.
I watched my brother slide a stack of chips to the center of the table. He did it slowly, like he was savoring the sound.
Fuck, I hate him.
Normally, I loved to beat him in cards, but I’d always preferred to do it slowly. A grand here, a hundred and fifty there; death by a thousand cuts.
But tonight, it was time for something bigger. He’d upset Valeria and he was going to pay for it. It was time to bleed him dry.
I let him build up his confidence, losing hands on purpose. Setting up his wins. Whether the other bone-headed dumb shits at the table were doing the same, I couldn’t be sure. Probably.
They were his hired thugs after all, his posse of muscle, every one of them dumber than the next. He called them his friends, but it’s a shitty friend that needs a paycheck.
But even stupid animals hate an asshole. And judging by their glances at one another, they had a good idea of what I was up to and they made no moves to stop me.
Petre stacked his chips up in front of him in organized and irritating little towers. As he ran his finger over the ridges on the chips, his pinkie ring glittered in the firelight. Gold with a fat ruby in the center.
I hated that ring.
It had been my grandfather’s, from whom my brother had clearly inherited the asshole gene. My grandfather had gotten his throat cut in a back alley in Bucharest. We never knew who did it because literally everybody hated him enough to kill him.
Just like my goddamned brother.
While he was up, feeling cocky and invincible, I plied him for information about Valeria. I needed to know more; I needed to know everything.
“Where’d she go?”
My brother raised his eyes to me. For one instant, I could tell he was thinking where did who go?
What a dick.
“How the fuck do I know? Back home or back to her prissy little boarding school,” Petre said, adding more chips to the pile. “Saint…Whatever the hell it’s called.”
Saint Theodora’s was its name.
I’d seen it, but only from a distance. My mother had gone there herself, and ironically, had told me stories about the place this evening. I’d gone to dine with her rather than attend the fake-as-shit engagement celebration meal.
Apparently, the school might look pretty damned prim and proper, but they taught their girls to fence, to fight, to be strong. “To prepare its girls for all that life may bring to their doorstep,” said my mother, with a proud smile.
It was named for Saint Theodora, who’d taken on her father’s oath to protect the local village against attackers who’d besieged their homes, despite the near certainty of defeat. Like her knight father before her, she’d given her life in defense of the weak and vulnerable, barricading everyone inside the church and then riding out to meet the oncoming tide. It’s said that she slew so many, they gave up and retreated, and she was canonized first by the villagers and then by the Pope in honor of her sacrifice.
Fitting.
The idea of Valeria—exquisite, goddess-like Valeria—married to my brother pumped my blood full of rage and jealousy. But I suppressed my anger for now.
I kept my cool. And waited.
Intentionally blowing my admittedly decent hand, I made a show of tossing my cards, like I was fed up with all my ‘bad luck’. My brother fucking loved it, and took my pile of chips over to his side of the table.
Time to go in for the kill.
While the dealer shuffled the deck, I finished off my scotch with a hard swallow. Normally, if I chose to drink, I’d chose whiskey, so leave it to my brother to only ever have scotch when he knew I would be around.
Of course, I could have ordered a servant to go fetch whiskey from my father’s cellar if I’d wanted to. Instead, I flicked my chin at the maid to get her attention.
She knew me well enough to know what I wanted, and she turned quickly to make me a coffee at the sideboard. I hated even the barest alcohol buzz when I was at the table; hated the way it blurred my logic, hated the idea of being the least bit sloppy. If ever there was a time to be on my game, this was it.
As the dealer began to deal, I said, “I’m out.”
“Figures,” Petre sneered on a snorting laugh. “Your playing sucks because you’re thinking about pussy. But unfortunately, the virgin pussy you’re thinking about is between my soon-to-be-wife’s legs, and there’s not a goddamned thing you can do about it.” He snickered and tapped the table for another card.
I might just kill this motherfucker right here and now.
I sniffed hard and ran my tongue over my teeth. The maid handed me my coffee and I downed it in a gulp. The cook was Turkish and the coffee was top notch.
“Fine,” I said. “One more hand. Winner takes all.”
Petre shot a glance at me.
“Winner already has all.” He spread his hands over his stack of chips. Like I needed the goddamned demonstration.
“I have no interest in your princess. I can get anything I need from any woman in the kingdom.” I seethed, trying to throw him off the scent of my attraction to Valeria. I raised the stakes to distract him even more. “Winner takes all…in cash,” I said, as the dealer came my way.
That got his attention.
I knew from talking to my father that my brother wasn’t as personally wealthy as he liked everybody to think; he depended on my dad for an allowance, like some fucking eight-year-old kid. I, on the other hand, had plenty of money that I’d earned all on my own.
The money wasn’t what I wanted. I wanted him to feel the sting of loss. The dwindling of his self-inflated power.
“You’re on,” he said and I did my best to hold back my smile.
Chapter 5
Vasile
Petre grinned as he met my eyes. Whatever he had, he was happy that it was enough to beat me. But it wasn’t. I’d known him all my life and I could tell from his whole body that he was underestimating my hand, and overestimating his own.
I was aware that he had pocket queens, and that he had picked up three of a kind when the cards fell just the way he’d hoped, with a couple of throwaway cards sitting alongside his lady.
But unfortunately, that had been exactly what I’d been hoping for as well. His confidence had blinded him to what was on the table. He thought I had nothing, but a low straight beat three of a kind every time. I was about to teach him a lesson yet again.
“Turn them over, brother. Or just fold now.”
I shook my head, frowning. One thing about winning: it’s a lot less fun if your opponent expects it. And I intended to have fun making him regret whatever he’d done to Valeria to make her want to leave so abruptly.
“Perhaps we should just call it quits,” I said, aware that I was giving him an out. I also knew he wouldn’t take it, because Petre never knew when to cut and run.
“Not a fucking chance. You started the game, now finish it. Turn over your cards.”
“It’s a lot of fucking money, Petre.” I ran a hand over the top of my head, giving him an obvious tell that he was too dumb to know wasn’t real.
“He’s right, Petre, maybe it’s time to graciously withdraw—” Our father tried to help him but he was again, too dumb to understand. His ego and pride always overrode his sense of reality.
Petre shot my father a look that had more venom than a scorpion, and my father shrugged in response.
Did he know for sure that I had the upper hand? Perhaps. He loved both his sons, but Petre frustrated him with his bravado and lack of self-control.
Thus, why Petre still did not hold the combination to the safe where his allowance was kept. Father doled it out to him only when he made a request and never in large amounts. He did not have access to the stacks of gold and piles of money that came from the many streams of illegal, and legal, business ventures of the Greengallows.
“Well?” Petre fixed me with a glare, and I drew a sharp breath.
“Fine,” I said, and turned my cards face up on the
table.
Petre’s grin flashed, his brain not quite keeping pace with what was happening.
A second later, his face fell, all color draining away as the truth of the situation sank in.
He hadn’t yet shown his cards, but he’d revealed them to everyone around the table just as well.
Petre cleared his throat.
“Shit,” he said, a forced laugh catching in his throat. “All right, all right, brother, we’ll forget this hand was ever played. I don’t want any hard feel—”
“Apologies, sirs, but once one player’s hand has been revealed…” The dealer trailed off, looking from me to Petre. His eyes settled on mine. “Sir, those are the rules of the game, if we were to change them…” He looked scared for his life.
I shook my head.
“No apologies necessary. You are absolutely correct. Show your cards, Petre. Get this over with. It’s all right, I’ll take my fate.”
Petre hesitated, but the truth was he was trapped. He had to show his cards or beg our father for assistance.
As he would never do the latter, there was only one option open to him. With a scowl, he threw down the cards on the table and folded his arms over his chest. Three ladies, exactly as I’d anticipated. A good hand, to be sure, but I narrowed my eyes in confusion.
“Huh.” I said, pretending to be surprised. “I think my hand wins.”
“Congratulations, sir,” the dealer said, pushing all the chips over to me, repressing a smile as I rocked back in my chair, crossing my arms and watching Petre.
“Good thing you convinced me to play one last hand, right?”
Whatever veneer of polite humanity he had was now officially gone. He leered at me and spun his pinkie ring.
“I don’t know if I have the cash to cover it all,” he said.
I scoffed. Typical.
“It’s fine, I won’t bankrupt the family. I’ll take whatever is yours in the safe, not father’s, though I’d like him there to verify which is which. And I’ll also take that,” I said, eyeing his ring.
“Fuck you.”
I opened my palm. “Fine. So I’ll just go ahead and get the word out there that Petre Greengallow doesn’t pay his debts. Sounds good to me.” I added a click of my teeth and a wink.
Anger flashed on his face, just for a second, and then he crumpled like a piece of dry kindling. It took him some effort to wiggle the ring off of his finger. When he placed it in my palm, it felt unpleasantly hot. I dropped it into my jacket pocket and stood from the table.
“Let’s square this up. Then I can get the fuck out of here.”
“Before you go, I’d like a conversation, son,” my father said, standing from his seat ready to accompany us. My father could be merciless at times, but there was honor within him as well and he deserved my respect.
I sighed, feeling I already knew what was about to happen, but I nodded and answered, “Of course.”
As we walked to the safe, I felt Petre fuming beside me, his limping gait doing little to improve his mood. He was too chickenshit to take a swing at me, which was unfortunate because a left hook to his face may have improved my mood.
It had been years since we’d laid hands on each other, but in our youth we’d broken enough crystal and china that our mother had most of it moved from the main living areas into cupboards and pantries, lest she be replacing it year over year.
I’d been the victor of those fights by and large. It was hard to remember even one-time Petre coming out with the better of me.
Since then, Petre fought with words, not fists. With backroom deals, not showdowns at dawn. When he wanted to hurt someone, he had his band of hired hounds to the messy work. Coward. At the least sign of physical danger, he was nowhere to be found.
But rumor had it that when it came to one thing in particular, he reveled in aggression and violence: women. And when it came to Valeria, there was not a chance in hell I was going to let that happen.
Once our business at the safe was concluded, father retired to his study, requesting my presence once more. I slung the bag of cash and gold coin over my shoulder and took a step into Petre, blocking an easy exit by crowding him up against a bookshelf.
“If you hurt her, you’re going to answer to me.”
“I fucking knew it. Princess pussy got you by the balls?” he said, eyes flashing with greed.
As soon as I saw his expression, I knew I’d let my passion get the better of me. Now he knew I had a weak spot. Her.
It was irrational, it was insane; I’d only just met her. But both my brain and my cock said she was mine to protect. Somehow, some way, I needed to keep her safe.
I flexed my knuckles, raising my eyebrow to warn him. I was tougher, bigger, and stronger and he was aware I could kick his ass.
“Watch your fucking mouth,” I said.
Petre shook his head. “Once I marry her, I’ll do whatever I like to her.” His tone was low, steady. Such a fucking creep. “Every night. Rough and cruel and bloody. She won’t walk or sit the same after I have my way with her. She’s my property, my whore. You have no say.” He pointed at me as he spoke. “And even though you think you’re the hot shit son who came back the all-conquering hero, you’re not. I have men, I have power. And soon, a royal title. I will fuck up the princess however I damned well please.”
His voice had grown thick and dangerous and it made me fucking crazy. The red haze of rage took over and before I knew it, I’d hit him right in the face.
His nose exploded in a spray of blood. And then all hell broke loose.
All at once, Petre’s hired thugs stepped in, restraining me from beating the ever-loving shit out of him.
“Get him out of here!” Petre screamed, clutching his face as blood poured from his nostrils.
I landed one more decent punch, leveling the biggest of his guards. Two others restrained me as I fought their grip. For a second that felt like an eternity, I hovered there, with fury coursing through my veins.
If I wanted to try to kill him, now might be the time.
But it was a gamble that had too great a risk; if I lost, if his men took me down, then there would be nobody between Valeria and my brother. And for the first time in my entire goddamned life, I decided not to take that bet.
So, I shoved the guards off of me and stepped back, seething. I needed to think this through, and I needed to get the fuck away from my brother in order to do it.
“First off, brother, you can throw me out of your own house all you want, if you had one. But this is our father’s house. And second, if you have a problem with me, I’ll fight you anytime you like. Just name the place. You and me, none of this chickenshit letting your hired muscle take care of things.”
I stormed out of his sight and straight to my father’s study.
“Can we make this quick?” I barked, watching him shuffle papers behind a carved walnut desk bigger than a small boat.
My father raised an eyebrow at me, and I felt the heat rise to my face.
“Sorry, father. It’s Petre, he—”
He waved a hand, nodding in understanding.
“I know there’s no love lost between the pair of you, but he has his uses. Particularly, his unfailing willingness to do anything it takes to bring further fortune to this family.”
“I’m loyal to you, father. Make no mistake…”
He gave me a tight smile. “I know. And I appreciate it. Petre has always been different. And, I don’t think he ever forgave you after the accident.” His voice trailed off.
I nodded, a twinge of my own guilt still left over all these years later.
“Not completely an accident.” I added and my father raised a hand to cut me off.
“Boys will be boys. You were the better fighter, but I know you never meant to harm him. Ivan was there, he told the honest story of what happened. You were in your right to do what you did.”
“I’m not sure dislocating your brother’s knee is ever called for.”
�
��That wasn’t your intent. I also don’t believe trying to kick your brother in the back of the head is called for. He didn’t count on you being so fast. If he’d succeeded, his boot connecting with the back of your skull, maybe things would have been worse son. As it stands, you defended yourself, with a bit more gumption than maybe you intended, but nevertheless…”
It was my turn to wave him off and we both ended that trip down memory lane without another word. Petre’s limp was an ever-present reminder to him, making him hate me all the more.
When he started again, there was a familiar twinkle in his eyes. “I also know that in the brains and brawn stakes you take after me.” I rolled my eyes when he turned to look into the fireplace, admiring his complete lack of modesty. “That’s why I asked you here. I want you to reconsider my offer.”
“No,” I said firmly, shaking my head when he turned my way. “No, father, I will not return to the family business. That’s all behind me. I’m legitimate, I’ve made my own way in the world and I no longer have any sleepless nights about the things we’ve done or the things we may be forced to do to hold onto power. You said that you know Petre’s strengths, and that’s one of his. He has no conscience.”
My father laughed.
“He is a cold-hearted bastard, for sure. He can be your right hand, believe me it’s useful to have one. But what he can never be is the boss of an enterprise like this. Particularly with the plans I have.”
I turned away.
“I don’t want to hear anymore. The less I know about the family’s lawless dealings, the better.”
“Not lawless, son. Well, there are levels of lawlessness, this is true. That’s what it takes. But I want to move away from some of our old ways. The direction the laws of this land are heading, the profit is less and less. Our best men get arrested weekly these days, they serve sentences that mean they will never be of any use to us again. It’s getting harder and harder to buy our usual leniency. It’s unsustainable. I want you to help me to change things. It won’t happen overnight, but with you by my side I can—”
Wild Heir (Fated Royals Book 4) Page 3