Chapter 2
THEO
“WOULD YOU PLEASE put that out and fix your tie? Or are you trying to make me late for my own wedding?”
I took a deep drag of my kretek and held it in, in an effort not to say something I’d regret.
But where was the fun in that?
I stalked toward where my brother stood in front of a full-length mirror admiring the fit of his military uniform and blew the smoke in his direction. “What are you so worried about? It’s not like they can start without you.”
His eyes met mine in the mirror, and his scowl was just the reaction I’d been trying to provoke. “For fuck’s sake, Theo, this has all been planned down to the minute, you know that.”
“You’re the boss. You can be fashionably late.”
“I don’t want to be late,” he said, whirling around to face me. “I want to get this day started so I can relax on a yacht in the Seychelles for a few weeks. Maybe you don’t get that, since you can party it up any day of the week, but some of us have responsibilities.”
“Ah, yes, because apparently I have none of those. Dick.” Taking another drag of my clove cigarette, I moved in front of the mirror and inspected the navy suit I’d been instructed to wear. “What’s wrong with my tie?”
“It’s not choking you, for one,” Jean grumbled before looking at the clock and sighing.
He turned me to face him and unknotted the tie—which, for the record, looked perfectly fine.
As he began to retie it to his ridiculous liking, I couldn’t help but feel the minuscule five-year age difference between us like a gulf.
Hell, I was thirty-seven now, not some kid who needed his big brother to help him get ready for a royal event.
But Jean had always been the one prepping for his role as the future head of Monaco once our father stepped down, and I was merely the backup.
“I can fucking do it,” I said, shoving him away and lifting the kretek to rest between my lips so I could use both hands to fix the mess he’d made. Being the spare, I didn’t have to be so goddamn perfect, and I didn’t need this tie strangling me for the next twelve hours.
“That’s not tight enough—”
“Take it or leave it, Jean.”
His jaw tensed and he closed his eyes like he was struggling not to fight back, but that was what we did best, right? So it wasn’t a surprise when he couldn’t resist saying, “You’re such an asshole, you know that?”
I smirked at myself in the mirror and tugged the sleeves of my jacket down. “Sure do.”
“Do you think you can manage reining that in for a few hours? For Katerina’s sake, not mine. God knows I wouldn’t want you to behave on my account.”
Behave? Like I was some out-of-control delinquent hellbent on making his wedding day a disaster?
My blood practically boiled under the surface.
He was lucky I was here. It wasn’t a secret to anyone that we didn’t get along, hadn’t for years, but I was doing my part and being a good royal.
I was here. Asking for any more than that was bullshit.
“Hello? Did you hear me?” Jean began to pace the room, and seeing him riled up brought a tiny bit of satisfaction to the shit morning so far.
“Yes, instead of being an asshole,” I said, tapping the kretek’s ashes into the remains of his champagne glass on the table. “You want me to take a pole and shove it up my asshole.”
Jean was across the room before I could blink, reaching for the lapels of my jacket, paying no mind to his speech on looking royally perfect for his wedding.
Seemed I’d really pissed him off.
Good.
A rapid knock on the door had us glancing in that direction, and before Jean could loosen his grip, it swung open to reveal the other reason for my stellar mood today—Shepard fucking Winchester the third.
I wasn’t stupid. I’d known his family would be invited—of course they would be. They were American royalty, after all, so Shep was always going to be on the list. But that wasn’t the only reason he was here, and that was what chafed.
He’d been sent by King.
Even if I hadn’t heard the words myself, the calculating way Shep’s eyes shifted between me and my brother and the way his lips twisted into a disappointed scowl told me everything I needed to know.
Bossman had sent his little lapdog to keep an eye on me, and fuck if that didn’t grate on my last nerve.
“You need something?” I said like my brother wasn’t about to decorate my face with his fist. “If not, we’re in the middle of some royal business. Casse-toi.”
Shep’s eyes narrowed a fraction as Jean cursed and shoved me away.
“I came to check up on you,” Shep said all matter-of-fact. And if I didn’t know better, I’d think that pole Jean was so intent on using on me was shoved right up his ass.
“Well,” I said, holding my arms out to the side, “here I am.”
“Jesus,” Jean muttered, and then added, “Putain mais tu la fermes jamais?”
“Hmm, not sure you want the answer to that right now. It might offend your sensibilities.” I reached for my kretek. “Or make you jealous as you’re about to go on your honeymoon.”
“Theo,” Shep said in a warning tone as Jean shook his head and marched toward the door.
“Can you deal with him?” he said to Shep as though I was a problem he was over.
Shep’s eyes cut back to mine, and he gave a curt nod. Jean brushed by him, slamming the door in his wake, and as the echo of it thundered off the wall, I grimaced.
“I’m not sure, but I think I pissed him off.”
“Seems to be a habit of yours.” Shep slipped his hands into the pockets of his tailored pants, and my eyes shifted to the perfect fit of them across his trim hips.
I took a drag of the cigarette, and the crackle of it popped in the room. “And what would you know about my habits?”
“That you have too many bad ones,” he said as he walked into the small room. “This included.” Shep reached for the cigarette and stubbed it out in the glass before arching his brow. “Want to tell me what that was about?”
Shep was, in a way, second-in-command of the Libertines—my boss, you could say.
Not that the seven of us played by many rules, but someone had to keep our group of billionaire visionaries in line.
After all, using our deep global connections to wield our influence and power wasn’t an easy, or safe, task.
Probably why I had been drawn to King’s proposal to join him in the first place all those years ago.
Royal duties were one thing—an incredibly boring, but well-connected thing—but playing masked vigilante in the shadows was far more entertaining.
Even if it was with Shep, who was wound tighter than a drum with that steely exterior that made me want to poke at him.
“I didn’t sleep with the bride, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“Would you be fucking serious for once in your life?”
“Why? You’re busy being serious enough for the both of us. Lighten up,” I said with false joviality. “We’re at a wedding. This is meant to be a joyous occasion.”
“One that’s going to be broadcast globally. You need to pull yourself together.”
I gritted my teeth and turned toward the window in an effort to curb my tongue, but why should I? Everyone seemed to think it was okay to tell me what to wear, how to act, and what to feel today. “Is that an order from you or the illustrious King?”
“I didn’t think you had a king in Monaco.”
I glanced over my shoulder at the all-too-serious expression on Shep’s handsome face. No wonder everyone wanted a fucking photo of it. Even scowling he looked like a model with that sculpted jaw and full lips.
“Not the king I was referring to.” Shep’s shoulders stiffened slightly, and I scoffed, “Ah, I see. This is about your King.”
Irritation rolled off Shep as he angled his chin up an inch, then did his best to look down his perfect nose at me. “I don’t have a king either.”
“Uh huh.” I chuckled. Seemed I was two for two in pissing people off today. “You keep telling yourself that. Maybe one day you’ll believe it.”
I went to turn back to the window, but Shep grabbed hold of my arm and spun me back to face him.
“Listen, I don’t know what is going on with you right now, but you need to get your head in the game. Your brother is about to get married. That might not mean a lot to you, but it sure as shit means a lot to the rest of the world.”
“And King,” I added, just to get under his skin.
“What?”
“It also means a lot to King. Not the marriage part, but the part where I behave myself. That’s why he sent you, right?”
“I was invited.”
“An invitation you would’ve declined if King hadn’t asked you to come and watch me.”
I was right, and we both knew it. This wedding was a world-class affair. There were heads of state, prime ministers, presidents, and other royals, and King would expect me to put my best foot forward and mingle with the higher-ups. So would my parents, but they were used to my disappointing them.
King, on the other hand, was used to my reluctant obedience.
Shep’s jaw began to twitch as he glared down at me, the fingers on my arm tightening as he yanked me in a little closer.
“He didn’t ask me to watch you.”
I knew I should shut my mouth, hold back the caustic remarks I wanted to spit out. But my rage and frustration had been building all week, and this was just the icing on the damn cake.
“Oh, okay, so he ordered you to. Got it,” I said, then shook my head. “You know, I’ve always been curious about how that works now that you two are…well, not fucking anymore.”
Those fingers on my arm dug in so hard that I knew they’d leave a bruise. But I was in it now, my mouth writing checks I knew I couldn’t cash, and since my brother wasn’t here for me to lash out at, Shep would have to do.
“He tossed you aside, hooked up with two younger guys, and yet here you are still doing his bidding. How’s that feel?”
Shep yanked me in so hard and fast that I had to put a hand up not to stumble, and when it landed on his hard chest, I could feel the rapid beat of his heart.
“Say that again,” he dared me in a voice so fucking cold it sent a shiver up my spine.
But if he thought that was going to stop me, he was dead wrong.