Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 67518 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67518 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
12
VICTOR
Day Eleven
I remember my ninth birthday. Survival of the fittest was a doctrine I came to understand intimately.
I took my first life.
A tiny, unsuspecting bird.
A finch.
My sadistic father, third son to the Queen of England, had a ruthless way of making me pay for being his first born. The bloody bastard also had countless older sisters to step on. With the Perth Agreement's implementation, he surely imagined neutralizing all of them a thousand times over. Instead, he saved his carnage for me.
Now, I was a tiny ball of rage as the Rolls Royce glided through the passageway of my mother’s estate.
I wrenched my murderous hands in relief and impatience to return to Burt. Father would go away again. Life would resume as normal.
Burt opened the back door. His eyes transformed into gray metal the second I climbed out. Burt directed a glower toward my father, then me, then that arsehole of a prince again.
I had grown accustomed to the pain of being punched in the shoulder or kicked by Father when my target wasn’t precise. But Burt’s expression told me my face looked like shite.
“Should you be dismissed of duties?” Silas challenged, stepping out of the other side of the luxury vehicle with a glass of brandy in hand.
“No, Father. Burt, help me retrieve my luggage,” I quickly cut in as Burt silently seethed.
“Help the butler!” Silas’ voice boomed. “Ah, now I gather why you’re such a ninny. You,” Silas pointed to Burt, “retrieve your last wages, never return. Victor, you grab all our things. I’ll make a man of you, yet.”
He didn’t stay. Later I would learn how my father had met a billionaire heiress. His other son, Lincoln, wasn’t too much younger than I. As luck would have it, I was only confined to father-son holidays on the rare orders of my grandmummy, Her Royal Highness. It was Burt and me until my full-blooded little brother, Graham, was old enough to tag along.
As I reflect on Luxury and her mother’s relationship, I can’t help but admire her. To have been so close. How valuable is that? While Luxury and her mum baked cookies, I honed my hunting skills. I lived in the same home as my mother yet had engaged in conversation with her sparingly. She had to assume Father’s duties after all. Not that my father was required to enter an arranged marriage. His only corrigible quality was allowing the Queen to select his wife, an apt enabler. I grew up and transformed into the man I am today with Burt’s caring, Father’s cunning, and a sliver of guidance from Mum.
It’s a dreary October day, much like it is back home year-round. The sky threatens rain, but the lush green rolling lawns extend as far as the eye can see. Sidney Golf and Country Club is sparse for players on such a crisp, cold day, and the tennis courts around us are half as active. All the blue bloods of New York huddle inside the vast country club with a drink or cigar.
“Look at you, Duke of Arlington, consorting like a commoner. If Mum could see you now.” Graham wraps me in a brotherly hug with a smile plastered on his baby face.
“Well, if Mother saw you here, she would be appalled all the same, Graham.” I take a deep breath. Graham has no royal tasks to consider. With the Queen’s many children and grandchildren, we’re last in line for succession. I’d kill to insert a greater distance between myself and the throne.
I ask, “How long have you been in the States?”
Graham laughs at me as we unzip our tennis equipment.
“I have a few homes here, Vic. Martha’s Vineyard, Beverly Hills, Vegas—”
“Graham, you have not acquired any assets in Vegas,” his butler interjects, standing like a penguin statue on the sidelines.
“Fuck me, I’m bragging.” Graham nods. “Almost bought a place in Vegas. After careful thought—”
“Used your noggin, eh?”
He laughs. “At precisely the last second, I came to realize living in Vegas would ruin the allure. Also, I need more money.”
My investment team has grown about three hundred years of Tudor funds, but Graham could blow it all in one day. “Tosh, baby brother, your allowance increases annually.”
After commencing a set, my flashy, younger brother can’t even keep up. He’s lean, at six-two, slightly taller than me, and neither plump nor skinny. He’s only got enough skin not to get called a scrawny wanker like he did as a child.
I quickly dominate the court. No exertion. I sweated more while teaching Luxury different sexual positions. Her gorgeous body is still on my mind, and I contemplate my gift for her Saturday night before releasing her Monday morning. My cum all over her glorious body. You wanker, Vic, you didn’t verbally release her. I whack the tennis ball with all my might. Swoosh it goes. Instead of hitting it back, Graham plunkers down.