Fiz scoffs. “Never understood why.”
I don’t respond for a moment. I know Fiz has his own strained relationship with my dad, but I’ve never understood why he’s never trusted him. Dad’s been good to him. He took him in as a kid, given him everything. But it’s not a subject I’ve wanted to broach. It’s between them, and that’s not two people I want to get stuck in the middle of.
I sip some more water to wet this dry throat of mine. “It’s probably just a guarantee of the new arrangement. An heir to merge both families and keep them going. Dad’s already said he wants a grandkid within the year.”
He leans his back against the counter beside me, mirroring my own lazy position. “You’re really not gonna fuck her?”
I screw my face up. “I wouldn’t touch her. She’s a whore. And she’s aValorwhore. I can’t fucking stand that side of the turf. Their dirty drug money and selfish greed.”
I know we’re not much better. We traffic and murder. Only people who deserve it, though. We rid the world of the diseases the system seems to be happy to let roam free. It’s the two-faced lying and double-crossing that the Valors are notorious for that I can’t stand. What’s life without integrity? Dignity? Couldn’t be me. Even if hurting people’s feelings mattered to me, I still wouldn’t protect them. It’s not in Blackwood blood. We run on honour and honesty. And mixing a Blackwood with a Valor is never going to end well. I may respect my dad’s wishes, I may follow any order he gives, but it doesn’t mean I have to live up to the expectations, he won’t even know I’m not fucking her. She just has to be my wife and give the Blackwoods a continued bloodline. That’s it. I don’t think he’ll care how I do it.
“Then let me have a go on her, Cade, I want to see if the stories are true. I need to see that flesh. You’ve just won the jackpot, gold pussy for life!”
I shove him away from me. He stumbles back, a teasing grin on his face. “You really need to get your dick wet if you think Elodie Valor is the jackpot.”
Fiz sighs in a “don’t I know it”way as Alfie appears in the kitchen behind him. He goes straight to the coffee machine as Fiz continues, “I can’t go another fifteen days. I think my balls will literally explode.”
I take a sip of water. “You can because you know it works. You got fifteen out of forty days left, easy shit.”
“It’ll be worth it this year when I get to sink nine inches deep into that sleeping beauty upstairs.”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” I scoff, “and you’re not going near her.”
“We’ll just see.” He winks at me.
I’m only half focused on the conversation as I watch Alfie pour himself a coffee. I make a mental note that’s his fourth one, and it’s not even 11am yet. We’re all abstaining from anypleasurable substances right now, cleansing before The Hunt, but we let Alf have his caffeine. He already abstains from a lot more than most of us on a daily basis, although I don’t like how particularly jittery he is today. He’s already on double what he’d usually have by this time of day.
“She’s going to be a piece of work, bro, I’ll tell ya,” Alf says, turning to lean his back on the counter and looking up to the ceiling.
“How do you know?” I say, turning to him.
“She’s got the look in her eye.” Alfie turns to us and sips his coffee. “The ‘touch me and die’ look. Similar to yours, actually.”
I go to retort about her being absolutely nothing like me when Fiz laughs. “Well, she won’t have to worry about that. Cade’s hellbent on not touching her, and we’re not allowed to either, apparently.”
“Allowed?” Alfie cocks an eyebrow. “You know as well as I do that if I want her, I’ll take her.”
I dismiss the coil of tightness that the prospect sparks in my chest. I keep my voice aloof as I say, “It doesn’t sit right with me if this girl is my wife and my boys rail her too.”
“That was very cutesy of you, by the way, giving her the reins on the wedding,” Fiz says with a wink.
“What difference does it make to me? If I let her do everything, it takes the chore away from me.” I shrug. “Might give her a little sense of security, too.”
“Damn, Cade, you big softie.”
“Fuck off.”
Alf holds up a hand. “Hang on, can we go back a sec? There isn’t a single girl that you’ve had that you haven’t passed down the pieces of what’s left to us. Why her?”
I roll a shoulder and click my neck. “Because I’m not marrying any of those girls.”
Alfie narrows his eyes, studying me. I have to resist the urge to cringe away. “You like her.”
Alfie has this way of psychoanalysing every single thing we do and say. I thought it might be one of his hyperfixations, like the guitar he bought and played for two weeks, now it sits in my attic collecting dust. The month of carpentry was fun. I couldn’t tell you how many splinters our housekeeper, Maggie, had to pluck from his hands. Alfie got a psychology book after his last relapse, and I expected the interest to last five minutes, but three years on and he’s still dissecting our brains.
I lick my teeth and hold back a gag. “No. She’s a mess. I don’t do messes. I do upper class, elegance, respect.Decency.”
Fiz gives Alfie’s shoulder a smack. “Better get in there and make her an even bigger mess before the wedding bells then.”
