Magnate (Acquisition Series Book 2) (24 page)

More steps in the hallway saved me from having to respond. Sin walked in, his black button down open at the throat with the sleeves rolled up. He wore a pair of perfectly fitting jeans with a familiar belt. Was the room suddenly warmer? My heart skipped a note as he strode to the head of the table.

“I’m not much for ceremony…” He paused when I raised my eyebrows at his words, but then continued, “But seeing as how we have this lovely meal—thank you Laura—and seeing as we have some of Stella’s friends over, we may as well indulge in a little tradition.” He sat and motioned for us to dig in.

Alex wasted no time grabbing some rolls and scooping mashed potatoes. Laura helped everyone fill their plate.

“Laura, please sit,” Sin said. “Where’s Farns?”

“Here, sir. Sorry for my tardiness. My knees, you know.” Farns walked in slowly and took his seat. Laura fixed his plate and then sat next to him. Only one place remained empty.

“Renee?” I asked.

Sin cut his eyes to the ceiling and then back to me. “She may come in later.”

I stared at the empty place setting for a moment before the clatter of silverware and the rhythm of small talk filled the room. I didn’t know why Renee had stayed away, though it obviously had to do with Rebecca. I decided it was long past time for me to find out.

I spent the afternoon with Dmitri, Alex, and Juliet, just talking and laughing. It was as if we’d known each other for years, not just the small space of months. Dmitri and Alex competed on their storytelling abilities.

Dmitri kicked it off by explaining how he became the most skilled rabbit skinner in his town when he was five years old. Then he shared how he was a well known prize fighter in Russia, replete with lots of muscle flexing for emphasis.

Juliet and I, bundled up on the couch in the library, giggled as Dmitri puffed out his chest with pride, and told yet another tale about how he was the first boy to ever talk the town prostitute into giving him a free ride. When he was twelve.

“Was it the pride down below that got her?” Alex snorted.

“Yes.” Dmitri grinned.

Juliet sank back into the cushion next to me and I wrapped my arm around her. “No shame in your game,” I whispered in her ear.

She nodded and snuggled into me. Alex started into a story about the time he went skiing, ran into a tree, and wound up in an infirmary with a ski patrol dick in each hand. We laughed until the sun fell, though the clouds made it impossible to tell whether the gloom was true night.

On Juliet’s turn, she shared her most embarrassing moment—the time she went to a red carpet event with her skirt tucked into her panties. When I was laughing so hard my ribs hurt, Sin walked in.

His stern face softened as he watched me. “I hate to do this, but our guests have to be on their way. The snow is supposed to start in an hour, and they need to be on a plane by then.”

I knew they’d have to leave today—they had other family and friends to visit over the holidays—but I was beyond grateful that I got to see them, even if for such a short time. I forced myself not to cry as I hugged them goodbye and reluctantly let them go. Luke was already waiting outside with their things packed in the limo.

After saying our farewells on the front porch, Dimitri’s face darkened as he approached Sin. Sin met his eyes, not even the slightest hint of fear in his demeanor. I supposed there wouldn’t be, not after what he’d done in Cuba. Sin was capable of horrible acts if something important to him was threatened. The thought sent a shiver through me as sure as the chill wind that promised snow.

“If you hurt her, comrade, I come back here for you.”

“You do that.” Sin gave him a shit-eating grin.

Dmitri glowered, but backed away before squeezing me into a bear hug one last time and stomping down the stairs to the car. He ducked inside and closed the door. I fought back more tears as the car pulled away. Sin walked over and placed his arm around my shoulders as the first flakes of snow fell, the weather arriving earlier than expected.

“Thank you.” I leaned into him.

“You’re welcome.” He kissed the top of my head and led me back inside.

Chapter Twenty

Stella

The fun daydream
over, I stared up into Sinclair’s eyes as he pushed my hair behind my ear. He leaned down to my lips and hovered just out of reach.

“Sin?”

He closed his eyes, as if just hearing me say his name was pleasurable.

“I want you to tell me about the last two trials.”

His eyes opened and he straightened, the link between us broken with a string of simple words.

“We have time enough to worry about that, Stella.” His voice was cold.

“Please, just tell me.”

He rested his palm against my throat. “What did I tell you at the ball, Stella? Anticipation just makes it worse. You have three months before the trial. Don’t spend them worrying.”

“But I worry more when I don’t know.” I gripped his wrist and slid my hand down his forearm. “Please.”

He opened his mouth to speak and then closed it. His grip tightened at my neck. “No. I’m not discussing this. Don’t ask again.”

Stung at his harsh tone, I backed away. He let his hand drop, but he followed my steps until I was backed against the front door.

“Sin, pl—”

“I’m doing the best I can.” He pushed me into the door, his gaze singeing me with its intensity. “I can’t explain it to you, but I’m doing everything I can to keep you safe. But nothing has changed.” His hand was back at my throat, the touch rough as he pressed me against the wood panel. “I still have to win. You aren’t going to stop that. Understand?”

“No. I don’t.” I tried to shove him off but he didn’t let me go, just came right back and pressed me harder, his chest crushing into mine, taking my breath away. I dug my nails into his hand.

Tears welled and ran down my cheeks. “Why is winning more important than me?”

“Because nothing is more important to me than winning the Acquisition, Stella. Nothing.”

“Not me?”

“No.” He said the word with a sharp edge that sliced me so fast I didn’t feel it at first, but then the blood ran from my heart. “Do you think some fucking makes you more important to me than my name, than my own blood?”

I couldn’t catch my breath. He scowled at me—the man who’d just given me the happiest Christmas I could remember, who’d given me more pleasure in one night than a lifetime of nights. Nothing but disgust was written on his face.

“Why can’t you love me?” My voice was choked with tears, but I asked the only question I had left. The only one that needed to be answered.

“It’s not that I
can’t
, Stella. It’s that I
don’t
.”

I pressed forward into his hand, forcing him to hold me tighter to keep me in place. I wanted to see his eyes. “You’re lying.”

“You don’t know me, Stella. You’ve only ever seen what I wanted you to. What I needed to show you to keep you in line. Don’t think for a fucking second I give two shits about what happens to you.”

My tears turned to laughter, and I didn’t care if it sounded insane. “You’re
lying
, but not to me.”

His body vibrated with rage, a frenzy of emotions churning from him. “Shut the fuck up.”

I kept laughing. There was nothing else. He cared about me. I’d seen it. I knew it, and he couldn’t take it away from me no matter what he said or did to me. He loved me.

“I don’t love you, Stella.” But he backed away, only his palm still making contact.

“You’re a fucking liar. Don’t touch me.” I dug my nails in and wrenched his hand away.

I shot past him, darting up the stairs as I felt his eyes on my back. I ran to my room and sank onto my bed. I felt as if I were in shock. There were no more tears, only an empty expanse where my hurt should be. I felt nothing. Had he ripped it all out? Was I broken now? Is this what being broken meant? I lay that way for a long time, seeing nothing, hearing nothing.

Something, some sound—maybe the grandfather clock chiming—woke me from my reverie. I sat up, the night dark and a light layer of snow on the lawn. No moon, just black nothingness above. I let my eyes wander the window sash and then back to my own ceiling.
Upstairs
.
Answers
.

I opened my door slowly and peeked into the hall. It was clear, so I crept down the runner and hesitated as I eyed the rest of the way up to the third floor. My spine tingled, but I took the first step. Then another, then more until I was at the top.

The doors were closed up here, and the air was stale with disuse. The lights overhead were dim, but gave enough of a glow that I could creep along and listen at each door. Nothing. I kept moving until I heard a humming sound coming from the end of the hall. I moved closer, a cold sweat breaking out along my forehead.

I forced myself onward, looking for Renee, looking for some sort of answers.

The last door on the left hung open. I peeked inside. Renee sat in a rocking chair and hummed as she did needlework. The white-haired woman, Mrs. Vinemont, slept peacefully.

Renee must have sensed me, because the humming stopped and her eyes opened wide.

“Stella!” Her voice was a harsh whisper.

She dropped her needlework and hurried over to me. She wrapped her arms around me, but I didn’t return the embrace, my arms numb.

“Why haven’t you come to see me?” I asked.

“I couldn’t bear to leave her. You shouldn’t be here.” She tried to guide me back into the hallway and pull the door closed behind her, but I pushed past her and into the room. Photos lined the walls. So many of Sin, Lucius, and Teddy—beautiful boys who grew into young men as the images continued from one corner to another. Another, larger photo was framed and hung above the fireplace. It was a young woman, her hair almost the same shade as mine, but her eyes the same light blue as Lucius’.

“Cara?” A scratchy, unfamiliar voice.

I turned to find Mrs. Vinemont staring right at me, her mouth gaping.

“Cara, is it you?”

Renee went to her side and gripped her hand. “No, your sister’s gone. Remember, darling?”

“But she…” Mrs. Vinemont pointed a wizened hand at me.

“No, that’s Stella.” Renee’s voice was gentle, as if speaking to a child. “Stella. Remember?”

“Stella.” Rebecca’s eyes cleared the slightest bit, then narrowed. “The peasant?”

“Rebecca, come on now.”

“No, it’s fine.” I crossed my arms over my chest and stared down at Rebecca. “Her attitude helps.”

“My
attitude
?” The older woman sat up in her bed, her familiar eyes perusing me from head to toe. “No wonder my son is having such trouble with you.”

Her voice was brittle, like a dry, crumpled leaf being crushed under a boot.

“No trouble. I just want answers.”

“Well, Stella, let me get up and pour you some tea and serve you some scones while I’m at it.” She cackled.

Renee stroked her hand, but Rebecca ripped it away. “Get out of my room. Both of you are a curse. One after another. A curse!” She repeated “a curse” until the sound trailed off and she glared at me.

“I’ll leave,” I said. “I won’t bother you again. But I have some questions first.”

Renee put her hand up, as if warding off an attacking foe. “Please, Stella. Don’t. Just go. I’m begging you. She can’t handle any talk about it.”

“About the Acquisition?”

Rebecca flinched at my words. “Let her ask her questions. We’ll see if she likes my answers.” She smiled, and I realized what a beautiful woman she must have been. But now, she was nothing more than a ruined, haunted wreck.

“What is the next trial?” I asked.

She hummed some bars of a song I didn’t recognize and said, “Spring is the time for family.”

“What does that mean?”

“I answered your question. Isn’t my fault if you aren’t smart enough to follow it. Next.” She held her hand out, as if scooting me along, and I observed the same smattering of scars on the back of her hand that I’d seen on Sinclair’s.

“What are those scars?” I pointed.

“These?” She held her hand out like she was showing me an engagement ring and batted her dark lashes. “These are from one wonderful night in Brazil. Shall I tell you about it?”

Renee blanched, the color draining from her face in an instant as she shook her head. “Please don’t do this, Rebecca. Please.”

“Have you ever been cut by a sugar cane leaf?” Rebecca’s eyes drew me in, and I found myself walking closer until I stood at the foot of her bed.

“No.”

“It’s a very particular sting, you see?” She ran her fingernail across the lines, retracing whatever pain had put them there. “I took my eldest, Sinclair, to Brazil for a short vacation one time.” She grinned. “He watched me kill a man. I had never killed anyone before. But I killed Mr. Rose. Shot him dead. Do you know why?” She didn’t let me answer. “Because he was trying to tarnish my name, to take what was mine.” Her voice hardened. “No one takes from us. Not again. Not ever. We are the ones who take things.”

She leaned back, her face wistful, though she still watched me. “My son didn’t understand. He kept crying.” She threw her hands up. “The gunshots, the blood, the killing, the bodies—he couldn’t handle any of it. He was weak. He was afraid. He clung to me like I was some sort of safety in the storm.” She laughed, the sound harsh and jarring.

I put a hand to my throat, my hackles rising and my palms going cold. I could see the boy in the photos around the room, the one she spoke of. He’d been so happy, but something had changed, something was different in his older photos. Now I knew what.

She shook her head. “But I
was
the storm. So, after I’d gotten the Roses straightened out, I sat him down and took a sugar cane leaf. I retold the horrible things I’d done, the things he’d witnessed. Every time one of his tears fell, I cut him, and then I cut myself.” She slid her nail sharply across her hand. “I cut and cut until I could make him relive it without a single tear, until he could recite it all himself without blinking an eye—how Mr. Rose had begged, how I’d shot him in the face, how the workers had run and screamed as my men hacked them to death. And then he was strong. Like he is now.” She beamed, pride in her eyes.

My gorge rose, and I grabbed the footboard to steady myself. A bead of cold sweat ran between my shoulder blades.

“Ask your next question.” She folded her hands in her lap, clearly pleased with herself.

Renee cried softly into her palms.

I didn’t know if I could stand another answer. Could I bear more truth from the malice-filled creature before me?

“What are the rules of the Acquisition?”

Another song erupted from her lips, but this one with words,
“Seven rules to see you through. Seven rules to live by. Seven rules to make it hurt. Seven rules to kill by.
”

I shuddered and my knees buckled, but I didn’t fall, despite the heavy weight of dread crushing down on me.

She grinned, her teeth like tombstones in moonlight. “Let’s start with the first, and most important rule of the Acquisition. If you lose, you must kill the last-born child of your line. Weeds out the weak, you see.”

The floor moved under my feet, and I gripped the footboard with both hands. “If he loses the Acquisition, Sin has to kill Teddy?” My voice was far away.

She nodded, her grin growing wider and filling her face like a garish caricature. “Teddy dies.”