Miles
“You've done what?” My brother spits the words with a heavy emphasis on the WH.
It’s probably not the best time to tell him I think he’d make an excellent headmaster. The haughty, smug prick. To be fair, I also don’t recall a time I’ve seen him so angry, and I’ve made him angry plenty, red vein pulsing and everything.
Now, though, he’s alarmingly calm. White-hot instead of red.
“Lando—”
“No, I want to hear it again. I need to know I’m not going insane.”
“I said, I got married.”
On second thought, Lando’s doing an excellent impression of a goldfish right now. Mouth opening and closing. Big eyes staring. And then he turns on Alex with a snarl, and I decide he’s actually not a very good goldfish.
“Did you know about this?”
“Of course I fucking didn’t,” Alex yells. “How am I supposed to have known about it? He got back yesterday.”
Lando’s fists ball in place on his desk, and he stares at me.
Even though I called this family meeting, it’s oddly reminiscent of the times I used to get hauled into the headmaster’s study at school for whatever transgression I’d committed that week.
It got to the point where his secretary would share her Werther’s Originals with me.
And I know for a fact she didn’t hand them out to just anyone.
No, Margaret Grantham and I had a special connection.
Lando’s study never used to have an ominous feel about it.
When it belonged to my father, I’d love to come and sit while he worked.
I’d have some coloring to do, or I’d be flicking through the pages of his polo magazines.
But it’s belonged to Lando for longer than I have memories of it being my father’s.
And my father definitely never looked at me the way Lando’s looking at me right now—like he’d happily murder me.
What’s more, even my mother, perched on the edge, has virtually the same expression.
Alex is in the chair my father always said was his favorite. Clementine’s on the sofa near the fireplace, with Hamish and Dolly fighting over who can get strokes in first, and Hendricks stands by the window.
I wish I had the hindsight that perhaps this marriage wasn’t such a good idea, but I don’t.
I also bottled telling them that it was for real, because after Hendricks pointed out that my mother would be more hurt than angry, I couldn’t face the guilt. At least this way, I can legitimately save a little face.
I’m tempted to interrupt Lando’s scowling and ask if I’m dismissed when he turns on Hendricks. “No points for guessing you knew all about this.”
“He was my best man—”
“Course he fucking was. Didn’t think to give anyone a heads-up? Didn't think to try to talk him out of something so asinine?”
“As I said to Arthur . . .” he begins, but Lando silences him with a finger in the air.
Such a dick move.
Without letting anyone speak, he hits speed dial on his desk phone, and the next voice I hear makes my balls shrivel up into my spine.
What a sniveling prick.
“Lando, how are you? I was—”
“I’m with Miles.”
There’s an audible groan, and I hold in the smile. At least we’re not the only ones he cuts off mid-sentence.
“I did my best to talk him out of it.”
“It was your idea, Arthur,” I shoot out. If I’m going down, then this crusty excuse for a human is coming with me.
Arthur’s spluttering is the highlight of this conversation for me, seconded by the shock on Lando’s face—which I didn’t think could get any more pronounced—but does, in fact, become noticeably more shocked.
“Miles, you know it was a joke.”
“I didn’t realize you made jokes, Arthur.”
“Miles, shut up,” Lando snaps. “Arthur, what can you tell us about the prenup that's been signed?”
There’s a pause, and I know why. I also do feel very slightly guilty about it.
“Given the limited time I had, the prenup is very similar to the one that we had Caroline sign. Remuneration for each year of the marriage period. Nothing for infidelity on her part, same sums if Miles is unfaithful.”
The look Lando gives me, along with the caustic laugh from Alex, makes me want to flip them both off and inform them I already had every intention to keep my dick in my pants without the need of a legal document.
After what Lando went through, he should know that fidelity is important to me.
“And the NDA?”
“It’s airtight.”
“All bases are covered?”
“They are.”
“Thanks, Arthur. I’ll call you back later.”
He hangs up before Arthur can say any more. Lando’s chair groans as he leans back. I almost hold my breath as he regards me, but I know better than to back down. I also know Lando’s not done, and I’m proved right when he suddenly springs forward, his palms banging down on his desk.
“Miles, what the fuck? Of all the stupid things you do, this has to be by far the stupidest. Do you have any idea how illegal this is?”
“It's only illegal if someone finds out.”
“No, it's fucking illegal regardless,” Lando fumes. “The scrutiny that you put our family under . . . it’s so fucking typical of you. So fucking selfish—”
“Oh fuck off, Lando. Get down off your high, mighty perch before your nose bleeds. You don’t fucking get it, do you?”
“No, I fucking don’t.”
All the while we’re arguing, our siblings are watching as intently as they would the finals at Wimbledon, though they wisely stay silent.
“Yeah, and you don’t understand what it's like to have to rebuild your life after someone nearly kills you. Do you?” He glares at me, wordlessly, because no, he fucking doesn’t. “Are you even going to bother to ask why I’ve done this?”
His mouth opens, his retort sitting on the tip of his tongue.
He blinks, his brows shoot up, and he realizes I’m right.
At no point has he asked me why I’ve married a stranger.
And that really pisses me off, because I always have a really good reason for anything I do, which he should know better than anybody.
As much as I might appear to be on occasion, I’m not, nor have I ever been, reckless.
“Okay,” he drawls, eventually, “please enlighten us.”
“It’s the England’s Cup this year—”
“And?”
“I want to win,” I reply, though it should be obvious.
“Are you kidding? You’ve done this to win a polo match?”
My eyes close, and I take a deep breath. Lando has the explosive temper. I’ve always had a much more laissez-faire temperament. But right now, I’m closer to channeling him than any of our other siblings.
“Do you remember what happened at the last England’s Cup?”
His brow drops. “I can’t possibly remember . . .” He stops talking, and I know he knows what I’m talking about. That my reference to being killed wasn’t just a throwaway quip.
“I want to win, that’s why I’ve done it.
I've got a summer to pull together the best team possible because something you're probably also not aware of is that Santiago Torres’s ban has been lifted.” I stop for a dramatic pause to give Lando time to grasp what an enormous dickhead he is.
“He’ll spend the entire summer playing in England as number four on Los Tigres Luchadores.
And I intend to beat him, every way possible. ”
Behind me, Clementine gasps, and I turn. “What?”
“What?”
“Are you okay?” I ask, sounding facetious, but she does look a little pale.
“I’m fine,” she snaps, hard enough that Alex’s brows rise.
“Are you sure about Torres?” he asks.
“Yes. I just found out. His name is all over the team sheets. And I intend to beat the shit out of him the first chance I get.”
Again, there’s an audible reaction from Clementine, and I spin around. “Clem, what’s the matter?”
“Nothing.”
I roll my eyes. I’ve got enough on my plate without having to deal with whatever shit Clementine has going on today—lumpy pool lounger, misplaced yoga mat, too much pulp in her fucking orange juice.
“Look, Milo,” Lando says before Clementine and I begin arguing, “I get it. I do. I totally understand the need for revenge. I was hell-bent on finding it myself. But this is fucking insane. This is fraud, and if you get caught, you could be looking at prison time.”
My head drops back, because frankly . . . “Don't be so melodramatic.”
“I’m not being fucking melodramatic,” Lando growls, banging his hands on the desk hard enough that the coffee in his mug nearly sloshes over the side. “This is illegal. What part of that do you not understand?”
I fume in silence, except for my teeth grinding together. Turning to my mother, who’s yet to weigh in, I stare at her until she says something. She usually takes my side, no matter what, but I have the feeling that might not be the case today.
After all, my brother is the duke.
He’s in charge of our family trust. It’s upon his shoulders that all the shit falls. And while I do try to pay heed to that most of the time, this is one area that I need to take matters into my own hands. And, as usual, not one of them understands.
“Miles, does this girl know why you brought her over?” she asks eventually.
“She knows that I want her to play for my team, and I do. I’m lucky she’s available because she’s exceptionally talented. But no, I haven't mentioned why.”
Lando sighs heavily, like I’ve just confirmed all his fears. “Then what’s she getting out of it?”
“She’s getting to play for an international high-goal team, when she's never even had a lesson before—”
“What?”
“Lando, be quiet and let me speak. She's an incredible horsewoman, but she’s been overlooked, working as a groom.” I don’t add that I’ve had the distinct impression Ruby wants to get out of her life in Colorado.
Resentment bubbles so near the surface that it’s hard to believe she’s lasted as a groom as long as she has. I understand why the patrons I spoke to called her short-tempered. I’d be the same if I’d been overlooked as she has.
Instead of replying to me, Lando turns to Hendricks. “What do you think?”
“She's a nice girl—”
“You’ll like her once you get to know her.”
“Do you even know her, Milo?” Lando says.
“She knows exactly what she's doing, if that’s what you’re worried about,” says Hendricks again. “And she already has Miles buttoned up. She’s not one of his usual groupies—”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Everyone knows what that means, Milo,” Alex mutters, though it’s loud enough for us all to hear.
And I do know what he means. He’s also correct. The women who come into my life are only too happy to do anything it takes to please me, whether I ask them or not. Whereas Ruby looks at me like she’s practicing her skills at eliminating people with a single stare.
“If it makes you feel any better, I'm not entirely sure she even likes me. But I don't think she hates me quite as much as she did when she soaked me at New Year’s—”
“The girl at New Year’s?”
“Yes.”
Lando’s brow furrows, though he’s not as confused as my mother.
“What girl from New Year’s?” she asks.
Before I can answer, Alex barks out a laugh. “Oh Milo, fucking hell. Her? Her? Are you serious?”
I shrug. I don’t see what the big deal is. And, looking at the clock, I need to hurry this meeting along, or I’m going to be late to the stables.
However, it’s not a satisfactory answer for our mother, who has clearly had enough.
“Will someone please explain to me what is going on? I want to know who this girl is, what New Year’s has to do with it, and finally, regardless of her equestrian skills, why on earth you’ve married someone who hates you?”
“Jesus. Are you already fu—sleeping together?” blurts Lando, correcting himself after a glance at our mother.
I train my glare on him. “Not that it’s any of your fucking business, but no, I am not.
It’s not like that, I told you already. She’s an excellent horsewoman, and I’m lucky she’s available.
” I face my mum, deciding she’s the only one in this room I want to address.
“Ruby doesn’t hate me. Admittedly, when we first met at New Year’s, the tension was a little frosty—”
“She tried to run him over with her horse—”
“What?” She interrupts Alex, her eyes wide like only a mother’s could be when they hear one of their children was in imminent danger.
“Al, shut up,” I snarl. “It was an accident, Mum. We crossed paths without seeing each other.” I glower at all my other siblings, daring them to correct me, and continue when they don’t.
“But since then, we’ve come to a mutual understanding.
I found her just after she got screwed over by a former boss, and she'll really be beneficial to the team once I’ve trained her.
Marrying her seemed like the only option we had for her to play. ”
“Not an option, Milo,” Lando retorts.
Ignoring him, I wait for my mum to speak, because she’s being uncharacteristically tight-lipped.
“Mum, any questions? Anything to add?”
“No.”
Alex scoffs quietly. I look at Hendricks, who turns to the window, brow raised and biting down a smile. They’re all thinking what I’m thinking.
“No?”
“No,” she repeats, resolute and firm. “I interfered with Lando, and look what happened there. Alex had a baby we didn’t know about until she arrived in the village, then Hendricks .
. .” She tuts, loudly. “Anything I have to say clearly isn’t working.
If you want to marry someone who hates you, then I’m not standing in the way. ”
Hendricks is now wearing a full-blown smile. For someone who didn’t have anything to say, she sure was loud. None of us is particularly adept at relationships, the first time around anyway, and she will prove me right at some point in the near future.
“Okay . . . well, good. Because you’re all wrong. Ruby doesn’t hate me.”
I return to the place I’ve been spending most of my time for the past twenty-four hours—the kiss. The feel of Ruby’s body pressed against mine, the sound of her insistent moans as I swallowed them down, her taste . . . I’m getting hard just thinking about it.
So, no, I’d bet a lot of money on her not hating me at all.
Not even a little bit.