of my chair. "But what about-"
"Doesn't. Matter." Anton pins me with a look, and I know what he's asking me not to say. The fact he worries about saying it here, even in the privacy of his own office, is alarming.
"Well, he seems serious," I sigh.
Anton blows out a breath and then stands, beginning to pace.
His words come out fast, like he has to push them out before his body explodes from holding them inside.
"The document showed up out of nowhere a few weeks after your father's passing.
It wasn't just sent to me, but to Victor too.
He'd never heard of it before that day, and neither had I.
I refuse to believe your father wrote it, but Victor wants it to stand.
He won't take my calls. Now all he ever asks me for is your answer. "
"And now I have to give him one?" I sit up, curling my arms across my stomach in a sad self-hug.
"I don't want you to worry about that, Sage," Anton says.
"Be straight with me here, at least. This could be my future we're talking about!"
Anton's eyes shutter but eventually he nods and continues. "War is an unspoken threat, but a likely one. Without Dimitri..."
"We can't take them," I finish.
"None of that matters," Anton says, dropping to kneel in front of me and clasping both my hands in his. "If it's war Victor wants, then he can have one."
"Comforting," I say, rolling my eyes. "This is a lot."
"I'm sorry you had to find out this way."
I give him an annoyed look and pull my hands from his.
"I know. It's just...this... It's a burden. But don't worry, we'll find a way to get out of this with Victor. He isn't having you. That much I can promise."
He stares at me with so much vehemence that I believe him. They would do it. They'd wage war on my behalf so that I didn't have to marry this Victor person.
But to me, it feels like I've only just lost my father. Because of something that I did. I won't stomach being the cause of war. I won't lose anyone else.
"I don't think that's your call to make, uncle." My voice is quiet and small. Foreign to me.
Anton reels back like he's been slapped. "This isn't something to be taken light-"
I stand abruptly, making him stumble to a stand too. "I'm not taking this lightly! I'm clearly taking this more seriously than any of you! You've known about this for months." I pause to shake my head. "This decision is mine. For once, I will be the one deciding what happens next."
The coarseness of betrayal rubs against me like sandpaper to my skin.
It's not news that they hide things from me. Keep secrets. Which may be only forgivable for the fact that what they hide has never been my business.
But this is absolutely my business.
It's got my business stamped all over it. Return-address-labeled, forwarding-mail-type stamped all over it.
I hide in my room for the rest of the day, snuggled up in bed watching old romance movies with my door locked and a grumpy 'fuck off!' for anyone who dares to knock.
It feels like I've had something stolen from me. Definitely freedom and probably my future.
It's after nine-pm when someone finally puts on their big boy pants and ignores my 'fuck off' warning when they knock on the door.
I'm sitting on the end of my bed, hugging a pillow, the TV playing in the background, when I hear the door click. I close my eyes and sigh. Someone's gotten a key.
Nic clears his throat and leans against the frame, arms folded over his chest as he looks at me with a frown. I regard him with barely a glance before turning back to the movie.
"The property is secure," he says, tone going hard. "So don't even think about sneaking off tonight."
My eyes narrow as I fold my gaze towards him with a sneer. "That doesn't sound like much of an apology."
He watches me for a moment, clenching his fists before he breaks our stare. "You're angry," Nic says. "That's expected."
"You were hiding a fucking fiancé from me."
"You'll get over it."
I rear back in disbelief, clutching my pillow as I contemplate chucking it as his head. I'm not sure what burns more; his dismissal, or that he was keeping this from me. And more importantly, why was he keeping this from me?
The full days' worth of emotion, and probably a lifetime more that I've bottled away, comes bubbling to the surface. Tears well in my eyes, but I refuse to blink. My throat becomes tight, strangling me as my lip quivers.
"Shit," Nic says. He drops at the end of the bed, fighting to wrench the pillow from my grip. He wins and throws the pillow back to the head of the bed. With a finger under my chin, he tilts my head upwards. "Talk to me."
I grunt and try my best to fight back the tears, shaking my head at the ceiling as if that will do anything to scare the emotions away. "Why should I?"
I feel the telltale sign of wetness against my cheek when the first tear falls and Nic wipes the errant drops away with his thumbs. "Because I'm here now. And I'm listening."
"Now you wanna know?"
He winces, thoughts running through his head that shine through in his eyes. "Yeah," he sighs. "From you, I want to know everything." He wipes more tears from my eyes and then scoots closer to me on the bed, pulling my fidgeting hand into his and massaging my palm.
"I'm scared," I whisper.
"Of war?" He asks.
I nod.
"Of marrying Victor?"
I nod again. He's close enough that I see the pulse jumping in his neck.
"Victor is pleasant. Kind. Ambitious," Nic says, but the words come out like they burn acid on his tongue. "I can't for the fucking life of me comprehend-" he stops his tirade when he sees its making me frown. "Sorry."
I watch him for a moment, but he continues, softer this time. "I don't understand why Dimitri would've done this. But... I've never doubted his wisdom before."
Nic's face is tense, brow scrunching. More things he's not saying to me.
"You don't think Dad wrote this?"
He whips his gaze to mine. "No. This document showed up out of nowhere. Anton didn't know about it. I didn't know about it. It's too convenient. It's too planned. I don't like it."
"And if it's real?"
"I don't fucking know," Nic says. He drops my hands, agitated and defeated. "Dimitri had lots of possessions and prizes. You were by far his most valued. He didn't want his life for you. Of blood and crime and murder. As the only DeMarco heir, was his only option to promise your hand? Maybe."
I drop my head.