“Of course,” was the only reply he was prepared to give. “You have the piece I ordered?” He was not sure feral was the correct word for someone who was considering that which threatened his own sanity—monogamy, of a fashion.
“Si, it came this morning. Have you forgotten your Italian? English is disgusting, yes?”
The three people he loved most in the world were English. Disgusting it was not, a little uninteresting in tone maybe, but irritation bit at him nevertheless. He raised a brow at the moron in loathing, announcing, with only that, that he should not say such things unless he wanted beating severely. It was unlikely he would ever forget such a language. He smirked at Giovani, noticing the clenched cheeks of his ass and the slight shift of his shoulder when he reached for the boxes below the counter
“Master Berriti has been useful, I see.” This caused a hurried shoving of the boxes, alongside Giovani’s frenzied glances at the other staff loitering around the crystal dripped interior. Pascal smirked again at his discomfort, glaring a little at a girl who glanced his way. She should not even dare. He was very much taken by the two women waiting outside. He chuckled to himself at the very thought. Taken. Owned. BY something other than Alexander. It was enough that he tuned out the droning voice of Giovani as he gift-wrapped the boxes. Enough even that, at one horrendous point, he even imagined a white dress to match the carriage waiting for him outside. It disturbed him beyond reason, causing heat to flash down his spine. He tugged at his tie, desperately hoping to alleviate the stress consuming him at the thought. Weddings? Utterly moronic. One had been quite enough, regardless of its registry office deliverance.
Within a few moments, he had found his way back to the carriage, where he opened the door and cropped a strong, “Out.” They both stuck their tongues out again and laughed. He did not mean that sort of out.
“Ask nicely,” Claire said. “You must always ask nicely. Princes have manners.”
Both his brows rose upwards.
“Quite, one gets nothing if one does not ask nicely,” Lilah’s agreed. He would have asked her something extremely pleasantly had it not been for Claire’s presence.
“Per favore,” he drawled, bowing and dropping the steps for them to descend, still distracted by the carriage itself and the sudden connotations associated with it. Claire threw herself into his arms, just as a princess should. Although, she could have given him some warning as he scrambled for purchase. Lilah was more reserved in her exit, perfectly so. Her thigh flashed through the slit in her dress as he took her hand and helped her down. It seemed their little argument earlier in the day had at last been put to bed. They would be having many more, he was positive. As they should. Life was dulled by such as Elizabeth’s blind following. Irrespective of her current rage with Alexander, she wouldn’t have known how to deliver such rage. She was not dominant. Captivating as she might be in her submission, and flawless as she might be for Alexander, she was not needed for the likes of himself. Bite was required. Arguments and opinions driven into his mind whether he liked, believed, or required them. Lilah, thankfully, was the epitome of ‘bite’. Never would she bow down unless forced, and even then, she would not cower, nor would she submit. She would reinforce herself in such a position, build more resolve to deal with his sinful ways, until he would no longer challenge her reasoning. However, paedophile he was not. Such a thing was to be made more than obvious to Lilah, something he had done with force and anger, somewhat disgusted with his own hands as he’d done so.
“What’s that in your pocket?” Claire asked, rubbing herself on his jacket as he tried to hold her still.
“Hmm, what is that bulge you have in there?” Lilah joined in. Bulges were not to be discussed.
“If you cease with your wriggling, you may find out,” he replied, letting Claire slide her way down his leg to jump around the floor again. “Do you never stand still?”
“Still is boring,” she said, flinging her arms wide and knocking a woman into him. He shifted his weight from the disturbance, sneering at the contact. Moronic woman, could she not see him? Lilah growled, a most enlightening sound, and then pulled the woman away from him. Jealousy was indeed alive and well. Bravo. She flicked her hand as the woman apologized then scurried away. Hopefully into traffic.
“Now, you both have gifts.”
“Ooooooh,” they both cooed in a story-time manner, which was also moronic. He rolled his eyes at the pair of them, inwardly laughing at this new, slightly childlike version of Lilah. Princesses indeed. Perhaps he should make her dress in a pink gown for their next encounter. One with frills and petticoats. He smirked to himself at the image.
“Come on then,” she said, her hands on her hips and a still bouncing Claire beneath her feet. “Give it up.” Indeed he would, especially should she find herself a more useful outfit than pink petticoats. That flash of white graced his mind again, and it was not welcome in the slightest.
“Pleeease,” Claire said, beginning to run around him in circles. He very nearly lost his balance trying to keep up with her zooming little feet. It seemed the production of two boxes with ribbons wrapped around them was incentive enough for her to stop torturing him with sickness, though.
“Presents!” she screamed at the top of her voice, causing every other imbecile in the surrounding area to look at the three of them. He supposed he was parked up in a horse and carriage.
He lifted hers up in the air above her, taunting her with it as she jumped repeatedly like his dogs would. Amusing. He missed his dogs. Azeazel especially. Lilah suddenly snatched the box from his hand, crouching down and handing it over to Claire without further ado.
“I was not finished with my–”
“Yes, you were,” she said, rising back up and kissing him lavishly. “That’s for the present,” she said, removing her lips and taking her own box from him, then kissing him again. “That’s for the horse and carriage.” Hmm. It had been quite nice for a change, pleasant even. She kissed him again, biting his lip quietly as she did, “And that is for being beautiful.” Beautiful he most certainly was not. Quite the opposite, in fact.
He stood back a little and straightened his tie, which was still at odds from his outlandish heating incident, but smiled and let the words enthuse him to some degree. That she would use the word was endearing, loving even.
“Hmm, but you know not what I have purchased,” he said to her, staring for a moment before looking at Claire ripping apart sweet bows of silk without thought for their value.
“And I don’t care,” she replied, placing her box into her bag and watching Claire, too. “Today isn’t about me. It’s about you two.”
“Mmm.” It was more about her than she could possibly imagine given the strange episode still consuming his thoughts. White dresses indeed. Perhaps black would be more discerning for such a creature.
“Where to next?”
“IT’S A UNICORN NECKLACE!” Claire screamed from beneath him. He shielded his ears from the horrific sound, trying to accustom himself to the fact that children did this sort of thing.
“Wow,” Lilah said next to her.
Wow? What a preposterous thing to come out of her mouth. Wow was not a word he ever wished to hear from her lips in the future. Claire’s face fell slightly. Such happiness suddenly replaced by sadness. He dropped to a crouch instantly, needing to wrap her little frame up and make whatever the issue was disappear. It was an odd feeling.
“There is a problem?”
“Mama’s not here,” she said, her eyes looking at the unicorn as she tapped it with her finger. “But she said it was alright for me to have it last time, didn’t she?” Hate seethed through him. Hate for the bitch, hate for the need to consider her, hate that she should still interfere in this bond. “And you’re not a stranger.” No, he most certainly was not. “Why isn’t she here yet?” Because she was with Jon fucking Innsbruker. Moronic woman. Moronic to have gotten involved with the man in the first place. Idiotic to have let him anywhere
near the pair of them, and incomprehensibly unlike her normal disposition.
He gazed at Claire, trying to find words that could make her mother not being there better.
“Mama said my daddy lived in Europe. Italy’s in Europe, isn’t it? Do you think he’s here? I’ve never met him.”
He stood upright instantly, flummoxed by the question, his mouth opening only to have nothing come from it. Speechless, he looked sharply at Lilah, needing her guidance, or simply asking for an answer he could not give. She raised a brow in reply, giving him nothing else. It seemed it was his decision to make. Another woman crashed into him as he considered his options, so he pushed her away, nearly knocking her to the floor.
To tell her or not? Here? He looked around the piazza. It was as pleasant a place as any to find out such information, he supposed. It was quite picturesque with its ornate nature on display. Claire slumped to the floor beneath him, seemingly defeated in her confusion as she crossed her legs and sat on the pavement.
“I miss Mama, Pascal.” He remained still, not knowing what to do as tears began to fall down her tiny face. Lilah nudged him, but he didn’t know what for.
“Do something,” she whispered. What? Tell her? Would that make the tears go away? He pulled in breaths as he tugged at his trousers and crouched again, trying to find the correct words for such an offering. He opened his mouth as Claire looked at him, her huge eyes full of bloodshot tears as she continued sniffing. Perhaps now was the time. She was not, after all, going back to Lucinda. She should know. There was a world waiting for her, family to meet. Even if they were all utterly dull. He reached for her hand, wrapping it and the unicorn necklace up in his, somehow hoping this would provide strength for her.
“Not that,” Lilah said sharply. What? He looked up to find her shaking her head and frowning a little. Mmm. Not then. He looked back at Claire again.
“Would you like some ice cream?” It was the only thing he could think of to help a child. Children liked ice cream.
The sniffing stopped a little as she nodded her head and then wriggled her hand from his to look at her unicorn again.
“There is a lady I know who makes it, hmm? Would you like to meet her?” She nodded again, pulling in a few more sniffs and then lifting her little legs up. Good. Ice cream was the new saviour, it seemed.
“I like ice cream,” she said. Mmm. Good. Perhaps she liked dogs, too. She would need to given the amount of them that she would be meeting.
“Well, I like ice cream, too,” Lilah said, nodding at him and then taking Claire’s hand. “Especially salted caramel. Do you think they make salted caramel here?” Claire shrugged her shoulders and stuck her bottom lip out. “And lemon. I don’t know if lemons grow in Italy.”
“They do,” she said quickly, suddenly bouncing her way into the carriage again and chattering away about Sicily. It seemed she knew much about Italy.
He made a phonecall as they began to meander their way through more backstreets, occasionally pointing out places of interest to them. Not the obvious structures. They were indubitably tedious and were most often surrounded by tourists. Heaven forbid he should have to touch one of them or socialise. No, he talked of the old Rome—of Caesars and war. Republics. Relics of years long past. Lilah and Claire listened while they opened Lilah’s present, which was a pair of, apparently boring, sunglasses, much to Claire’s dismay. Lilah wore them well enough, though, grinning at him as she did and then tying Claire’s hair into a bow with the ribbons. He simply gazed on and continued with his history lesson, showing them the places rulers lived, dwellings that were somewhat dilapidated now, but still far superior to the Trevi Fountain or other such mundane places.
The avenues and streets were quieter in these areas, less crowded by cameras and Chinese people with their unending selfie sticks. He shuddered at the words. What moron had come up with such an object? It was of no use. Although, he had heard tell that it was not dissimilar to medical kinks he had played with on occasion.
“Why did it all end?” Claire asked, breaking his thoughts of vaginal inspection. He frowned at himself and remembered who he was attempting to be for the day.
“The people became disillusioned by empiric rule. They took to republican voting and began to rule themselves, some would say moronically. It continues to this day.”
“Because Kings and Queens are so much more intelligent than the people, hey?” Lilah said, crossing her legs and lounging her arm around Claire across the leather seating. “Presumably, Counts and Duchesses, too?” He narrowed his eyes at her. What was she up to? “And of course, when someone is bred to rule, they have the genes necessary to know it all, don’t they?” That last statement was full of sarcasm. He raised a brow at her tantrum and decided not to bite.
“Empiric rule was not about the gene pool. It was about significance.”
“It was about self-centred arses who believed they knew better than others. And given they slaughtered others to apparently unite the world, I can’t quite see the logic in their thinking. It’s akin to third world manipulation because of bloodlines.” He glared at her argumentative tone then flicked his gaze to Claire, who had begun watching them going back and forth like a tennis match.
“There are many forms of manipulation, my love. However, the wars of Rome were waged because of the world’s naivety. Rome did know better at the time. It was beyond reproach in its guidance in creating a civilised human structure. Neanderthal man had barely moved forward in some of the countries they took under their wing.”
She returned his glare, and then turned to gaze to the road instead, kissing the top of Claire’s head as she did and looping the unicorn around her neck.
“Mmm. Then we should thank Rome for its guidance, hey, Claire? Without it, we wouldn’t be able to determine our own futures, would we? Its teaching, I suppose, created a more evolved way of thinking, turned less into more, yes? In fact, it created a people who could rise above the pompous aristocracy and become more than its base could ever deem possible. Stronger, wiser, more inclined to fight for position and power.” He snorted at her wit, watching the way her mouth moved around the words she now began to truly believe and looked back at him. “And Neanderthal man is never far away from what I can see,” she continued, smirking a little. “He lurks constantly in the background. Never seen a Neanderthal woman, though.” Bitch. Correct as she might be. He lifted his chin and turned away, choosing to not rise to her bait with Claire in tow.
“I still don’t understand,” Claire eventually said, scrunching her brow. Hmm. That was because she had an idiot for a mother, one who had most definitely not given her the correct instruction in politics.
The winding roads ended at their destination and he took in the view as the carriage pulled to a stop. It was nearly as attractive as the vista from the villa, and if he stared long enough he could see his own turrets glinting in the sun from this vantage. He hopped out and offered a hand to Lilah, then waited for Claire’s leap into his arms, which duly came amidst a flurry of excitable squeals.
“Look over there,” he said, pointing in the direction of home and trying to show her the path back across the lake.
“I can’t see.” No, and he assumed she did not know what she was looking for anyway as he held her.
“Home, there, see?” Lilah stood behind her and held her head straight, lining it up with the residence and then pointing over her shoulder to help.
“Oh, look,” she said. “I think I see a prince riding to the rescue. Have we left someone there?”
“No, silly,” Claire replied, giggling and turning in his hold to face him. “My prince is here, look.” His heart nearly exploded at the words as she wrapped her tiny arms around his neck and clamped her legs tighter, squeezing her frame into his. Pride, love, a sense of peace. He wasn’t sure which sensation it was, but standing here in broad daylight with her clinging on to him, with Lilah smiling at him as he did, he felt like the world had righted itself somehow. Perhaps the star
s had aligned in that very moment, causing unrestrained feelings of commitment and joy to race through his heart. Perhaps the sunlight was there to drench him in the warmth of its rays, pulling him from the dark’s embrace as it did. Love, unencumbered and let loose. He blinked, almost wondering if the moment were as real as he imagined, and not some wonderland he had invented for himself. But Claire’s hold was fierce around him, reminding him of the fact that this was indeed real. It was within his grasp and he very much intended to accept its hold on him. He smiled at Lilah as she beamed back and took a slight step away, presumably giving them space to bond, a bond he would not have without her. They were as one—united in a sense that no other could create. Not Alexander. Not Elizabeth. Just the three of them. He stretched his hand to her, asking, no begging that she would stay. That she should entertain these fancies, be as one with them both. He needed her within this—not for guidance, nor for the visions of deviancy that she towed with her. No, he needed her for companionship, for respect, for a chance at that damn fairytale she spoke of. He was as ready as he’d ever be to offer connection, open to anything she might request. She simply had to say the words in this moment and he would yield fully, and with no other thought in mind than happiness.
Unfortunately, she frowned a little, still smiling but questioning something nonetheless.
“We’ll talk later,” she said eventually, quietly, but with a determination in her tone that he knew would bear no argument. No doubt they would talk. “Where’s the ice cream then?” she continued, smoothing her furrowed brow as Claire turned to look at her, once again smiling and pretending, for Claire, that everything was perfect. He knew better, though. That simple furrow had been enough for him to know everything. She wanted the truth, and she wanted it all.
He inwardly sighed and lifted Claire from him to the floor where she immediately took his hand.
“Yes, ice cream, ice cream!” she rallied, skipping alongside him as he offered his fingers to Lilah again. She did not take them. She just looked at them and then took Claire’s hand instead.
Serenity's Key Page 19