1001 Dark Nights Short Story Anthology 2020

by Fiona Archer

  When her smile doesn’t dim in the face of my hostility, I try again. “I’m not kidding. My position here is tenuous. The last thing I want is to give Harrison a reason to petition for my exile.”

  “But Francis—”

  “Call me Zee or go away,” I interject. She knows I hate to be addressed by the name I share with our father.

  Rosalie stamps her foot. She huffs and crosses her arms over her chest, her pin-straight ponytail of almost black hair flipping behind her like the tail of an agitated cat. “Okay… Zee. Sophia will kill me for telling you this, but she needs your help.”

  Her admission makes my heart pound.

  Sophia’s in trouble?

  I immediately search the ballroom to find her. As if she feels my gaze, Sophia turns in my direction and offers me a tentative smile. Her attention strays to Rosalie at my side. I tap my sister’s shoulder and gesture toward her best friend.

  “She looks fine to me.”

  My sister twists around to look where I’m pointing. Before she can respond, Harrison takes hold of Sophia’s elbow and pulls her onto his lap. When she struggles in his grip, he anchors her by wrapping an arm around her waist. As the group of men surrounding them laugh at her obvious discomfort, the color drains from Sophia’s face, and she shoots Rosalie a pleading look.

  “See?” Rosalie implores. Her hand trembles when she lays it on my arm. “She needs help. I can’t do anything, but you can help her.”

  Over the top of my sister’s head, I observe our family’s head of security, Aaron, waving me over. He’s standing behind our father, who’s glaring at me with a dark and brooding look that screams for me to get the hell away from his precious daughter. I pretend that I can’t see his censure and take my time to identify the group he’s standing with. They’re all members of the Coalition, a group of greedy billionaires who’ve joined forces to pull the strings of the people in power, so they can make themselves even richer.

  When Aaron beckons me over again, I lift Rosalie’s hand off my arm and offer her a brotherly squeeze on her wrist.

  “I’m sorry, but I can’t help. If I make one wrong move, Daddy Dearest will send me back to the Balkans.” The disappointment on my sister’s face pierces my chest. If Sophia is my heart’s desire, then Rosalie is my Achilles’ heel. Swallowing down the regret that blooms in the wake of her frustration, I whisper, “You need to go. The devil is watching you.”

  Rosalie whips her head around so fast that her ponytail slaps me in the face. Her annoyance is palpable, but she quickly stifles it and mutters something to herself.

  “Sophia has a crush on you,” Rosalie swings back around and hisses at me. A wrinkle of frustration forms between her eyes as she berates me in a louder voice. “I know you like her, too. Please help. You’re the only man I trust.”

  And with that pronouncement, my sister strides off with a swish of her heavy skirts and a haughty expression on her face, leaving me to wonder why the hell she’s coming to me for assistance.

  * * * *

  “Sit,” my father commands. After the noise of the ballroom, the quietness of his office is welcome. “I have a job for you.”

  My objective is to annoy him, so I take my time settling into the seat instead of answering him. It works like a charm.

  “Junior,” he barks his pet name for me like an obscenity, “I said you have a job.”

  Leaning back, I observe him with a blank expression until I slowly arch my right eyebrow and drawl, “And?”

  The sound his fist makes when he pounds it on the desk bounces off the oak panelled walls. It mercifully swallows the chuckle that escapes my lips.

  “You forget your place,” he thunders. “Your insolence is unbecoming, considering your position. I won’t have my bastard son mocking me in my own home.”

  Over the years, his hatred has become static to me, so I sit back and examine him instead. With his fingers clenched into white-knuckled fists and a vein pulsing visibly in his forehead, it’s clear that the job he wants me to do has him enraged and on edge. Since experience has taught me that pushing him when he’s like this will only backfire, I wordlessly wait for him to get a grip on his emotions.

  “Your brother is getting married,” my father announces in a clipped tone. “And I want you to make sure nothing prevents that from happening.”

  Tension takes hold of the office when I ask, “Okay, but why?”

  “Because his intended is not in agreement.”

  I shrug. “I thought keeping women in line was more Harrison’s speciality than mine.”

  Clearing his throat, Aaron makes his presence known for the first time since he trailed us from the ballroom into the office. He clamps his hands down on my shoulder, holding me in place.

  “How well do you know her?” My father tosses a document at me.

  Every ounce of control I possess is tested when I unfold the paper and realize that it’s a photograph of Sophia. She’s floating on her back in a pool, her tight curves displayed in the red bikini she wears, with her light hair gathered messily on the top of her head. Her eyes are obscured by large sunglasses. Her posture is languid. She seems oblivious to her audience.

  I snatch the photo off the table while I battle the need to beat the photographer to death with the closest blunt object. Grinding my teeth, I tamp down on my rage. I can’t allow myself to react because it would only work in their favor.

  “She’s Rosalie’s best friend,” I reply. My nonchalant tone belies my true feelings for Sophia.

  Cold calculation enters my father’s expression. He looks me over, starting at the top of my head then dropping his gaze to the photo I’ve clenched in my hand. With a conscious effort, I let it drop back on the desk and try to keep my anger hidden.

  Ten long seconds later, Aaron plops down in the second chair. My father leans back in his seat and contemplatively steeples his hands in front of him.

  He suspects something.

  But what?

  “Why are you questioning me like this?”

  My question hangs in the air. Eventually, my father replies, “Her diaries are filled with love hearts, poems, and pages with Mrs. F. Zoran Ingram-Greaves scrawled all over them.”

  The laughter that breaks free of my mouth is genuine.

  Does he seriously think I’m romancing Sophia on the sly?

  How would I have the time? I’m too busy killing anyone who displeases him so he’ll keep me around. And, despite Sophia’s blatant interest and the tightening in my trousers every time we lock eyes, she and I are barely acquaintances, let alone romantically involved.

  “So? I’ve barely said three words to her. She’s a kid.” I force scorn into my voice when I remark, “I’m flattered and all, but I like a little seasoning on my meat. Lamb is tasty on my plate… not in my bed.”

  Both men burst into leering laughter. Father slaps the table and wipes at his eyes. Aaron throws his head back and chortles deviously. My skin crawls at their misogynistic display, although I keep my revulsion to myself.

  Guilt squeezes my heart when Rosalie’s plea for help enters my head. I push it down until it becomes a hollow feeling in my gut that I can almost ignore. I don’t have time for sentimentality—my father’s men beat that urge out of me before I turned twenty.

  “One thing confuses me.” I keep my tone innocuous. “Why wouldn’t she want to marry Harrison? It makes sense for the Ingrams to join forces with our family.”

  Before my father can answer, Aaron snorts. “Apparently, she’s afraid of him. We thought that was a lie to cover her liaison with you, but I don’t think that’s the case any longer. You aren’t acting like a scorned lover… seems she might actually be frightened of him.”

  The disbelief that colors his tone doesn’t sit right. Harrison confirmed his sociopathic tendencies years ago. My brother has taken delight in torturing anything weaker than him since he was old enough to form his fingers into a fist.

  One look at Father, and I can tell he’s h
aving similar thoughts.

  Visions of Sophia at tonight’s ball invade my mind. She’s tall and curved in the right places with an ethereal quality to her. The translucent skin and elegantly slim limbs she had on display in her show-stopping dress will prove a poor match for Harrison’s brutish ways. I’ve been tasked with paying off enough young women after they’ve spent a night in his wing of the mansion to know the kind of painful proclivities my brother gets off on.

  Suddenly, the collar of my shirt is too tight, and I can hardly breathe.

  Allowing my father to see that I care about her would be a fatal mistake. I need to get out of here before the thought of my brother hurting Sophia makes me break into a fit of rage, and I show them both just how much she affects me.

  But before I go, I have one final question. “What’s my role in this?”

  “The girl’s father is on board, obviously,” he hedges.

  “Obviously.”

  From the side of my eye, I spy Aaron fighting off a grin.

  My father ignores my sarcasm. “He has his wife under control, although she’s raised some concerns. The problem is the girl. I wouldn’t put it past her to run. She’s a bit of an oddball. Not interested in looking pretty or keeping her mouth shut. She volunteers at soup kitchens and fills their estate with mangy rescue dogs.”

  As he describes Sophia, the hollowness in my stomach turns leaden. She really is too perfect for this world; a girl born with a platinum spoon in her mouth who manages to remain kind. Another flash of protectiveness mingles with the dread in my gut. It expands until my chest feels like it’s trapped in a vise, and I can’t catch my breath properly.

  “I want you to ensure the girl doesn’t run. Anyway. Anyhow. I don’t care. The Coalition’s decreed that an Ingram must marry a Greaves.”

  My mind races as the implications become clear—this isn’t his plan. He’s doing the Coalition’s bidding.

  “If she doesn’t make it down the aisle, I’ll put a bullet in your sister’s head.” For some reason, Aaron bristles in his seat, but I don’t have time to fully register the change in his demeanor because my father issues his final ultimatum. “Either the girl marries Harrison or your sister dies.”

  His voice is filled with the promise of retribution if I challenge his orders. He’s decided that I care about Sophia. It’s the only reason he’d threaten my sister to ensure I complete this job.

  Indecision plagues me.

  I don’t know if I can sentence Sophia to a lifetime of abuse at Harrison’s hands to save Rosalie.

  The beautiful girl who plagues my dreams or my little sister?

  It’s an impossible choice.

  My mind frantically searches for a way out, and I keep coming back to the same point.

  One Ingram daughter. Two Greaves sons.

  Is the solution that simple?

  Can I take Sophia for myself and save Rosalie at the same time?

  “Do we have a deal?” he demands.

  “Yes,” I state, with false assurance in my voice. “It’s a deal.”

  * * * *

  As morning dawns, I finalize the last details of my plan with my men and hang up the phone. My strategy isn’t perfect, but it’s the best I can do with such short notice.

  There will be a victor by the time the sun rises again tomorrow. Whether it’s me or my father remains to be seen.

  “Rosalie,” I hiss, as I rap my knuckles against her door. “Open up.”

  When she doesn’t immediately answer, I twist the doorknob and let myself in to her bedroom.

  “Lee-Lee, get up,” I order. When she screams and scrambles into a sitting position, I slap my hand over her mouth. Her chest heaves, her eyes widen, her body stiffens, and I rush to explain why I’m ambushing her. “I’m going to help Sophia, but I need you to come with me.”

  Understanding dawns, and she relaxes. My sister pushes me out of the way and climbs out of her bed. When she emerges from under the covers clothed in dark denim and a mohair sweater, I frown.

  “Why are you dressed?” Ignoring me, she stomps over to her closet and returns, towing a small case on wheels. I try again to make some sense of her strange behavior. “How did you know I was coming for you?”

  Rosalie stutters her reply, “I, er, I followed you to, ah, Father’s office... I heard everything.”

  Hitting her with a disbelieving look, I grab hold of her upper arm and drag her into her sitting room. “That was fucking stupid. But it doesn’t explain why you have a bag packed.”

  “I knew you’d come to save me,” she murmurs.

  Warmth spreads through my chest. I can’t remember the last time someone’s had faith in me. Speechless, I tug sharply on a hardcovered Dickens original perched in the bookcase lining the longest wall in the room. A panel pops open with a groan, exposing the entrance to a tunnel.

  “Holy moly. I didn’t know this even existed.”

  I hold my finger over my lips and glare at her until she shuts up. Once Rosalie’s quiet, I beckon her to follow me into the dusty hole. Wrestling the bookcase back into place so we’re safely concealed, I explain, “I’m going to hide you until I’ve dealt with the Sophia issue. Once that’s over, you can come home.”

  “Ok-ay,” Rosalie stammers. “That’s… good.”

  My feet falter when her uncertainty registers. “What’s wrong?”

  “I figured I wasn’t coming back.” Her eyes gleam wetly in the torchlight. “I was kind of looking forward to starting a new life.”

  “Nothing’s settled yet. Sophia might not agree with my plan.”

  Rosalie squeezes my arm. “She will. Everyone knows she can’t stand Harrison.”

  Without responding, I lead her deeper into the tunnels. As we head toward the exit on the estate next to ours, I can’t help but worry that we’re walking into a trap. If a sixteen-year-old can unravel the hole in our father’s scheme, surely Aaron and the rest of the Coalition are aware of the miscalculation.

  I still haven’t developed a viable backup plan when we reach the surface. Quietly, I close the external hatch behind us, and notice that the day is bright and cheery, despite the cloud of uncertainty hanging over my head.

  Rosalie is blinking fast when I spot two people off in the distance. The hulking frame next to the shorter, slimmer person is instantly recognizable. I grab my handgun from my waistband and flick off the safety. The duo approach while I check for signs of ambush. I find nothing, but I reach for Rosalie anyway. She sidesteps me.

  “Sophia! Aaron!” Rosalie exclaims. She claps her hands. “I told you he’d come.”

  She lengthens her stride and takes off toward them before I can stop her. Her rolling case bounces on the cobblestoned walkway behind her, until our father’s henchman catches her in his arms and lifts her and her luggage off the ground.

  I watch with wide eyes as they kiss until Sophia steps closer to me and touches the end of my gun.

  “I don’t think you’ll be needing this right now,” she quips.

  Flicking on the safety, I cock my head to the side and really take her in. She’s unsurprised by my arrival. Dressed casually in denim pants and a sweater with her long hair tied back, she appears carefree. Next to her feet sits a sports bag, and she has another bag slung across her body.

  She follows my gaze then laughs. “It’s a little more practical than a roll-along case.”

  “True.”

  Chuckling, she bumps her shoulder against my upper arm. Awareness prickles over my skin when she leans against me. A dog barks in the distance just as I move to tuck a loose lock of hair behind her ear. Sophia straightens, and I let my hand drop. My chest tightens from her rejection until she offers me a rueful smile.

  “Bringing Felix wasn’t quite so practical, but I couldn’t leave him. He’s family.”

  It takes me a second to understand that she’s talking about the dog.

  Before I can answer, the transceiver clipped to Aaron’s belt squawks. “The dove has flown the coop. I
repeat, the dove has flown the coop.”

  Rosalie finally pulls her lips from Aaron’s, and he puts her back on the ground. I lock gazes with him, wordlessly questioning his intentions.

  “I love her,” he says. “And he needs to be stopped.”

  My sister places her hand on her stomach. “I love him, too... and I want us to be together when we start our family, but that’s impossible with Father in control.”

  As hard as it is to picture my flighty sister with the overly serious behemoth at her back, seeing the softening in his world-weary eyes when he looks at her clinches my acceptance. Nothing about this situation sits comfortably with me, but I’m not going to piss him off when it seems he’s here to help.

  The radio erupts again. I point at the waiting SUV, and Aaron launches into action. He takes hold of Rosalie’s case and runs. I scoop Sophia’s bag from the path and position myself behind her until we reach the vehicle.

  Once the girls are stowed inside, Aaron approaches me.

  I tense, ready for his next move.

  “I’ll head them off,” he promises. I nod. “You need to take Sophia to Vegas and get hitched. Once the paperwork is filed, I’ll inform my contact within the Coalition. Francis isn’t going to like it, but he’ll accept it.”

  “Why are you helping?”

  He lifts his chin toward Rosalie. “He threatened my girl, so I made a deal of my own. Once Sophia is happily married into the Greaves family, the Coalition says Rosalie is mine.”

  I don’t bother to tell him to watch his back; he knows how untrustworthy the Coalition can be.

  As the transceiver lights up once more, Aaron waves me off. He pulls it free and speaks into it, “I’ve found something in the woods. Send all personnel, even the ones at the gatehouse. I repeat, everyone to the woods. The dove has been sighted.”

  He’s given us the window we need to get clear.

  Making the most of the distraction, I speed out of the Ingram estate and past the unmanned entrance to the Greaves mansion with a tight smirk on my face.

  We drive the first hour in silence. I concentrate on checking for tails, and when I’m satisfied that we’re not being followed, I allow myself to relax my grip on the steering wheel.