I can see Carter’s raised eyebrow from here, mocking me after I lectured him on safe sex earlier.This is different. This isn’t just some random bitch; she’s my Madame de Pompadour.It’ll be better for her this way. She can have all the trappings of my queen with none of the boring responsibilities…
A whimper pulls me from my scheming, and I realize I’m still buried in Blanche, pulling so tightly on her leash that she's red, with tears streaming down her face. I unbuckle her, leaving her lying on my desk panting. Rounding the corner, I kneel at her eye level, seeing the bliss underneath her tears.
“Is that what you wanted when you walked in here with a bare pussy?”
She rolls her eyes but winks at me before slowly sitting up, pulling her bra and blouse back into place, and flipping her skirt back down. Crossing her legs and perching herself on the edge of the desk, she would look prim and proper if not for her smeared makeup and mussed hair.
And the fact that I know she’s currently leaking what I gave her. The only woman to have ever had the privilege.
“Well, gentlemen, as much of a pleasure as this was, I really should be going…”
I can’t stop the harsh laugh that escapes as I pass her a glass of water. She gulps it down greedily, and satisfaction curls around my spine. It grows as she sways, dropping the glass and fixing me with an accusing look. She’s incensed as she realizes, yes,but I can see past it.She’s exhilarated.Oh yes, Blanche Bedford. You’ve met your match.
“You won’t be going anywhere except home with me, darling. We have an entire weekend together.”
As she collapses into my arms, I relish her softness and her beautiful skin that will soon be covered in my bruises.
“Well, Sinclair, it’s been a while since we hadthiskind of a weekend—”
“No.”
His confusion is clear as I lift Blanche gently into my arms.
“Not this weekend, Carter. This weekend, I’m not sharing. For now, at least.She's mine.”
Chapter eleven
“I’m going to make my way to bed. I think Katarina will be asleep by now, and I…well, never mind.” Henry stands and rounds the desk, pausing to grab my shoulders. “Good night, brother.”
“Night. I’ll head up in a bit. Sloane is still going through seating placements with Margot, and I hate getting into a cold bed without her lately.”
With one last squeeze, he leaves me alone in his study. The room that used to represent the tyranny of our father. I spent way too much time here as a child, in this very seat, listening to him lecture me on my shortcomings. Our relationship became a cycle of toxicity, and I let it define most of my adult life. That is, until my angel came along and changed me for the better. Not only did she pick up the broken pieces of my heart and cherish them but she’s also helped me heal.
Making my way to what is now my brother’s seat, I sit and imagine what it was like for my father. After yearsand yearsof therapy, I’ve finally learned not to hate him. Maybe it’s because I have a son of my own, and while I know I would never make himfeel like a failure, I also know I’ll never be a perfect dad. And I have to admit, I was somewhat of a terror.
Looking out from where he once sat fills me with complex emotions I’m only recently learning to accept. Henry Sinclair Jr. may not have been cut out to raise sons, but he was a hell of a man in other aspects. He couldn’t have been a better dad to our sister, and the way he cared for Mom is the archetype by which I care for my Sloane. I know Henry, Margot, and even Jack are able to love as deeply as we do because we had their relationship as an example.
Laughter carries down the hall, breaking me from my trance. Smiling, I realize he must have experienced this time and time again. As many negative memories as I carry from my childhood, the positive ones outnumber them tenfold. This estate was filled with laughter, none more infectious than the one currently growing closer.
“Mom?”
“Ledger? Are you in the study? Hold on, darling. I’ll be right there.”
“Good night, Ivan. I’ll see you…later?”
“Of course, my love.”
Mom waltzes into the room with the biggest smile on her face.
“You’re glowing, Mom…positively radiant. What have you been up to?”
Mom blushes, a rarity for her. “Oh, Ivan and I were going through storage for some of Henry’s old baby clothes. I’m sending them off to have a quilt made for our little fourth on the way.”
“Ah…just looking for baby clothes. You weren’t trying to make them too, were you?”
“Ledger Sinclair! I’m past the age of having babies.”
“Ahh! I saidtrying to make them,not having them!” I laugh as she rolls her eyes, fighting a smile.
