Chapter 9
Nine
Brooks
“Why the hell are you in Calira?” my father sneered over the phone.
I smirked at the irritation in his voice. “Mini vacation.”
“Mini vacation, my ass. Don’t think I forgot that’s Daphne’s country.”
“Who says she’s here?” I traced the edge of one stone on Daphne’s tiara. “Besides, weren’t you the one who told me to make her life a living hell? I’m only following your instructions.”
“Then you’d better stick to the fucking plan. And don’t you dare start caring about that fucking cunt. You hear me?”
I made a yapping-dog motion with my free hand.
“I want her to suffer. And don’t you dare let your mother know I said that.”
“I won’t,” I replied.
Not because I cared about my mother being mad at him.
I just didn’t want to listen to the shitstorm when she found out.
My father had promised my mother that Marjorie and Daphne were off-limits. Mom and Marjorie weren’t as close anymore, but she still cared about her.
So, Dad kept his Daphne-hating ranting behind closed doors.
It was laughable that was what he was scared about Mom finding out.
Not the affairs.
Not the mistresses he’d paid off.
Not the corruption that would destroy our family if it ever became public.
Nope. Talking shit about Daphne and Marjorie was where the man drew the line.
Which was why I also needed to make sure Mom and Adelina couldn’t find out Daphne was my Fawn.
My biggest problem was that Daphne had a big mouth. One that seemed incapable of ever shutting.
The conversation turned to him bitching about poll numbers. I put the call on speaker and tossed my phone onto the bed, keeping Daphne’s tiara in my hand.
Opening the nightstand drawer, I pulled out the carved cigar box that’d once belonged to my grandfather. I’d inherited it after his mistress shot him with his own hunting rifle. My father told the public he’d suffered a heart attack.
My father hadn’t exactly lied.
A heart problem did kill him.
A bullet had just done the attacking.
I grabbed my phone off the bed and carried Daphne’s tiara with me to the table in the corner. I dug the weed and rolling papers out of the cigar box and started rolling a blunt.
Once it was ready, I took a slow drag.
The first hit took the edge off almost instantly.
A few more and listening to my father became slightly more tolerable.
“Now, make your trip short,” he told me.
I exhaled a cloud of smoke. “Got it.”
“While you’re there, talk to King Vermont. See if we can make any deals. I’ll arrange a meeting.”
“Aye aye.”
We ended the call. I finished my blunt and dragged my laptop across the table.
I cracked my neck and pulled up Daphne’s feed. I’d paid a castle guard to plant cameras in her room.
The second she filled the screen, I dragged my chair closer.
She was stretched across the bed on her stomach, kicking her feet in the air like she didn’t have a care in the world.
Her hair was a messy disaster around her shoulders, nothing like the perfectly put-together princess from last night.
Well, put together until I hung her off the cliff.
I liked her better like this.
Messy. Comfortable.
“Swear to God, I hate that stupid motherfucker,” Daphne said into her phone.
My cock twitched, and I was certain she was talking about me.
She nodded a few times to whatever the person on the other line was saying.
I hated how much I enjoyed watching her.
Since the day she’d arrived at Saint Vale, her annoying ass had taken up permanent residence in my head.
I’d tried evicting her a thousand times, but she refused to leave.
Sophomore year was the first year she was eligible to become a Fawn. I’d debated choosing her ever since.
“Yes, a fucking cliff!” Daphne said. “I seriously thought I was going to die, Blair.”
I scratched my cheek, replaying last night in my head.
I hadn’t planned to hang her over the edge.
But hey, shit happens.
She’d pissed me off. I’d gotten my point across. No harm done.
Becoming a Son had changed me. Before my Initiation, I’d never killed anyone.
Now I was up to three. That little fact should’ve bothered me more than it did.
“If he’d actually dropped me, I’d have figured out a way to take him with me,” Daphne rambled into the phone.
I laughed.
Sure you would’ve, princess.
Leaning back, I made myself comfortable and listened to her bitch about me, turning her tiara between my hands. She spent another ten minutes doing it. I enjoyed every single one.
“All right, I’ll talk to you later,” she finally told Blair before hanging up.
She grabbed her laptop from her bag and returned to her stomach, feet kicking behind her again.
I answered a few texts, occasionally glancing over to make sure she hadn’t done anything interesting.
A faint moan came through my speakers, and my attention snapped toward the screen.
Porn moans. Not Daphne moans.
I knew the difference.
Daphne rolled onto her back and lifted her nightie, revealing pink panties in the camera’s direction.
Dirty talk sputtered through my speakers so low that I couldn’t make out the words.
My mouth went dry when Daphne slipped her hand under her panties. I zoomed in without an ounce of shame just as she ground her pussy against the bed.
I always liked to believe I was the only man she’d ever been with. When I went to throw the condom away after our Oval Office fuck, there was blood. I’d stared at the damn thing for an hour that night.
Then, for reasons I still refused to examine, I hadn’t thrown it away for two fucking days.
Another moan drifted through my speakers.
She had no idea I was watching.
I stroked myself through my pants, squeezing my cock once as a low grunt left me.
I dragged the laptop closer as she pushed two fingers inside herself.
“Yes, baby,” I groaned. “Just like that.”
It was easy to imagine my hand replacing hers. I almost closed my eyes to picture it better.
But fuck that.
I wasn’t missing a second of this.
She pushed her nightie up higher, exposing the soft curve of her breasts.
I leaned forward so fast I nearly snapped my fucking neck.
Higher, Princess.
Just a little fucking higher for me.
I wanted to see her nipples so I could imagine sucking on them.
When I couldn’t take it anymore, I unzipped my pants and freed my cock.
I wrapped my hand around myself. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been this desperate to come.
She stopped.
“No.” The strangled word left me before I could stop it.
Then she shoved a pile of blankets under her.
There we fucking go.
She shifted once. Twice. Trying to find the right spot.
The second she did, her hips started moving. I rocked mine forward with her.
I stood, shoved my pants lower, and jerked myself faster, biting my lip until I tasted blood.
I couldn’t look away from the way she moved against the bed.
“Keep doing that, baby,” I said to the screen. “Imagine that’s me.”
My fist matched the rhythm of her hips.
Her movements grew frantic.
Her breathing turned ragged.
Through the speakers I heard one word as she came.
My fucking name.
“Brooks.”
There it fucking was.
I was still riding the high of hearing Daphne moan my name when my phone vibrated.
Enzo: Cory put in a request, asking about his Fawn application for Daphne. Put yours in NOW.
That fucking asshole.
He agreed to drop his Selection, and now he was pulling this bullshit?
Me: Aren’t you supposed to be on vacation with YOUR Fawn?
My phone immediately rang. I closed out of Daphne’s feed before answering.
“First off, she’s not just my fucking Fawn,” Enzo snapped on the other line.
I tucked my phone between my shoulder and ear and lit another blunt.
“Where are you?”
“Calira.”
“Goddamn it, Brooks.”
“Sent here by the president,” I lied. “And relax. I’m not going to do anything stupid.”
He snorted. “I don’t believe you.”
Smart man.
“Why aren’t you enjoying your trip with your Fawn?”
Enzo had told Blair they were spending the break at the Marchetti mansion before surprising her with Italy.
“You refer to her as just a Fawn again, and I’ll cross the fucking Mediterranean to rip your throat out. She’s about to become my wife. I’m proposing to her.”
I nearly choked on my hit. “I love you, man, but you haven’t even graduated from college yet. Marriage? Not smart.”
“It is fucking smart when I know this is what I want for the rest of my life.”
“Does your father know?” I asked.
“He’s not happy, but Mom is. And you know how she wins with him sometimes.”
Cristian Marchetti never agreed to shit unless there was something in it for him.
Marriage included.
“I’d hate to be in the room with him right now,” I commented.
“I’m sure he’ll find someone to take that anger out on.”
I already felt bad for whoever that poor bastard was.
“I want you to be a groomsman, of course.”
My first thought was Daphne, not where I’d stand in line with him at the altar.
Daphne would obviously be a bridesmaid. Probably Blair’s maid of honor. Which meant some asshole would get to walk her down the aisle.
I crushed the end of my blunt against the ashtray harder than necessary.
Absolutely fucking not.
“If Daphne’s there, I’m the one walking down the fucking aisle with her.”
“Dude, let us get engaged first before you start barking out demands like some rabid dog guarding his favorite toy.”
“Just protecting my soon-to-be Fawn.”
He grunted. “Now, back to Cory.”
“Fuck Cory. I’m ready to kill that bastard.”
“He still wants Daphne. Submit your claim. He’s baiting you now.” Enzo sighed. “Hell if I know why. I don’t understand the appeal of the mouthy brat, but you idiots seem obsessed with her.”
Daphne moaning my name played through my head again.
She’d been thinking about me.
Not Cory. Me.
No other man would ever see her like that.
I wished the guy who’d planted the cameras in her room had angled one closer to the bed, so I could’ve seen more.
“You have an hour to put the submission in.” Enzo’s voice cut through my Daphne thoughts. “I can only cover for you for so long before everyone realizes you weren’t the first to choose her.”
“Cory is a fucking Prospect. No one gives a fuck about him.”
“He might only be a Prospect, but his father is a prime minister.”
“Can’t I just kill him?” I asked with a groan.
“Absolutely not. And you need to start tolerating him because he’s about to become a Son. His Initiation is next week.”
“Can I be in the ring during his Initiation?”
“Fine by me.”
“Perfect.”
The call ended, and I pulled Daphne’s feed back up. Cory was standing in her fucking room. I cranked up the volume to hear him inviting her to some yacht party.
She fucking accepted.
I’d deal with Cory later.
First, I needed the details on that yacht party.
Four hours later, I met with King Vermont. By the end of our meeting, I’d scored an invitation to dinner and the seat beside Daphne.
The prime minister grimaced. He’d been wearing that same constipated ass look since I arrived.
Fuck him.
And his son.
Whatever political bullshit my father wanted me to accomplish could wait.
I had the seat beside Daphne.
Mission fucking accomplished.