Cole’s face remains the usual — bored, like he’ll commit suicide because of how dull the world is — but he stops twirling the pen.
“Ronan was just leaving,” he says.
“Blasphemy. I wouldn’t miss your mum’s cooking for the world.” She’s a bestselling author and yet still finds time to cook the best meals. Silver’s mum is hotter, but Cole’s mum is homier, softer and Mum’s friend. If I were Silver’s father, I would’ve had both. Just saying.
I jump up and wrap an arm around Silver’s shoulder. “Is it only me, or do you look so hot even in house clothes?”
She grins and flips her golden hair. “What can I say? It’s my default.”
I steal a glance at Cole and he mouths, “Leave.”
I pretend I didn’t see him as I walk with his stepsister down the hall.
He catches up to us and whispers so only I can hear. “Leave before I break that arm.”
“Silver, did you hear someone talking?”
“I don’t think so.” She smirks, and I smirk back.
I’m starting to feel how Aiden did all those years. This sense of power over Cole is euphoric.
My phone vibrates. It’s a text from home.
Lars: We have a situation.
After kissing Cole’s mother on the cheek and pissing her son off one last time, I leave their mansion.
I arrive at home in record time. I called Lars on the way here, but he didn’t pick up, which means he’s busy doing what-the-fuck-ever and doesn’t have time for a phone conversation.
This better not be what I think it is.
The moment I step into the house, I feel it — the change in the air, the shift in the atmosphere. Even the usual jasmine scent Mum loves so much seems to dim, swallowed by a different type of smell.
Something potent and yet unnoticeable.
Lars appears at the entrance and nods in the direction of Dad’s office. I don’t have to be told twice, and I take two steps at a time, only stopping myself from running because staff members shouldn’t see an earl’s son running.
Pretty sure they also shouldn’t help him throw parties or hide his weed stash, but semantics.
I’m near the office when it opens, and two men emerge. One is my father, and the other is his younger brother, Uncle Eduard.
Unlike my father, Eduard is an energetic man in his late thirties. He works in the imports and exports branch of my father’s business. He’s basically Father’s right-hand man, aside from being his most beloved brother.
He dresses in eccentric colourful suits — his way to attract attention. Today, it’s dark purple with some mosaic-coloured cloth at the breast. While Father is tall and broad, Eduard is lean and has scrawny shoulders. His looks are average at best: round nose and slightly bulging green eyes, as if they’re not able to fit in their sockets. The genetic difference between him and my father is noticeable. One looks every bit the aristocrat he is, while the other appears like a charity case — which he was at some point, being a stepson of the Astor family.
The moment he sees me, Eduard abandons Father’s side and clasps me in a hug. I freeze for a moment, meeting Dad’s eyes, and then I wrap my arms around my uncle, patting him in that ‘people with titles don’t hug’ awkward way. Even my father shakes his head at that.
He never managed to get Eduard to quit this habit. He never will.
“Look at you, nephew.” Eduard pulls back to look me up and down. “You’ve grown.”
I grin. “You’re still the same.”
He laughs, the sound like a song gone wrong before ending on a smashing note. “That I am, nephew.”
“It’s a surprise to see you here.” I stare between him and Dad, hoping one of them will explain his sudden return from the other side of the world. I thought he was responsible for the Australian branch and wouldn’t return anymore.
“Edric called me back.” Eduard squeezes my shoulder. “Isn’t it wonderful?”