Chapter 4
Chapter Four
NICHOLAS
The sketch artist delivered the drawing to me five days ago, and since then, I’ve distributed it widely, but no one has reported a single sighting. I’ve got the best people on this, but every single lead is a dud, and it’s driving me insane. Four weeks have passed since Elizabeth died. This case should be sewn up tightly by now, with the perpetrators in the fucking ground. After I’ve tortured them, that is, sending a clear message to anyone who thinks the De Vils are fair game.
I’m loath to bring in The Consortium. It smells too much like failure, and showing any kind of weakness in the circles we move in is a bad idea.
I’m not the most patient of men, but I’m going to have to dredge some up from somewhere. For all I know, it could take another month, six months, a year, or even longer to uncover the truth. I’ll have to find a way to make peace with this painful crawl toward an eventual conclusion. It will come. It has to. I won’t rest until I get answers.
“Nicholas, a word.” My father beckons to me as I’m on my way out the door.
I have a meeting in London, and I’m already running behind. It’s Saturday, but that doesn’t mean a thing to me. When I tell him I’m late, he carries on toward the drawing room, leaving me little choice but to follow. I decline his offer of tea but take the seat he points to. Leaning forward, elbows on my knees, hands dangling between my legs, I wait for him to pour his tea, trying my best not to jiggle my foot in a clear sign of impatience.
“How’s the investigation coming along?”
“Slowly.” A fresh rush of irritation prickles beneath my skin like fire ants on the march. I scratch my forearms, shrugging. “But I’m doing all I can.”
“I know you are.” He leans back in his chair and takes a sip from the cup. “You may never find the truth about what happened to Elizabeth. Has that occurred to you?”
“Every fucking day.” I grimace, scratching myself again and wondering if I’m suddenly allergic to the material, or if the staff member in charge of laundry has switched detergents. Or, more likely, my lack of progress on who planted the bomb is manifesting itself as a physical reaction.
“And if that happens?” He leaves the question hanging in the air.
My father knows my personality all too well. I’m relentless, and I have trouble knowing when to quit. Xan and I are similar in that regard, although we have different motivations. He’s determined to find out what the key Imogen found a few weeks ago in a snow globe that belonged to my mother opens, whereas I don’t care all that much about a dumb key. Elizabeth’s death is my top priority. My only priority.
“I’ll cross that bridge if I get to it.”
Dad adds a spoonful of sugar to the china cup before stirring it thoughtfully. “Brace yourself for the frustration if you never find out what happened.”
“You thinking about Annabel?”
My father’s eyes mist over the way they often do when his mind travels to the past. “No. Unlike your brother, I believe we found out who killed your sister and they were duly punished. I’m referring to your mother and how we’ll never know what she was thinking when she took her own life.”
Mum didn’t leave a suicide note—something that’s haunted Dad for years. As for me, I know exactly why she did it. She loved Annabel the most and couldn’t bear to live the rest of her life without her firstborn daughter. But I don’t share those thoughts with Dad. What’s the point in hurting him more than he already has been? The man’s been to Hell and back, and he’s still standing, as strong as ever. He’s my fucking hero.
“I met with the Montagues a couple of days ago.”
“Oh?” I expected Elizabeth’s passing would have severed Dad’s connection to the Montagues. It’s severed mine. I don’t plan to see Phillip or Laura, and especially Victoria, again. Not voluntarily, anyway. Given her friendship with Imogen, she may stop by on occasion. If that happens, I’ll simply keep out of her way. She said her piece at the funeral, and I said mine.
It’s a fucking relief to know it’s over. I’ve never met a single person who can get on every one of my nerves like Victoria Montague.
Simultaneously.
I may lack patience, but I have control in spades. Although when my temper flares, it burns hot, and with that woman, it’s at risk of going off like an erupting volcano.
“Did I ever tell you why I made the agreement with Phillip for you to marry one of his daughters?”
“I don’t believe you did, no.” And I hadn’t cared enough to ask. Growing up in this family, we’re all aware of what’s expected of us. We marry for convenience, not for love, although occasionally it works out. Like it did for my parents and has for Alexander. But I’d accepted my marriage to Elizabeth wouldn’t be a love match, which was fine by me. I wasn’t looking for love, just a mother for the kids I’m expected to have and a wife who wouldn’t give me a hard time. That’s something I don’t have the patience for.
“Hmm.” He sets down his cup and steeples his fingers beneath his chin. “For quite some time, I’ve been trying to persuade Phillip to sell his company to me, but he’s stubbornly refused.”
I frown. This is news. “Why on earth would you be interested in Phillip’s company?” It’s a decent size, affording him and his family a luxurious life by many standards, but it’s small fry compared to our extensive portfolio.
“I’m not interested in it, per se. I’m interested in a particular piece of IP his research department recently developed. Surveillance software that’s groundbreaking. It’s in the early stages and needs serious investment to advance it further, but it could be a game changer for us, and for The Consortium.”
“You could threaten him.” I grin, only half kidding, but all my father does is shake his head.
“Phillip is a good man, and Laura is a fine woman. I didn’t want this to get ugly, which is why I agreed to a compromise. He’d allow me to buy a controlling share in Montague Tech, and in return he’d remain on as CEO, and you would marry either Victoria or Elizabeth. The benefits for Phillip were that he’d get the capital injection needed to push the research to the next level, and secure a future for one of his daughters, as well as his own. Not to mention as your father-in-law, his position in society would step up a level.”
“And I agreed to marry Elizabeth.”
“Indeed.” His brown eyes land on mine, one brow arching, waiting for me to catch up. A creeping sense of foreboding slithers down my spine, and a raft of goosebumps spring up on the back of my neck.
I narrow my eyes, waiting for my father to continue. When he doesn’t, it forces me to ask the killer question. “And because of what’s happened, he’s reneging on the deal?” I don’t care how good of a man my father thinks Phillip Montague is. I’ll rip him a new arsehole. Dad is more patient in striving for retribution. I’m a shoot between the eyes kind of guy in a cold, calculating, sniper kind of way. Both strategies work, except mine gets faster results.
“Not exactly.” Pensive, he runs a forefinger along his bottom lip, studying me. Studying my reaction. “He’s agreed for the deal to go ahead. The original deal.”
What does he mean, the original deal? That deal died with Elizabeth. I don’t get it. Am I missing something obvious? Frustration claws at me, the muscles in my back tightening.
“Okay, Dad, catch me up. I don’t get how the original deal can go ahead. Elizabeth’s dead.” Stating the obvious is not a tack I usually favor but seemingly necessary on this occasion. My gaze sharpens as I home in on my father’s body language. He seems… anxious. Dad doesn’t do anxious. He’s one of the coolest people I know, chill under even immense pressure.
Before he can speak, I figure it out.
No. Absolutely fucking not. Victoria? The most defiant and annoying human being I’ve ever had the misfortune to know. A week ago, I told her she was the most intractable woman I’d ever met, and I pitied the man she ended up with. Never in my craziest nightmares did I think that I’d be that man.
“You can’t mean Victoria.” Even though I know he does.
Dad nods. “Victoria.”
A laugh bursts out of me, short, sharp, and filled with disbelief. “Dad, you realize she hates me. I can’t stand her, either. I chose Elizabeth for a reason. I wanted a compliant wife, one who won’t make it their life’s work to test my patience every fucking minute of the day.”
“Your brother said something similar about Imogen, and look at the love match they’ve turned into.”
“I’m not Xan, and Victoria isn’t Imogen.”
He falls silent, as do I. Jesus Christ Almighty. This is a joke. I know we’re all bound by duty, but this is beyond the pale. I’ll have to sleep with one eye open. Victoria Montague will stab me as soon as look at me, given half a chance.
Yet I can’t refuse. It simply isn’t done. The price to pay is astronomical. To show such disrespect to a founding member of The Consortium would put my father in an impossible position. He’d have to resign from an organization his ancestors founded, and lose all the power and privilege that it offered.
Put my father through that because I refuse to marry Victoria Montague? Not a chance. I may not relish the idea (understatement of the century), but I’ll do it. I’ll do it for Dad, for this family. Unless…
“What if Christian marries her instead? Or Tobias? You and Phillip still get what you want without tossing me onto the bonfire.”
Dad shakes his head. “You’ve never been one for embellishment, Nicholas. Don’t start now. Besides, Christian and Tobias are younger than you. Don’t you think they deserve a little longer to kick up their heels before committing themselves to one woman?”
I hate it when my father brings logic to the conversation. After Xan, I’m next in line. It makes sense for me to marry before my younger brothers.
One woman. And that woman, for me, will be Victoria Montague. Some higher power is having a gigantic laugh at my expense.
Lord help me.
I snort, because what else can I do? “She’ll murder me the first chance she gets.”
Dad chuckles. “You’ve never been one for dramatics, either. Victoria will be good for you. The more I think about it, the more I believe you chose wrongly the first time around. I’m desperately sad for what happened to Elizabeth, and of course, I’d rather she was still here, but if she were, and you’d married her, I’m not sure it would have worked out.”
“Wouldn’t have mattered either way. De Vils don’t get divorced.”
Dad gives me one of his sympathetic looks. “Nicholas, just because it’s traditional for us to choose arranged marriages over a chance meeting doesn’t mean we can’t be happy. That we can’t find love with the person we marry. I was wrong to allow you to choose a wife. I should have selected Victoria as your bride, and if I had, Elizabeth might still be here. That error in judgement is my fault.”
“Maybe tell Victoria that,” I mutter. “Take the heat off me.”
He leans forward and pats my knee in a fatherly manner I still find as endearing as I did as a child. We may have lost Mum far too young, but we hit the jackpot with my dad. He’s the fucking best, and while we disagree on many things, not one of us would change a single thing about him.
“You realize she’ll refuse, right?”
“Her father will explain it to her. She won’t have a choice.”
I close my eyes and draw in a deep breath. I don’t have a choice, either, and I’m far from thrilled.
Far from thrilled is like calling a hurricane a mild breeze.
Ah, fuck. She’s gonna be a pain in my arse from morning ‘til night. That incessant itch flares up again, and this time when I scratch my arm, I draw blood.
The stray musing I had the night of Elizabeth’s death drifts into my thoughts. I’d been watching Xan and Imogen play chess, and their competitive banter had brought Victoria to my mind, and my reasons for not choosing her as my wife when, as the eldest child, it made the most sense. I’d thought about how I could tame her, but I didn’t want to.
Now I’ll have no choice in the matter. She’ll be a challenge, one I wasn’t previously inclined to undertake, but the more I muse on it, the more the idea of bringing her to heel piques my interest.
To subdue a deer is one thing, but to conquer a lioness is quite another.
You know, I could have a lot of fun with this. I’ll need a strategy. Somehow, I don’t think responding to fire with fire is the right way to go. Providing fuel for her anger is what she wants.
On the other hand, not giving her what she wants will confuse her, knock her off balance, and see me as the eventual victor. If I play my cards right, I could turn the willful Victoria Montague into the compliant wife I always wanted.
A small smile tugs at my lips. “When is Phillip planning to give her the good news?”
“Sometime today. He said he’ll call me when it’s done. Then tomorrow, I want you to go to see her and reassure her she’ll be fine.”
“Ah, so you want me to lie.”
Dad grimaces. “Nicholas. Don’t make this any harder on the girl than it needs to be. She’s lost her only sister. She’s grieving. Have some empathy.”
“I’ll do my best.”
Dad chuckles, shaking his head. “You always were the stubborn one. Well, you and Alexander. It’s a tie for first place.”
I laugh because it’s true, but in fairness, it’s a De Vil trait. My other siblings aren’t far behind in the stubborn stakes.
“At least she’ll have Imogen to bitch and whine to.”
“Nicholas.” Dad’s tone holds a warning that he’s edging toward the end of his patience.
I hold up my hands. “ Fine . Fine. I’ll see what I can do to explain to her this isn’t the life sentence she’ll undoubtedly believe that it is.”
He nods in agreement as if it’s that simple. It doesn’t take a genius to work out that it’ll take a miracle to convince Victoria that marrying me is anything more than her worst fucking nightmare.
Until, that is, I put my plan into action. And the best part? She won’t even see it coming.