I don’t give a fuck about his throw. Or him.
“Who did you kill?”
“A man attacked me.”
“Fair enough.”
My father sits back in the leather wing back chair he’s had as long as I can remember. He’s smiling as if he knows something.
“Was it you? Did you finally hire a hitman?”
He laughs. “No. It isn’t worth the cost. Try the bitch you’re fucking.”
I don’t rise because I never have, except the once, when I had my hand around his throat and he was choking. He’d threatened me with prison, being disinherited and I laughed and tightened my grip because ultimately I didn’t fucking care.
“I think it’s more likely to have been arranged by Majken Smith, and I know you are fully aware of who that is.”
He blanches.
I put down my glass.
“I think you and Majken have a friend in common. And both you and this friend have a shared interest.”
He stares at me, any pretence at calm eradicated.
“And what might that shared interest be, son?” He lights a cigar. Probably Cuban.
“A no deal between England and Scotland. The opposite of what you’ve been advocating.”
“You’re talking shit.”
I laugh. “You’re the worst liar I’ve ever come across. How the fuck were you a politician?”
“There won’t be any form of alliance between us and Scotland because your little princess hasn’t got a sensible thought inside that blonde head. Bet she’s a good fuck though.” He sits back and I don’t punch him. Years of practice.
“This has nothing to do with Blair.”
“This has everything to do with Blair.”
He shakes his head. “Why don’t I want her as queen then? Why am I so fucking bothered if she’s the monarch or not? You know as well as I do that she’ll abdicate within a year.”
I don’t flinch. I’ve thought as much. But this isn’t relevant to the game he’s currently playing.
“If she isn’t queen, then it’ll be Lachlan who takes the crown.” Her eldest cousin. “He can be bought.”
“Who says he hasn’t already? And as for your princess – she’ll be the biggest traitor to her country, trust me on that.” My father stands up. “Clean yourself up. Stay here. I’ll sort an alibi. Where’s the body?”
I tell him.
“I’ll have it taken care of. Might frame your brother.” He chuckles and I’m not sure of how serious he is. “I’ll think about it while I check in on my guest. Keep yourself to your quarters.”
“Where’s your wife?” It was a question I’d repeated many times since I’d first met him.
My father stands up, laughs again. “Same place she always is.”
In the dark.
Always.
