Twins for the Mafia Heir (The Warwicks #3)

3. Achilles

Chapter 3

Achilles

I should never have accepted taking Raleigh Warwick as a hostage.

Aside from the fact that taking hostages is not how I operate- because it’s not how Fantasia operates- it seems like this girl doesn’t have a single survival instinct stored behind those grey eyes of hers. As London’s golden glow amidst the blackness of night and Heathrow’s illuminated runways come into view, I feel the urge to leave the cockpit and give a half dozen warnings about how to behave in my sister’s presence.

But then the madwoman might try to climb into my lap again.

I take in a sharp breath, trying to wipe the feeling of Raleigh’s warm breath on my cheek out of my mind. I haven’t touched a woman, or let one touch me, in almost three years. And I certainly wasn’t planning on changing that today.

But Raleigh dared to slide her slender fingers up my thigh. She got so close I could smell her vanilla soap-

I clench my armrest so hard my knuckles turn white. Guilt and disgust make me grit my teeth so hard my jaw creaks.

These thoughts are a betrayal, even if they’re a betrayal of a memory.

Besides, she was clearly trying to distract me, or otherwise coax me to her side. Her touches and words meant nothing.

I wait until the last moment to return to the cabin to fetch Raleigh. She looks suitably chastened after being left on her own for so long, but it’s guilt I feel instead of satisfaction. I caught an hour or two of sleep during the flight, but I can’t imagine she did. Instead, she’s been stuck in her seat with nothing to do and no one to talk to for ten hours. And I doubt she’s ever had to deal with timezones or turbulence. I’m lucky she didn’t get sick all over herself and the seat. Not to even mention that I have no idea when she last drank water or ate a meal-

Fuck . I’ve absolutely bungled this. And all because I was pissed at myself for the thrill that went through me when I felt her weight in my lap.

When I reach down to undo the straps on her wrists, though, I have to pause. The knot is looser than it was. Really, she’s just holding her hands inside the straps to look like she’s still bound, but she could get up at any time if she wanted. I give her a narrow look as I finish untying the knot, but she just stares back at me with her large grey eyes, rubbing her wrists, innocent as a daisy.

Fair play then. I shouldn’t have left her alone for so long. I won’t make that mistake again.

I buckle her seatbelt for her and return to my seat on the couch. “We’re landing soon. It was about ten in the morning when we left the Americas, so it’ll be-” I check my watch and reset it. “Just about midnight now. Fantasia is likely still awake, so we’ll meet her straightaway. Are you hungry at all?”

Raleigh shakes her head. I wonder if one of the things she did when she slipped her restraints was raiding the snackbar. Again, fair play.

After her transparent attempts on my person, I’m not in the mood to make small talk while we land. Raleigh’s hands clench her armrests, and her face goes pale as the plane bucks lightly, but we’re coasting soon enough. Once the plane has stopped, I get back to my feet and release her from the chair. Raleigh flinches at my touch, but I haven’t hurt her. Her cheeks and neck blush with red blotches.

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs as I lead her down the stairs off the plane. “For trying to-”

“Seduce me?” I say bluntly. “Don’t speak of it again.”

I certainly never want to think of it again.

Raleigh may be a hostage, but it’s also entirely possible she’s never left the estate that was her home in her entire life. Her eyes are huge orbs reflecting all of London as our cab takes us down the narrow streets, her breath puffing against the cold glass. The city is in the very midst of the holiday season, so I suppose the decorations on every lamppost and in every shop window make it look like a fantastical wonderland.

It’s crawling closer to one in the morning when we finally make it to the gates of Wesley Hall, but Raleigh’s internal clock is still telling her it’s eight in the evening. And mine is fucked to hell after two back-to-back flights over the ocean.

I pray that the housekeeper, Mrs. Garrow, has been keeping track of Sidony’s bedtime, otherwise it’s entirely possible she tried to stay awake until I came back.

Goddamn Fantasia. I hope this is my last trip out of town for a good while. Except now, even if I’m home, I have a hostage to keep two eyes on.

Raleigh shrinks back in her seat a little at the dark hulk of the Jacobean manor ahead of us. It’s surrounded by manicured lawns and hedges, but the house itself looks its age. Warwicks have been living in Wesley Hall for four hundred years now, and only under Marcus’s reign were efforts begun to restore and properly modernize the house.

Fantasia’s coup stopped all that.

My limo drops us off at the front steps of the house, but I don’t take Raleigh in through the double doors to the front hall. Instead we go around the side of the manor to the kitchen entrance, usually unlocked even at this late hour. Raleigh is desperately trying not to shiver in her light sweater and jeans, and I make a note to find some more weather appropriate clothes for her.

Inside, at least, the kitchen is cozy and warm. We find a few members of the staff smoking and playing cards around the table. They greet me with muted nods, knowing how little I like to be paraded around. Mrs. Garrow asks if I’d like an espresso made, despite the hour. It’s a tempting offer, but I decline. I’d rather get this meeting with Fantasia over and collapse into bed as soon as possible.

My sister is impossible to please. Even if I’d managed to pull off my mission without a single hitch, she would find something to be upset about. Since I essentially failed and brought home a hostage as recompense, I can only imagine how she’ll be.

We leave the servant’s part of the house and make our way down dimly lit halls. The manor was updated with electricity a few generations ago, but everything is old and failing. The great hall was successfully updated, and the main suites for family and guests as well. But passages and rooms near the back of the house still flicker on bad days.

“Don’t speak to Fantasia,” I tell Raleigh as we approach the sitting room my sister most likes to haunt. “She likes to be offended.”

Raleigh nods, but I’m not convinced. She’s proven more than once to have a reckless streak that I can’t predict.

“If you try to seduce her too, it will go worse than it did with me,” I warn.

Raleigh flushes all the way down to her neck. It’s easy to make her blush, I’m noticing. I shouldn’t notice.

“I’ll be quiet,” she promises tightly.

I hesitate at the door to the drawing room a moment longer and wait until Raleigh meets my eyes. “Not. One. Word,” I press.

Raleigh frowns up at me. “Not a word,” she agrees.

I can’t stay out here forever in this hallway with her. With a sigh of resignation, I push open the drawing room door and enter with Raleigh in my shadow.

There are no lights on in the long room. The only illumination comes from the enormous crackling fireplace, where three plush armchairs are huddled. Fantasia’s willowy frame is folded into the one closest to the flames.

She must see me enter from the corner of her eye, but she doesn’t bother to look away from the dancing fire. I wonder what she sees in it that keeps her staring for hours.

“Fantasia,” I call from the doorway. Thanks to the darkness of the room and Raleigh’s petite size, she’s practically invisible from her place at my shoulder. My sister hasn’t noticed her yet.

What will happen when she does?

Fantasia blinks for the first time since we entered, as if coming back from a place in her mind very far away. She turns in my direction, but of course she’s completely nightblind and can’t see where I am. “About time you got back,” she says bitterly. “I was beginning to think you forgot about me.”

If I really did leave her behind, does she honestly think I’d abandon Sidony too? I let out a short sigh. This isn’t the first time she’s made fatalistic comments about being abandoned by me, and every time she does I get a little closer to properly strangling her.

“Thomas was not on the estate when I arrived, so I spoke with his aide,” I say, ignoring her dramatics. “We came to a different arrangement.”

That gets her attention. “Are you telling me no one signed the papers?” she demands, finally sitting up in her chair.

“Thomas’s signature is secured,” I tell her. “It’s just delayed.”

“What does that mean, Achilles?” Fantasia hisses. She climbs out of her chair and stalks toward me, then freezes in her tracks.

For the first time, she’s noticed our ‘guest.’

Her green eyes narrow, and she bares her teeth in a grimace.

“What the hell did you bring me, Achilles?”