“I ran into Juliette earlier. Who’s the girl?”
Cupping my nape, I met my son’s questioning gaze with a soft sigh before I relayed everything, starting with the Blackhall party right up to Mark’s visit.
Saint leaned back in his chair and rubbed his jaw, his expression thoughtful. “Did the fucker kidnap her? Related?”
“No clue. The man seems to be on a permanent holiday. No one can tell us his whereabouts,” I gritted, still pissed the man had gotten away with it. “Until the girl talks, or we find someone willing to shed some light, we’re in the dark.” Slowly, I shook my head, wishing for more information. “Apart from a ribbon around her wrist that she latches onto when questioned, each time I try, she either replies with monosyllabic answers, doesn’t know, or bows her head and stares at the floor.”
“Slave or submissive?”
“She called me master.” I scoffed, earning a rueful look from Saint. “Don’t go there, son. This is definitely not the time.” His raised brow said otherwise. Admittedly, the word caught me by surprise, triggering the dominance I’d staved off for a bit. “Son, not only did this man break the girl’s body, he crushed her soul. Her trauma is indescribable, and that’s only from what I can see, not what I’ve heard. So far, she hasn’t shed a tear, not even when she shattered that mirror.”
“And who better than you to help her heal?” He gave me one of his familiar ‘quit demeaning yourself’ looks.
Saint was always privy to my emotions, no matter how hard I tried to hide them. He knew I didn’t take the family before friends’ motto lightly. They came first, sometimes to my detriment. This wasn’t the first time he pushed me to put myself before others.
Ignoring his suggestion, I sighed. “I want to say sub, her behavior, however, is indicative of a slave. If I’m right, he used trade-offs to keep her in line.” I dragged both hands through my hair, stifling a yawn. “Since her arrival here, she hasn’t allowed anyone near her except me. She lets Juliette close to check her wounds, only if I’m present. She won’t accept the clothes Juliette brought her and seems to find comfort in my shirts.”
“She’s latched onto you, and why your scent brings her calm?” Saint studied me with that usual blank expression. “Is she the reason you look like you haven’t slept in days?”
“Are you saying I’m not doing a good job hiding my fatigue?” I laughed. “Drink?” At his nod, I stood and walked over to the bar. “I don’t blame her lack of trust, she’s been traumatized for so long, I’m inclined to believe she’ll never trust anyone.” I poured two cognacs and brought them over to him.
He accepted the glass and took a drink. “Knowing who’s involved, do you think it’s wise keeping her here.”
“I’m not letting her out of my sight.”
I assumed I’d kept my emotions in check until he said, “possessive doesn’t become you, father.” His eyes danced with amusement.
Hiding my smile behind my glass, I took a sip before replying, “she’s safe here.”
My son wasn’t easily fooled, and as John pointed out, I had to question the girl’s unexpected hold over me. I eyed Saint over the rim of my glass, catching his reflective countenance with a smirk before striding over to the window. There, I slipped my free hand into my trouser pockets and stared into the immaculate gardens that fronted the castle. “Never in my life have I been this sure about something, son. Don’t ask me why or how, but some consistent niggle since the day I laid eyes on her is pushing me to do right by her.”
He came up next to me. “Juliette says you’re making amends, exorcising demons?” His expression curious, he studied me through intelligent eyes. I laughed softly. “For what exactly?” he asked when I said nothing. “I agree some people might consider what we did to those girls during the rituals was sick, maybe perverted even, but we were merely following the dictates of the Brotherhood. All of those girls were here by consent, both theirs and their families, well accept Levana.” He chuckled, and I smiled, loving how her name brought an unconcealed glow to his face. “So why do you believe this is payback?”
“You don’t think what we did was wrong?”
“If I did, you wouldn’t be born, or I’d be dead. There’d be no Sinclair name.” His tone, matter of fact, then turned fully to face me. “Ritual aside. Think about all the good we’ve done in this fucked up world, Father. The schools, allowing bright kids with a potential future to study for free. The nursing homes for homeless old folk who have no one and nowhere to go. Housing schemes for families about to be tossed out on the street. And let’s not fucking forget the human trafficking assholes we busted. A hundred girls, father, that’s how many we prevented from being shipped to God fucking knew where.”
He was right. One of our handlers had messed up. He got involved with a Russian family and tried offering us twenty virgins for the last ritual. We only ever allowed two maximum per handler. That way, we ensured they were legit and maintained the privacy of our traditions. Thankfully, Saint’s brevity and Wilkes’ quick action prevented the Sinclair name from being forever tarnished and our secrets safe.
“We both know that list is longer than the mistakes we’ve made, Father. Do you honestly think that isn’t enough to justify our good name? To honor the royalty you deserve. I might be many things, but I’ve never been complacent when I knew we were doing something wrong. So why should you?”
I acknowledged his argument with a soft nod. Over time, with every prince who’d taken his rightful place in Sinclair royalty, we’d dedicated money, time, and available resources to good causes that might’ve surpassed the obligations of England’s wealthiest. Some might call it a lie to compensate for our wrongdoings, yet we never held back, knowing the chances of breaking the curse were slim to none.
“It is.”
“Despite being a descendant of royalty, you’ve always been a humble man—one I’m proud to call my father, and you’ve always put yourself out there. So, if you think helping this girl is something you need to do to overcome these so-called demons you harbor, I’ll stand by you and help where I can. But please don’t call it payback.”
I stared at my son. My chest tightened, knowing I’d kept so many secrets from him—some for his benefit and others for mine and the family. Perhaps I didn’t deserve the respect he bestowed upon me so readily, and maybe I did. It all depended on who argued the point. One day, I’d tell him, today was just not that day.
“Come.” I grasped his arm lightly and set my glass down on the table. “Let me introduce you to her. Your handsome face might get her to talk or do something other than stare at the television.”
“You think that’s wise. I’m considered the devil of mercy, remember? She’d probably run in the opposite direction.”
“An apt name, son, and I never thought I’d say this, but I think you’ve been tamed. Just ask my future daughter-in-law.” I chuckled as we left the room. That bubbly girl had my son’s heart, body, and soul wrapped around her little pinkie.
He grinned. “I don’t disagree.”
Upstairs, I motioned for him to stay out of sight and tapped on Cinder’s open door. As usual, she sat huddled in one corner of the bed, her knees drawn up to her chest and her body covered by the red throw. Cautious eyes shifted from the television to me.
