“If you say one more word about Father Bariston, I’m going to email him your browser history.”
He changes the channel to that stupid cartoon about a family of pigs. Accurate, considering what he’s behaving like. “Joke’s onyou, I’d be delighted for him to see. You can keep your academic accolades; my favourite achievement is being Father Bariston’s greatest failure.”
He shouldn’t sound so proud of it. The idiot nearly sent Father Bariston into an early grave when he saw his Latin test results. It brings to mind how he fucked up the Latin words on the painting outside.
Embarrassing ass.He sits there, lounging like sin in a chair probably older than our bloodline. His feet are kicked up on the coffee table, and his coat is on the floor.
And his hands are onmyremote.
I motion towards the grand doors, choosing to ignore his pride. “You have your own fucking rooms. Why are you here?”
“Because yours has better tension.” He shrugs one shoulder. “You haven’t even said hername, Eric. What, afraid you’ll combust? Bet you’re undressing her grief like it’s lingerie.”
I raise a brow, coming to a slow realisation—a truth I’ve overlooked because of everything else that’s been happening around me. “There’snobodyin this castle who would do anything to me if I broke your nose.”
That makes him freeze, and he glances over his shoulder at me. “Are you… Are you gettingviolentnow? Just because I’m admitting what you won’t?” He says it all with a mischievous grin because he knows what he’s doing.Poking.
“You’re not funny. You’re not charming. And you’re not going to get me to crack.”
I turn away for five seconds, and that’s all it takes.Five seconds. A loud, enthusiastic moan cuts through the air, followed by the distinct sound of skin slapping against skin. There’s a naked woman on the TV, bent over a patterned chaise whilst she gets taken from behind.
I blink at my brother. “Are you serious?” Lady Athena glares at the TV, her black veil now lit up by flesh tones. “Kai, turn that off.Now. I’m not asking.”
He doesn’t. Not immediately. “Oh look, it’s porn. Must’ve clicked the wrong button.”
“Yes, your thumb slipped and accidentally landed on high-budget cock. Turn it off before I stab you with that letter opener.”
“It’s like the channels knew exactly what you needed. God, justimaginegetting off in here. The lighting, all the gold accents and the ancestral trauma? If I’m going to help you corrupt a bloodline, I’d wanna be doing it while lying on velvet. Bet the ghosts would be into it.”
The moaning continues, only growing louder. “You’re a fucking child,” I snap. “If I wanted to watch two people fuck each other’s brains out on a Victorian settee, I’d ask to watch the security footage of this place. Now, can you turn that off?”
Kai only makes himself more comfortable and dares to turn it louder. “You’re being dramatic. It hasn’t even gotten that graphic yet.”
I cut him a look sharp enough to shave that facial moss he calls stubble. “You’re seriously watching porn in a room that smells like embalming supplies and holy water? The woman in that painting probably had a husband who led wars, and you’re making her watch a blowjob in 480p.”
He cuts Lady Athena a glance. “She looks intrigued, though.”
“She looks like she’s about to resurrect herself out of sheer rage.” Another moan. A wet one. Jesus Christ. “Turn that off. I won’t ask again.” I move towards him to grab the remote, but he flips it over and sits on it. My brother—a twenty-four-year-old menace with the emotional maturity of a wet sock—sits on the remote like it’s the only throne he’s ever earned. “Kairos.”
“Art needs to be protected.”
As though his ass knows exactly how to shift, the TV fucking grows louder. The woman is screaming now, something high-pitched and scripted.Yes, baby, right there. Harder, please.The man slaps into her like he’s trying to break the goddamn settee.
Everything reverberates through the room, and I swear Lady Athena turns further away. The squeak of fake pleasure and impassioned yells is having a field day with the acoustics in this place, and Kai laughs.
The word ‘Daddy’makes an appearance, and I’m seconds away from strangling my brother when there’s a loudclick. Low and mechanical, just to the left of my massive bed.
The wall slides open.The wall.A vertical seam appears between two floor-to-ceiling bookcases, and a wooden panel eases backwards before shifting aside and revealing a stone archway.
And Francesca steps through, still dressed in that pretty green outfit, but it seems her hair’s been dried. They fall in soft strands, almost to her knees and longer than her hemline, where her ringed fingers are elegantly interlaced.
Her cheeks are slightly flushed as she steps inside, and she speaks before she sees—or hears—what’s playing. “I forgot to mention that this corridor links to my room…” She freezes when the situation hits her fully, and her eyes dart instinctively to the source of the noise.
The fucking TV, where the woman is now riding the man and screaming,‘Yes, just like that! I can feel you in my womb!’
I want to die.
On the fucking spot.
