Madman’s Method: Madman Duet Book One

by Mason, V. F.

  Everything inside me freezes. My breath sticks in my throat and my eyes widen as heat radiates from him and energy swirls around us like a tornado, engulfing everything in its wake.

  “What?” I pant.

  A sinister smile curves his lips as his fingers smooth a lock of my hair, but I jerk away from him, detesting his touch.

  Or at least that’s what I’m trying to convince my body of.

  “A beautiful woman arrives in town and is already making the men here crazy.” What in the hell? “Even Ralph, the only married one among them, can’t stop looking at you.” There is an odd edge to his tone as if he is barely holding back his fury, but it’s stupid, right?

  I never saw any pictures of him with women, so I have no clue about his relationships or one-night stands, but he doesn’t strike me as a man who is jealous and possessive.

  Yet he reeks of those emotions right in this moment, and a thrill rushes through me before I can stop it, reminding me for a second of the guy he used to be and who took my virginity all those years ago.

  God, is this why it’s hard to resist him?

  The shrink in New York once said that we are sometimes attracted to people who we might not love or like, but who are part of our happy memories.

  And that’s exactly what I have in common with Eudard, because compared to everyone else, he didn’t hurt me.

  Not in a cruel way anyway.

  Raising my chin high, I don’t shy away from his stare and press myself a little closer to him, so he won’t get the idea that I’m afraid of him. “I will do whatever I want.” With that, I wiggle to the side, ready to bolt, but his hand travels to my waist and pulls me right back, accompanied by my loud yelp.

  “No one touches this body, Cassandra,” he says furiously yet coldly, as if the subject merely unsettles him. “I think yesterday we went over the rule of not going against my word.”

  I stick a fake smile on my lips, batting my eyelashes at him. “Oh, we did? As far as I remember, I agreed to nothing. So—” I dig my finger in his chest while his jaw tics. “—I would advise you to stop threatening me or barking orders, because, newsflash, I can do whatever I want. Including getting a restraining order against a mayor.” I wait a beat, expecting him to comment on it, but he stays silent, so I add, “Besides, this is sexual harassment. Want me to go to the press?” That’s the only threat that works with the founding five: social scrutiny and bringing the actual law into this.

  Not one the Brown family can cover up.

  All my speech earns me is a laugh that sends a shiver down my spine, and not the good kind, because the cockiness of it is not lost on me. “Sexual harassment? I’d have to touch you or offer sex for it to be that.” My brows furrow as he plasters his hands on either side of my head. “I don’t need my future sheriff in an infidelity scandal or in competition with his best friend. Or the local artist to be depressed over losing you.” He tsks. “Let’s not forget the scientist who might stop working in the lab. I simply can’t risk the stability of my town for your spoiled desire to seduce men.”

  I watch him in disbelief as he explains it all to me in a calm voice while his eyes remain unreadable yet furious with me, but this time I have no explanation for it.

  Well, besides the fact that he has always been like that with me, aside from our one night together. Does his body have some kind of radar that announces to him I’m in close proximity, even if his subconscious cannot explain it, so he has to act like an asshole toward me?

  But then his words truly register in my brain, and I gasp, disappointment filling my every bone at his implications.

  So this no touching rule has to do with them and the town, not with his desire for me?

  I wrap my hands around my throat while taking a deep breath from this, hoping to wash all those confusing feelings away.

  How idiotic is it anyway? I’m acting like a woman scorned, when this is exactly what I’d expect from Eudard Campbell.

  Their rule in this town is absolute, and they won’t let anyone bring chaos to it.

  Did I really think he was capable of losing his head to a woman so quickly like all those fools in the dining room?

  Seducing him would have been an art form, so it’s good I have no such intentions.

  “I think they are old enough to handle their problems without the mayor looking out for them.” With that, I duck to the side, but he once again presses me back to the wall, his focus on me, green pools scanning me, but I groan inwardly, because it feels like he’s staking a claim on my body, and it makes no sense.

  None of this makes any sense and rather reminds me of a bad dream I need to wake up from.

  This behavior of ours has no logical explanation; we’re like two kids arguing in the playground.

  “Consider it a warning, Cassandra. Don’t dangle this body”—his hand does the up and down motion over my waist—“in front of them, or there will be consequences.” I jerk at the last word, because it’s been used so many times around me that I’ve learned to hate it.

  Consequences.

  I’ve agreed to them all, including burning in hell, before I came to him.

  Too bad for Eudard Campbell though, as I intend to bring so much chaos here he won’t know which fire to extinguish first.

  “Stay out of my life, Mr. Campbell,” I grit through my teeth, and finally he leans back, giving me space to get free. I step a few feet away from him as I grab the wall leading to the dining room. “You are insane,” I say over my shoulder, and hear his laughter reverberating along the walls.

  “No, darling. I’m a madman.”

  I close my eyes, feeling the dominant energy radiating from him reach out for me, but I shake it off, locking the problem with him away.

  Eudard Campbell can’t be my distraction in this, and I can’t examine my emotions, even if I’m curious whether my shrink was right.

  I rush toward Patricia, who still stands by the pictures, but another woman has joined them, one who sways a little with a glass in her hand, and her hair is all over the place. The black dress she is wearing is a bit too short for her, and the closer I get, the more I smell the reeking odor of alcohol on her.

  Oh, the last one has arrived. I wondered where she was during mass. After all, the Mitchells never missed it back in my Arianna days.

  Dorothy Mitchell in the flesh.

  As I looked at them all in a circle, with Eudard probably following me, I study all those who hurt me in the past, as they stand, clueless to the future awaiting them.

  The only person missing is Eachann, but then he rarely leaves the holy gates of his church. Is he afraid his true colors will shine in the world where he doesn’t have protection from above?

  Whenever I’ve imagined this moment through the years, I always thought I’d feel such strong fury and anger I would be shaking with it and barely able to survive the charade.

  However, right now, nothing but calmness surrounds me, while my mind stays completely focused on my goal, and the anger and agony I’ve experienced because of them is buried deep, waiting for the right time to get out.

  Revenge is better served cold, they say.

  I don’t agree with this though, because in my opinion, revenge is better served when the enemy is least expecting it.

  Madman

  Ah, my beautiful phoenix. Her strength and resistance are exactly why she always belonged to me and no one else.

  Including my twin, who despite his obsession with the church and piano has managed to hold her heart through all the years.

  Familiar rage comes back as the possessive beast roars inside my chest, demanding I grab her and drag her to my dungeon so she has no doubt left who she belongs to.

  But I always rein in the desire to do that, because my phoenix is wounded and no aggressive approach besides the one reminding her that I exist will work with her.

  At the thought of all the wounds that people have inflicted on her, coldness sweeps through my system, fueling my blood with a d
ifferent kind of desire that is calculative and cruel.

  Gazing over the top of her head at the group discussing something—although I don’t miss how their mouths twist into a grimace when Dorothy joins them—a smile pulls at my lips, imagining their inevitable agony when I’ll show them no mercy.

  They will scream and beg and plead all while drowning in a pool of their own blood that is drawn by me drop by drop, so they will never forget what they have done.

  My greatest restraint has been not touching any of them during these past ten years and letting them live as if nothing happened. In the case of Ethan, I even had to dig him out of a hole I’d created so he would be waiting here for her.

  I’ve done everything for her, but I’ll be fucking damned if I allow anyone to touch her or think they have the right to touch her.

  She is mine.

  And judging by Ethan’s glance, he wants to disobey the rule I silently placed the minute I went to the bathroom after her.

  But then again, Ethan has always had this tendency to step outside the borders I’ve placed around him when it was concerning my girl.

  This time around though, everything will be different.

  Cassandra has taken too long picking a victim, so I’m going to do it for her.

  Cassandra

  Dorothy throws her brown hair over her shoulder while slurring to Ethan, “You’re here, my love.” She wraps her arms around his neck, hanging off him, but he roughly pushes her away.

  She stumbles a little and catches the wall, breathing heavily. Her mouth wobbles as she whispers, “Ethan.” There is so much pain in her voice I could have felt sorry for her and his treatment, but there are small details preventing me.

  I’m incapable of feeling sympathy toward any of them, because Arson and Lachlan are right.

  Their personal problems don’t interest me; this is ruthless vengeance that has no place for any tender feelings.

  We humans tend to feel pity toward anyone and anything, justifying their bad deeds based on their past or present, claiming sometimes monsters are born out of someone’s indifference.

  But does it change the fact that they hurt people who have families who love them?

  No, it doesn’t.

  All the variables changing through the years don’t impact the outcome of this equation that cost me my identity, life, and loved ones.

  “What are you doing here?” Patricia hisses, placing one of the twins on the floor and motioning for Ralph to do the same. She ushers them in the direction of the terrace where one of the maids is waiting for them, and the minute they are out of earshot, she barks, “You showed up drunk for my Sunday lunch?”

  Dorothy rests her cheek on the wall, while slurring, “I had to come. We never miss it, right, darling?” She addresses Ethan again and musters up a smile, which earns her only a snarl from him.

  “I’m not your darling. We are divorced, Dorothy.” Right, he got rid of her once he paid his debt to Eudard and settled back in this town with Mitchell’s name backing him up. No one much liked the Whites after his father screwed over the factory workers and ran away with their money.

  Sometimes, despite all the sins they’ve committed and his past that involved an abusive father, I think Ethan was the worst of them. He wore a mask of deceit so well you wouldn’t know he was capable of hurting a woman, but by the way Dorothy hunches her shoulders and casts her gaze down to the floor, I know it’s not the case.

  Didn’t she start drinking because of his constant cheating after they got married?

  Rumor was she was a virgin before, and since she never moved away from here, she couldn't find a guy who would tolerate her character despite her family fortune.

  What’s with all these girls staying in this hole and not exploring the world around them anyway?

  “Ethan, maybe you will reconsider.”

  Cole snorts, albeit quietly, into his drink while Patricia continues to berate her for everyone to hear. “I told you to stay home when you’re drunk. You are embarrassing me and my guests.” She points at Ethan. “Take care of this mess.”

  Ethan huffs in annoyance. “She is not my concern anymore. We divorced months ago. You don’t like her here, kick her out, then.” He shrugs, picking up a drink from the passing waiter who throws Dorothy a pitying look.

  Yeah, Ethan is the ex-husband from hell for sure when he isn’t trying to charm me out of my panties. She fumbles with her thumbs, whispering again to him. “Ethan, you promised to rethink it.”

  He sips his drink, rolling his eyes. “I said it’s final. Accept it, and for the love of God stop humiliating yourself with this talk.”

  Ralph steps forward, lifting his elbow to Dorothy, even though Patricia growls under her breath, glancing over her shoulder to check that none of the guests have noticed her so far. “Come on, Dorothy. Let me take you home.”

  “You can’t leave in the middle of lunch!”

  He doesn’t budge under his wife’s shriek though, and my brows rise at that. He is not living under her thumb after all. “She is drunk and needs help. She is our friend. You both are, like it or not.” Then his gaze becomes hostile when he tells Ethan, “We will talk about this later.”

  What a gentleman.

  But the idea is so laughable I cough to cover it up, and finally everyone’s attention snaps to me as Ethan murmurs something under his breath. And then in a flash he is by my side. “I’m sorry you had to see this.” He winces. “My ex-wife—” Said ex-wife interrupts him though, pushing from the wall and swaying over to me, the bright smile on her face only adding to the desperation coming from her in waves. “Isn’t this the newcomer? Ah, you are so pretty.” She hugs me to her chest before anyone can stop her, and her bitter perfume washes over me. I swallow back the acid rising in my throat from this. “And warm.” She sighs and leans back, digging her nails into my shoulders as she scans me. “I see why my husband wants to fuck you.”

  “Oh, God,” Patricia squeals, while Ethan’s eyes widen in shock and Cole just laughs.

  “You bought the Griffin house, right?” she asks but doesn’t wait for a reply. “He used to want to fuck Arianna too.” I still, the air freezing in my lungs while she whispers like she is sharing a secret for me. “She lived in your house before.” A humorless chuckle escapes. “Before we—”

  “Get your hands off her.” She jumps at the harsh yet deep command coming from behind me, and instantly heat surrounds me, allowing me to exhale heavily and slip much-needed air in my lungs. His presence alone wraps me in a cocoon of protectiveness.

  And while on most days I would have hated it, in this moment when I encounter all of them together for the first time, I need him, even if it sounds pathetic.

  He used to want to fuck Arianna too.

  Familiar panic settles into me with the exact same pose in the past overlays the present. All of them surrounding me with nothing but crude words spilling from their mouths. It’s like a kaleidoscope playing in my brain, not allowing me to look away with all of them in such close proximity to me, and I feel like suffocating in this vacuum my mind has created.

  But then I feel a soft touch on my back traveling up and down my spine in soothing motions, and I focus only on this touch that grounds me in the overpowering chaos.

  The only difference is that this time around, he came to the rescue.

  “Eudard,” Dorothy says with surprise in her voice, but quickly steps back when Patricia rushes to the rescue.

  “I apologize for this scene.” I’m not sure who she’s addressing, me or him, but then she musters a smile for me, even though she sends a glare her friend’s way. “She is usually not this crude. They’ve recently divorced and—”

  “She heard enough on her own, Pat. Step away,” Eudard speaks again while I’m still frozen to the spot, hate for them so strong I almost shake with it.

  Even after all these years, remorse and guilt are a foreign concept to them for what they have done to me.

  He used to want
to fuck Arianna too.

  I cover my mouth with my palm, stilling the cry of agony threatening to escape, and do my best to survive the next five minutes it will take for me to get the hell out of here.

  “Next time you invite someone over, make sure they are not insulted in the process.”

  “That’s not fair—”

  I don’t even have time to blink when Eudard pulls at my elbow, dragging me toward the main door. “I’ll take her home. Pray this doesn’t get out to the masses, Patricia.”

  She huffs and hisses to Dorothy, I assume, since I’m being dragged by him. “It’s all your fault.”

  “I brought her here. I can—” Cole jogs next to us, trying to catch up, but stops when Eudard speaks, steel lacing his tone.

  “Stay here and take care of Dorothy. If she starts any more trouble, I will end her. You’ll be left without a sponsor for your useless art.”

  He gasps but flies away to her, and despite my panicked state, I frown.

  Does everyone do whatever he says? It’s like he has complete power over them all. His father might have been a king here, but even he respected the other founding five members.

  Ralph just steps away, once again apologizing. “This shouldn’t have happened.”

  Finally though, we are outside, and when the warm yet fresh breeze hits me in the face, the knot in my chest loosens and my heartbeat evens out.

  Oh, God, how will I survive this if I almost lost it after the first encounter?

  “What’s happening?” James calls after us, hastily descending the stairs alongside us, albeit breathing heavily. “The miss is so pale. Do I need to call someone?”

  “No need, James. She just needs to get out of this hellhole.”

  James snorts and I almost share their smile, while a memory pops in my head.

  “If I find you eating those berries in the garden, I’m gonna scold you Campbell twins.”

  Eachann’s mouth drops open while he presses his finger to his mouth for me to stay quiet, and Eudard snorts, shouting from the bushes to his twin’s exasperated sigh, “But you gotta find us first, right? Is there a time limit on this thing?”