Megara clamped her jaw. Telling him off wouldn’t make him change his mind. He answered to a stronger power than herself.
“Fine. But I want to talk with them privately. You can sit in the front hall to be sure I don’t hide from you.” She turned sharply on her heel and marched up to the front door that swung open as soon as her foot touched the stoop.
“Megara.” Tristan’s gaze moved to Oliver. “You don’t need to come inside.”
Megara put up her hand. “Don’t bother. He’s coming in, but he’ll stay right by the front door.” She slid past Tristan into the house and went straight for the living room. Sliding doors closed off the room from the entranceway, giving a sense of privacy.
“Megara.” Marco entered the room from the second entrance. “Are you all right?” he asked, shutting the door.
Tristan closed the main doors and joined her. “Has he hurt you?”
“Such a situation I’m in.” She laughed. “Every time I see someone, is that going to be my greeting? Hi, Megara, has your husband hurt you today?”
“I’m sorry,” Marco grimaced. “It’s just…seeing you at that altar yesterday…it was like I was being gutted.”
“Ah, so that’s why you stepped in to stop it?” she teased. “No, don’t get upset. I know you couldn’t do anything about it. No more than I could.”
“I’m surprised he allowed you to come here,” Tristan said.
“He hurried me out of the house this afternoon, so I doubt he cares where I am, so long as I’m not in his house.” She plunked herself down in an armchair and leaned her head back. “How fast everything changes.”
“He rushed you out?” Marco asked.
“Yes. He came back from...I don’t know where…gave my phone back and told me Oliver would escort me wherever I wanted to go.” She glanced at the clock hanging over the piano. “I only have a little time before I have to return, though.”
“Probably has his whore over.” Venom spewed with Tristan’s words. Megara’s back stiffened. His whore? Would he have a mistress? Of course he would. Why would she think differently? His father had plenty of mistresses, why would Henrik be any different? The man had no morals. No honor.
“Well, if that’s true, at least he allowed me not to witness it,” Megara said, but the carefree tone she intended failed. She shouldn’t care. She didn’t care. Except, when she pictured his lips pressed against someone else, a wave of sickness washed over her.
“Are Jackson and Hera still at the estate?” Marco asked.
“No. They left to go home. But they’ll be back for the wedding celebration,” she explained.
“When is that?” Tristan asked. He tapped his chin, as though he were planning something.
“I’m not entirely sure yet. I’m going to start planning it tomorrow.” It would give her something to do other than waste away in that enormous estate waiting for her husband to impregnant her. “He wants a child,” she said when both men remained quiet for a stretch.
“A baby?” Marco sat on the edge of the couch.
“Of course he does.” Tristan threw a hand in the air. “An heir to the great Jackson Olympus’s empire!” He shook a fist in the air.
“It’s a condition, yes. He won’t be a legitimate heir without a son.” She rubbed her temples. A dull ache formed just thinking about the prospect of a child growing in her belly. Bringing a baby into a loveless family...nothing could be worse than that.
“Ah...” Marco laughed. “Hera’s at it again. She’s been keeping him jumping through hoops for years. Once he has this child, she’ll give him another task. He’ll never see the day Jackson puts him down as a legitimate heir. She’ll never allow one of his bastards to inherit.”
“Hera hates him?” she asked.
“Hera looks at him and sees the woman her husband betrayed her with. Whatever pretense she puts up in front of people is for Jackson’s benefit only. It’s how she keeps him so tightly wound around her little finger. She’s forgiven his sins against her, and he does anything in his power to keep her happy.”
Megara closed her eyes for a moment. Having to raise her husband’s bastard son couldn’t have been easy for her, but Megara had always heard Hera took in Henrik and Castor as though they were her own.
Tristan’s fingers snapped. “That’s perfect.” He hurried from the room, leaving Marco and Megara staring at each other.
“What’s perfect?” she asked.
Marco shrugged. “He’s been trying to come up with a way to help you, to get you away from Henrik, to make Henrik suffer.”
She laughed. “Getting rid of me wouldn’t make him suffer, other than some embarrassment at having lost his wife.”
“Which is why Oliver is sitting out there?” Marco jerked his thumb over his shoulder toward the sliding doors.
“Yes. He’s to keep me from running away.”
Marco grimaced. “That was a horrible plan. I shouldn’t have let Tristan talk me or you into it. We’re lucky you weren’t hurt when Henrik figured it out.”
“You were trying to help.” She gave him a weak smile. The only people in her family who made any move at all to save her from marrying Henrik. “Have you heard from my father?”
Marco shook his head. “No. He’s still angry at us for our part. Give him a few days.”
Megara nodded. He was right. Once her father’s anger subsided, he’d send her mother over to check on her. He wouldn’t leave Megara abandoned with Henrik forever.
“Here.” Tristan came back into the room, kicking the door closed behind him. The painting on the wall shook from the force of it.
“Relax,” Marco urged. “He’s going to come in here if he hears all that banging.”
Tristan looked at the sliding doors and shrugged. “Let him. I don’t care.”
“What is this?” Megara got up from the chair and took the thin oval container from Tristan.
“They were Henrietta’s.” Tristan took the container and pried it open, like the compact she kept in her purse. Little pills were situated in packaging lined in a perfect circle.
“Birth control?” she asked, taking it back from him. “She was on birth control?”
“Do you think we were stupid? We knew what she was up to. We didn’t know the full extent of it, why she was doing it, but we didn’t want her getting pregnant.” Tristan handed her two more slender boxes. “There’s enough here for three months, I think. We can get more after that.”
She took it all in her hands. “He’ll know something’s wrong if I don’t get pregnant, Tristan.”
“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there. For now, just take these. The bastard doesn’t deserve a child. He deserves nothing,” Tristan said in a low voice.
Megara tucked the boxes into her purse, working the zipper over the extra bulge they made. Eventually, he would have questions, would demand answers. But arguing with Tristan would make Oliver suspect something.
“I should get back to the house,” she said, hooking her purse over her shoulder. “I wanted to check in with you. Celeste said you’d been trying to get a hold of me. Henrik had my phone.”
“Of course he did. Did he let you see our messages, or did he delete them?” Tristan demanded to know.
“He deleted them,” she answered, placing her hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry, Tristan. I’m going to be fine.”
He leveled hate-filled eyes on her. “He killed my sister. He deserves death.”
“We can’t ask that of her,” Marco interjected. “We talked about that already.”
Kill Henrik? Could she do something like that? Take another human being’s life?
Tristan shook off her hand. “No, I’m not asking that of her. Go, Megara. Take the pills. We’ll come up with something.”
“Father will be angry if you keep trying to avenge Henrietta.”
“He should be the one avenging her, not making alliances with the fucking devil!” Tristan jerked away from her and moved to the sliding door
s.
“It’s going to be fine, Megara. I promise,” Marco said more calmly. “I’ll handle him.” He winked, gesturing toward his brother.
Oliver was standing outside the door when Tristan yanked the sliding door open.
“Ready?” he asked with a wide grin, his hands tucked into his trouser pockets.
“Yes,” Megara answered. “Let’s go…home.”
17
“You’re taking me to Cavaliere’s?” Megara asked, wide-eyed, as the car pulled up in front of the restaurant.
“It’s the best restaurant in the city,” Henrik responded as his door opened.
“I know how good it is,” she muttered as he held out his hand for her. He helped her from the car and slipped his arm around her waist.
She stiffened beneath his touch, but he didn’t relent.
“Right this way, Mr. Hercules.” The hostess flashed a wanton smile in his direction and showed them to a private table on the second floor of the restaurant, overlooking the river.
“Thank you.” Megara took the menu handed to her and placed it on the table.
Henrik waved away the waitress who approached them and took his seat across from Megara. She’d twisted her hair up into a bun high on her head. While it elongated her neck, showing him the exact places he wanted to kiss and bite, it gave her a more serious look. The black dress hugged her torso, but flowed loose from her waist down.
“Don’t need the menu?” Henrik asked. She folded her hands on the menu and dazed out the window at the lights of the boats floating down the river below.
“I helped create it,” she said, swinging her gaze to his.
He leaned back in his chair. “That’s right,” he said, pretending to have forgotten. It had been the reason he’d chosen Cavaliere’s for their evening together. When she returned from her cousin’s house, a dark cloud followed over her. Oliver assured him there’d been no arguments and she’d been perfectly fine the entire afternoon. Henrik had no illusions she’d missed him during the day, or that she’d been looking forward to coming home to him.
He’d been coming down from the third floor when she’d stepped off the stairs onto their floor. She glanced up the staircase before meeting his eyes, her mouth firmly pressed into a straight line. She’d stiffened her back as though a broomstick took the place of her spine and walked past him to her suite.
Her chilled attitude hadn’t thawed.
“Well then.” He closed his menu and waved over the waitress waiting near the entrance of their private room. “The lady will order for us both,” he said, keeping his eyes locked on Megara.
She turned her head sharply, her mouth slightly ajar. Of course she’d be surprised. It wasn’t like Henrik to give power over, even in the case of a meal. But the silent surprise written on her face cracked some of the stone from her expression, so it was worth it.
“You want me to order?” she asked, leaning over the table a bit.
He gave a curt nod. “I don’t like fish. Other than that, you choose.”
She blinked a few times and turned her attention to the waitress. A subtle pink blush touched her cheeks, splintering even more of her hard outer layer.
“Okay.” She cleared her throat. “He’ll have the steak au poivre, and I’ll have the sole meuniere with rice pilaf.”
“Very good. Can I interest you in a bottle of wine?”
“Uh, just pair the wine with the meals please.” Megara said, handing her menu back to the waitress.
“I’ll take a whisky while we wait,” Henrik added.
“I’ll be right back with your whisky, sir. And would you like something before dinner?” she asked Megara.
“She’ll have a glass of wine. Whatever will go with her meal,” Henrik said before Megara could answer. He may give some power over, but he wouldn’t give it all away at one time.
“I could have answered for myself,” Megara said once the waitress was gone.
“I know.” He tapped his fingers on the tabletop. “What do you know about wine?” he asked.
Her brows furrowed. “Why?”
“Well, I would think you would have ordered the wine by choice, not asked her to pair them.”
Her shoulders sagged slightly. “Wine pairing isn’t my strength. I only know what I like. I’ve never been good at picking which would go best with a meal.” She looked as though she’d just given away the secrets of a great kingdom.
He chuckled. “Then why not just order what you like?”
Her brows rose, as though he’d suggested she get naked right there at the table. Which wasn’t a horrible idea, but seeing as the waitress would be returning with his drink any moment, he’d have to wait.
“Well…because…” she stammered.
He laughed. “That’s not really much of an answer,” he goaded. “No, don’t get mad. I’m teasing.” He reached across the table and touched her hand. “Get whatever wine you like, fuck the rest.” He waved the man waiting in the doorway over to the table. The private room was great for keeping prying eyes away, but in trying to keep the high paying customer happy with the service, there were always a set of eyes around.
“Sir?”
“Track down the waitress and change our wine order to…” Henrik looked over at Megara.
She blinked a few times. “Uh, well…Corruption Red please. Chef Ramone keeps a stock in the cellar. It’s not on the menu,” she said.
“Of course.” The man bent at the waist and winked himself off.
“He keeps a special stock for you?” Henrik asked, tracing her fingernail.
“It’s not a popular wine in this area. A vineyard in the Fox Valley Region ships three cases to Chef Ramone every season.”
“So, he keeps it on sort of a secret menu?” Henrik teased.
She smiled lightly. “Yes. Something like that.”
“And it’s good?” Henrik had no taste for wines. Whiskey or bourbon were his preferences, but he’d give this wine a try if it kept a smile on her lips.
She tilted her head and looked away briefly. “It’s a sweet red blend.”
Henrik’s drink was brought out to him.
“Megara!” An older man hurried into the room, his arms open and a wide grin on his lips. “I heard you were here!”
“Chef Ramone!” Megara stood from her chair and hugged the chef. Henrik looked on from his seat, focusing on the chef. Old enough to be her father, yet rich enough for it not to matter.
“You’re here with your husband? I heard you married.” Chef Ramone stepped away from Megara and reached his hand out to Henrik. “Mr. Hercules, it is an honor to have you in my restaurant.”
Henrik stood and shook the man’s hand. He controlled his grip, but didn’t loosen until a little flick of pain shown on the man’s face.
Ramone wiggled his fingers once Henrik let go, then turned a smile back on Megara. “I had so hoped you would come to work for me once you finished school. But…” he clapped his hands, “I understand how these things work out sometimes.”
Megara’s smile shifted.
“How what things work out?” Henrik retook his seat.
Ramone cleared his throat. “Well, a new wife,…sometimes she doesn’t want to be away from her husband.” He waved his hands.
“Is that true, Megara? Do you wish to remain at my side at all times?” Henrik turned the question to her. Her jaw ticked when she clenched it, but she recovered quickly.
“We’ve only just married. We haven’t even had our celebration yet.” She clapped her hands. “Speaking of that, I can’t think of any better chef to prepare the meal for the party. Would you do me that honor?”
Chef Ramone glanced quickly at Henrik, then grinned. “Of course, Megara. I would be most honored to be part of your wedding celebration…if your husband is in agreement?”
She was planning the celebration party, was she? Well… He gave a slow nod. It would keep her busy, if nothing else, and away from the women housed on the third floor.
“Then it’s settled.” Megara grinned widely. “I’ll call Monica tomorrow to work out the details and menu and all that.”
“Ah, here’s your meal. I’ll leave you to it. Congratulations, Megara. Not only on your marriage, but on completing your studies.” He gave her another brief hug, igniting Henrik’s irritation. The man didn’t need to keep touching her.
“Mr. Hercules.” Ramone inclined his head on his way from the room.
Megara took her seat again and picked up her glass of wine, taking a long sip before giving her attention to her meal. Pleasure. Sincere pleasure crossed her features as she took another sip of wine.
Forced conversation grated him, so he let her eat her dish in peace while he took the first bite of his own. The steak melted on his tongue as the flavor of the cognac in the sauce made him take pause. This wasn’t a meal to be devoured, but savored.
He glanced up at his wife, taking in her purity, her sincerity. Much like his dinner, she wasn’t to be inhaled in one bite, but enjoyed bit by bit.
“What are you thinking about?” she asked when she caught his stare.
He finished the last bite of his meal and put the silverware on the plate. Using the cloth napkin, he wiped his mouth and beard, making sure none of the rich sauce had found a home there.
“I was thinking about what I want for dessert.” He sank back in his chair.
“Oh? They didn’t bring out the menu for that yet.” She looked around the table.
“I don’t need it. I know what I want.”
She brought a forkful of the sweet potato mash to her lips. “And what’s that?”
He folded his hands on the table, leaning toward her.
“You, Megara. I want you.”
18
“No, come with me.” Henrik grabbed Megara’s elbow as she passed his rooms to head to her own.
The ride home from the restaurant had been quiet. He’d been on his phone making calls and talking in code about his businesses. She couldn’t tell what he did exactly, but things needed to be transported. She could guess what the things were.
Megara entered his room and stood off to the side of the door for him to enter. He walked in, shut the door behind him, and shook off his jacket. Flinging it onto an armchair, he turned to her while unbuttoning the top of his shirt.
Finding His Strength: The Dirty Heroes Collection Page 11