Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 75589 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75589 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
“No guessing allowed.”
“Okay, Your Royal Highness.” I smirk. “I was just enjoying watching you. It’s a bit sexy. Is that why you’re forcing me to practice? You want to turn me into an assassin?”
He doesn’t laugh at my joke. “Are you ready for your training?”
“Yes.” I sigh.
“Show me.” Victor’s blue eyes lock onto mine.
“I’m not in the mood. I’m at the part in my parents’ marriage where Momma’s pregnant, hormonal. Dad’s having a hard time putting her first while Greco Tech has its first expansion.”
“They’re not getting along.”
I don’t know if it’s a question or a statement.
“Nope . . . But relationships are validated by their ability to reshape, mold, take on challenges. That’s how they came to be the parents I last remember.” I test Victor to add Uncle Charles into the equation. When he doesn’t, I say, “I'm ready.” Confidence edges my shoulders.
“Head shot.”
“What?” Okay, a momentary lapse in confidence.
“Head shot,” Victor repeats, knowing good and well that I heard the first time.
I pick up my gun and shoot.
The shot lands at the chin. With furrowed eyebrows, I turn to Victor. I’m not entirely sure if this qualifies as a decent headshot.
“Perfect, Little One. Perfect.”
He pulls me toward him. At last, life ripples across his features, and my heart patters at the sight of his elation.
“Stop that. Smile and don't doubt,” Victor adds, knowing me so very well.
When he leans down and kisses me, all thoughts pass away.
29
Victor
Calculating.
Patient.
As I mold Luxury into the person she must become, preparing her to complete Gina Whitson’s diary, I find my rough exterior sharpening further.
The sun peeks through the clouds this morning, so it should put Luxury in a pleasant mood while she practices. With a glance at the clock again, I see she is late.
I exhale deeply as the door to the shooting range opens, glower landing on Burt.
“Where is she?” I command.
“Luxury needs to rest, Victor.”
“Nonsense, target practice is therapeutic.”
“For sociopaths,” he assures. “Your How-to-Make-A-Killer-Mate makeover needs to stop.”
“Too cute. Burt, must I remind you of your duty? The cucumber bullshite the other morning gave us all a laugh. You are my butler, not Luxury’s. She has a throng of maids at her disposal. Your obligations do not include therapy. She’s been through so much. I am helping her.” I begin past him.
“You want her to be like you.” Burt follows me.
“Yes. After her mother’s horrible death,” I say. I have considered how she felt upon viewing Gina’s corpse. It was hard feeling Luxury’s emotions, but I considered the first time Silas made me kill someone. I can only assume the distress was parallel. “She’s also almost finished reading Gina’s diary. If I don’t help her, it will break her.”
“You’ve read Gina Whitson’s diary?” he scoffs.
“Did I say that?”
“Did you?”
“I scanned the journal at first to determine its value. Once it met my expectations, I devoured each word.”
“Value? Pray tell, what is the value of a dead woman’s journal? A woman with no relation to you. How does it concern you?”
I pat Burt’s shoulder with a smile. “Tragedy, Burt the Butler. So much fucking tragedy that—”
“I have still yet to make a connection.”
I sigh. He won’t understand. Burt has always struggled to pull the pieces of me together like a bloody puzzle. Truth be told, he has come the closest, even closer than my parents, my kid brother Graham, or anyone else in my family. I am unlike any other royal. I have dark needs.
“Victor, I have yet to understand your need to read Mrs. Whitson’s diary.”
“All in due time. Tragedy’s written between those pages, Burt. And I’ll be the bloke to remedy Luxury’s shattered heart once she’s concluded the final page.”
“Very well, Victor. Equip the chit with the necessary tools for murder. Although, you may gain more than what you bargained for. I’ll pray that I’m not on holiday when Miss Luxury grows weary of you.”
I chuckle softly. “Oh, we’re having a laugh. Thank you for that.”
“Tosh! You are obsessed.”
“No. Logical. Dynamics, mate, it all has to do with dynamics. Now, where is Luxury?”
“She is helping nurse the newest foal.” Burt sighs heavily.
Inside a stall, Luxury sits on a stack of hay with the new foal. Tears stream down her face as she tenderly rubs the Arabian’s glossy mane. The maid looks to be telling her how to feed the foal. The maid stands up and gives a curtsy. I nod as she steps out.
Luxury’s eyes, though lost, sparkle as she sees me. I realize that she needs rest. Instead of informing Luxury of her tardiness, I step toward her.
My cock responds to the silky invitation in her tone as she says, “I’ve never seen a prettier sight.”
“He is beautiful, and one day, he will be powerful.” I pull at the hip of my tailored slacks before sitting down next to her. As I look at Luxury, I see her potential shining through. You are beautiful, and one day you will be powerful too.