Twins for the Mafia Heir (The Warwicks #3)

20. Emma

Chapter 20

Emma

A chilles doesn’t touch me again after that night.

I try to provoke him by repeating my questions about why he wants Thomas’s money, but he doesn’t even try to distract me from them with sex. He just meets them with stony silence.

I’m equally disappointed that he’s failing to answer me… and failing to distract me. Instead, he disappears into his office more days than not, only coming out for meals with Sidony and I, and to sleep fitfully in his armchair.

A few days after our big shopping trip in Covent Garden, my new wardrobe arrives at Wesley Hall as an endlessly refreshing pile of brown packages. I let Sidony help me open every one, like Christmas has come a few weeks early. Then I celebrate by wearing my new warm and soft pajamas the entire day. I expect Achilles to make some comment about how he’s provided me with these clothes, and I should show my gratitude by shutting the hell up… but he doesn’t.

No- that’s for the best, really. The less his attention is on me, the better.

Despite my situation as a captive imposter bride, the more days that pass without incident, the more I feel like this space is a balm instead of a torment. My thoughts have been getting way too confused. I was panicking over how deeply I’d become entrenched in this house, over Achilles and how far I’ve gone with him. I’d forgotten my true purpose here- to get as much information about these London Warwicks as possible, and then get out. This is a long game I’m playing, longer than even my stint as Silver, and anything I have to do to keep the peace will be worth it.

My best course of action, now that Achilles isn’t dictating my schedule, would be to start looking around the house for information again. Fantasia’s generals lumber around without discipline or purpose, but they’re easy to avoid if I stay on my toes and I’m alone.

Sidony, to my surprise, has other plans.

After breakfast, the day after my wardrobe comes in, Sidony parks herself beside my chair at the table and looks up at me, her eyes huge with longing.

“Will you play with me today, Raleigh?”

How can I say no?

I expect we’ll play pretend for an hour or so before Sidony gets bored of me, but I should have known better. The day goes by in a flash as I read her the storybooks I find in her room and she introduces me to all her plushies. There’s her rabbit named Misty, who guides her swiftly to sleep. Her elephant, Berry, with a goofy stitched face that always makes her smile. Carmen the whale, a plush almost bigger than her. Sidony tells me with total sincerity that Carmen is her mother reincarnated. And, of course, Lilac the penguin, her last line of defense against the ‘scary men’ that appear too often in her dreams.

I find myself wishing I had such companions as a child. If I had a cute little penguin to hold while dad drunkenly ranted to himself outside my room, would I have felt less afraid? Would I have slept better, even though I knew dad might wake me up just to hit me?

On second thought, no. Probably not.

The fact that Sidony, a lonely and terrified child, can still find comfort in her own imagination is a testament to Achilles’s nurturing. She has the unshakable knowledge that even though the things around her are frightening, her father is capable of protecting her.

One day of playing and talking turns into two, then three. Before I know it, Sidony has built a new routine for me around her own, and I find myself helpless to resist her.

Four times a week, Sidony has morning lessons with her tutor, Mrs. Barlow, a matronly old woman I like immediately. She lets me join in with them, and if the weather’s not too rainy, we’ll sit outside by the duck pond while Sidony practices her letters and counts as high as she can.

While I notice that, despite Achilles’s reassurances, Fantasia’s generals don’t seem to be leaving the house like they should, they also don’t bother us again. Eventually, I stop watching them out of the corner of my eye during the few moments I’ve seen them patrolling the grounds at the same time we’re outside. Nevertheless, I don’t forget they’re there.

Now that I’m dressed for it, I can appreciate the cold English air. The way it makes my lungs feel like they can fully expand for the first time in my life. After the lesson is complete, the three of us retreat into the kitchen for some hot tea and scones. By that point it’s time for Sidony’s nap, which Achilles will usually appear to collect her for.

At the sight of him, my buoyant morning mood inevitably takes a turn. If he catches my eye, then all I can see is his face after I kissed him. If he ignores my gaze, I’m left feeling completely unmoored. I need to be grateful for this emotional distance. Embrace it, like Achilles seems to.

Well, it’s a work in progress.

Another week passes. On a morning free of lessons, Sidony begs for us to go outside and wait under the dark grey clouds to see if it’ll snow. She’s exuberant today, but won’t say why until we’re bundled into our coats and sitting on a bench on the back terrace.

“Raleigh, you know what daddy’s gotten me for Christmas, don’t you? Can you tell me a hint? Pleeeeeeease?”

Ah, so that’s what this is about. I’m sorry to disappoint her, but I have no idea what Achilles has bought her. If he’s gone shopping at all, it certainly hasn’t involved me. Otherwise I’d be more than happy to come up with a riddle she can think on, or a tantalizing clue she’ll never guess.

But also, Christmas . Now that I think about it, we’re days away from it. I’ve never had a Christmas to celebrate before, never got to wake up in the morning and run into the living room to see a gorgeous tree with presents nesting beneath it. Growing up, I wondered if that happened for anyone, or if it was just a pretty lie the TV told.

From Sidony’s excitement, I know for sure that Santa very much exists, at least to her. And I can only imagine that Achilles showers her with dozens of presents every year, just because he can.

Once again, the contrast between him and my dad puts a spike in my chest. No matter what my own situation or complex feelings toward him, I can’t despise Achilles. Everything he does, he does for the safety of his daughter, and that can only make me respect and admire him.

It’s the concessions he makes to others that cause me trouble.

Sidony is waiting very patiently for my inside information on her presents, and I don’t want to admit that I have none. Instead, I pinch both of her cheeks until she giggles.

“So cute !” I declare. And luckily, this praise throws her right off the scent.

“Daddy says I look like mum,” she says proudly. “I don’t remember though.”

“You don’t remember her?” I ask. I feel like this is a safe question for her, because Sidony has never shown much sorrow over the loss of her mother. Then again, it sounds like it happened three years ago. If Sidony was only a year old when it happened, and worse things have happened since, I can’t imagine her mother’s memory would stick.

Sidony shakes her head. “I was too little. Daddy wouldn’t let me see her when she was sick. He said mum was fighting hard to protect me.”

My heart aches at that. Being sick to the point of death and not wanting to expose your child, either to the disease or to a version of you that might frighten them, has to be its own form of torture. I admire Sidony’s mother for that resolve.

“I know daddy misses her,” Sidony says, “but I’m glad she didn’t have to see the scary men.”

Only a person who has no true understanding of death could say such a thing. I don’t hold it against her, only feel even sadder that a child could be glad her mother was dead before she could experience another horror.

This question I have to ask with more care. The scary men are Sidony’s most consistent boogeymen. Being reminded of them too vividly might shut her down for the rest of the day, and make it harder to sleep later. Still, I’ve heard so many hints about their existence. I want to know more.

“Your daddy saved you from the scary men, right?” I ask, reminding her right off the bat that she’s safe now, that Achilles already vanquished her worst demons.

Sidony nods. “They… they ran into my room. Daddy showed up just in time, and BOOM BOOM BOOM . He saved me.”

Boom boom boom , huh? I shiver at how close this little girl almost came to disaster, and sorry for what she had to witness. “Do you know where they came from?” I ask.

Sidony shivers herself. I pull her up into my lap, and she obediently curls up against my shoulder, the cold puffs of her breath mixing with mine. “There was lots of shouting,” she says. “Lots of guns. Daddy said the scary men didn’t like that we were in their house anymore, and wanted us out, but Auntie Tasia wouldn’t let them kick us out.”

Interesting. Who didn’t want who in their house anymore? I thought the house belonged to Fantasia, as the heir to the Warwick family? Was it Sidony and Achilles they had a problem with? Why? It almost sounds like a fight over territory, but if it was happening inside Wesley Hall, well… that sounds more like some kind of coup.

I open my mouth to ask more, but three men have just come out of the house and onto the terrace.

When they notice us on the bench, they exchange smiles.

I don’t recognize the brutes that harassed Sidony and I before, but I do remember these men from my horrifying wedding banquet. They’re also Fantasia’s generals, and for some reason, they’ve decided to notice us today.

Time for us to go.

“I’m feeling chilly,” I tell Sidony. “Let’s get some tea.”

Sidony nods quickly, but hops off my lap before I can stop her. When she spots the men, she freezes instantly, like a deer in headlights. I step in front of her before they reach us, my heart kicking against my ribs. Too late. I’m going to have to deter them if I can.

If I were dressed as my street persona, Silver, I might still be shorter than them, but I’d walk like I were three feet taller. They’d see nothing but my hood and my masked face, and feel my authority. I might get away with threatening them, or at least unnerve them with my unknowability.

Unfortunately, I’m not Silver right now. I’m dressed in a jewel green peacoat, a knit scarf, and brown suede boots. These men each outweigh me by a hundred pounds at least.

And they know me as a prisoner bride, a woman who is here to be used for the sake of an agenda and nothing more. I’m not the lady of the house- I’m not even a lady of the house- and in their minds, that means they don’t owe me an ounce of respect.

If I try to tell them off, they’d sooner strike me than listen, and it wouldn’t matter that I’m standing in front of a terrified four-year-old. Achilles may have given other men a brutal warning already, but that doesn’t help me now.

Achilles isn’t here.

“What’re you doing out of your cage, then, love?” one man asks, stepping in front of his companions. “Achilles is slacking.”

“Come inside with us,” the one on his left adds with a grin. “Bit nippy out here, eh? We’ll warm you right up.”

I swallow and make sure to project my voice. Perhaps someone friendlier will be passing by and stop to help, though I don’t have much hope. “No thank you. We were already heading into the kitchen. Achilles is expecting us there.”

The guy’s face twists in annoyance. “Did you just tell me no?” he growls. “Check out the balls on this bitch.”

“Seems like you’ve forgotten your fuckin’ place here, have ya?” the first man sneers. “Achilles is a good guy, but his heart’s too soft with women after his kicked it. You’re not here to be pampered. You’re a hostage, love. We should be roughing you up a bit and sending pictures to your brother.”

“Come on, babe,” the one on the right says, stepping forward right into my space. I can smell his too-strong cologne, and the onions on his breath. “Leave the kid here so we can have some quality time. You’ll like it better with us.”

God, every word makes me sicker, but it’s worse in every way that they’re saying this shit in front of a four year old. I wish I could put my hands over her ears, but I can’t turn my back to these monsters.

“I need to get Sidony inside,” I tell them firmly. “Like you said, it’s cold out he-”

The crack of a hand across my face almost knocks me down. I catch myself on the back of the bench, just barely avoiding falling on Sidony. She’s clinging to my legs, trembling so hard I’m afraid she’ll come apart.

“That’s the last time you get to say no to me, cunt-”

The first man suddenly flies forward, slamming against the back of the bench beside me. His companions stumble back, their eyes wide with shock.

Achilles stands in their midst, gun held like a club in his hand, the promise of murder in his eyes.