"Teresa Denys," I admitted finally. "The Flesh and the Devilwas the one I re-read most often."
His eyebrows arched slightly as he shifted gears with elegant precision. "You speak of it in past tense."
"Do I?"
"You said 'was' and 'returnedto.'"
"Oh, well. I don't own a copy anymore."
What I didn't say was how my father had stormed into my room after I'd declined dinner with the son of his pervy friend, how he'd known how often I read it so he made sure each page was torn while I sat frozen, and he called me selfish and ungrateful as the fragments fluttered to the floor.
Alaric let the quiet stretch between us, his eyes fixed on the road ahead, waiting with the stillness of someone accustomed to others filling silences he created.
"Tell me more," he urged softly when I made no attempt to fill it, voice barely above the engine's purr.
I found myself describing Two-Bit, the chestnut mare that belonged to my mother and who I’d learned to ride on, with awhite diamond between her eyes and one sock on her left hind leg, how she'd nicker when she saw me coming. My father had sold her without a word. I only found out when I went for a riding lesson and was presented with a horse that belonged to the instructor.
I told him about playing Nocturnes in the hollow hours before he had the baby grand hauled away, leaving only ghost-white rectangles on the Persian rug. I confessed my revulsion for the lemon polish that saturated every surface in our house, its artificial brightness masking the rot beneath.
The way seabass made me gag despite years of being forced to eat it. That my favorite color was the distinct shade of midnight blue that appeared just before total darkness. How I'd stay up until three watching Korean Melodramas with English subtitles.
"What about you?" I asked, suddenly aware I'd been talking too long. "Don't I get to learn your secrets too?"
He smirked. "All in time. Today belongs to you." Then his tone shifted. "We're having lunch with my family. They're eager to meet my future wife.”
“Your family?" I repeated back, not expecting that, though I should have.
"Only immediate family and a close friend,” he reassured. “And before I return you home, you'll meet your new security detail."
"You okay?" Alaric asked, his eyes flicking between me and the road when I didn’t say anything else.
"Just processing."
"They'll like you," he promised, his confidence irritating and reassuring all at once.
"And if they don't?"
"They will." He offered no elaboration, as if his word was enough to guarantee my acceptance into his family.
I didn’t have any objections in the first place. I was honestly just coming to terms with it and feeling an odd sense of relief that his words weren't empty after all.
The cage my father had constructed around my life was about to have its first real door.
CHAPTER TEN
Soon, the Panamera glided to a halt before what could only be described as a modern palace. Alaric led me across the threshold into a foyer where my heels clicked against marble that stretched endlessly in all directions.
Somewhere beyond the gleaming walls, voices murmured while the aromas of roasted lamb, citrus, and aged wine wafted through the air. My father's house, the grandest home I'd known, suddenly felt like a country cottage in comparison.
"I won't leave your side," Alaric murmured, his voice barely carrying in the cavernous space.
“If you need to leave, leave. I'm perfectly capable of navigating social waters alone."
His laugh was low, a ripple of dark amusement, his eyes filling with something between appreciation and something else. "Oh, I'm aware, but the pleasure of watching you do so belongs to me now. I’d rather enjoy the view from beside you.”
We rounded the corner into a sitting room vast enough to swallow my father's entire house. Every head turned at once. Light fractured through crystal above us, scattering across marble floors and illuminating the faces of the Kostas dynasty.
Two men rose first. Cassian, Alaric’s brother, and Derrick Voss. I'd studied their photos enough to recognize them instantly.