Twins for the Mafia Heir (The Warwicks #3)

25. Achilles

Chapter 25

Achilles

A s happy as I would be to never go back to Wesley Hall again, I do need to come to an official agreement with Fantasia and arrange for the removal of my and my family’s possessions. I wake up before the sun rises feeling like I haven’t rested so well in years… with Raleigh sleeping deeply at my side.

At some point during the night she got dressed again, which makes sense since we forgot to get the fireplace going and the room is freezing now. I pull on some clothes for myself and light a fire under the logs so she’ll be a little warmer by the time she wakes. Hopefully, I’ll be back by then, but with how much Fantasia tends to rant, I can’t be sure.

Downstairs I beg a small cup of espresso from the head cook, who is all too happy to oblige. As soon as she realizes I’m leaving on an errand, she also refuses to let me leave the kitchen until I’ve choked down some poached eggs, ham, and avocado on toast. Thus prepared, I call the limo around and leave my sanctuary.

Wesley Hall looks more dilapidated than I remember it when I pull in through the gates, like it’s aged centuries in the ten hours I’ve been gone. I break my own tradition of slipping in like a ghost through the kitchen. I’ve put distance between myself and this place, and I will maintain it from now on. Entering through the front doors also adds some gravitas to my visit that I hope will get Fantasia’s attention.

I find her in the usual place, the drawing room. The curtains on the windows have been left closed today, giving the room a dingy, abandoned feeling. The fire in the hearth is far too low, barely more than embers. It provides no warmth, and hardly any light, but I can still make out Fantasia’s curled up shadow in her favorite armchair. She doesn’t shift when I enter the room. Did she sleep in here last night?

Was she waiting for me to come and find her?

I ignore the way that makes my heart squeeze and go to the windows, throwing them open to let in the watery morning light. I hear Fantasia shift behind me.

“Achilles?”

Her voice is thick with sleep, and when I turn, I see eyes framed by deep circles. She sleeps just as badly in this house as I do- did . I almost forget my resolve, almost hold out my hand and offer to take her back to the Ashwood House with me. If she left this place behind, if we let it sit here and rot, would she finally heal?

I don’t know. And unless I dragged Fantasia out of this place kicking and screaming, I doubt she’d ever leave it.

“Did you only come back for that package that was dropped off?” she croaks.

A package? I go back through the orders I’ve placed- and realize it could only be the wedding bands I had resized by the jeweler weeks ago.

I’d completely forgotten about them, with all the frustration and danger of the last few weeks.

It’s only then that I notice the bottle knocked over on the floor in front of her chair, no accompanying glass in sight. Whatever was in it, it’s empty now.

I sigh heavily and go to pick up the bottle. “I came back to speak with you, Fantasia. I never said I wouldn’t.” Leaning closer, I smell the alcohol on her breath. “Come, you shouldn’t be sleeping out here, it’s freezing. Take a shower, get some food, and we’ll talk.”

I’m taken back to when Fantasia was Sidony’s age, and I had to soothe her through tantrums and dump her into the bath myself. Fantasia can get herself in and out of a shower on her own now, but she’s just as reluctant to do what’s best for her when she’s feeling her lowest. I wait for her in the sitting room of her suite, nursing a blessed second espresso. The staff brought up a tray of breakfast things which I’ll force Fantasia to eat if I have to.

When she finally emerges from the washroom, my sister looks pale but fully awake. She’s dressed in an old gown of our mother’s that I haven’t seen in years, a black slip that would be far too cold for the weather if she weren’t wearing a thick bathrobe over it. She slumps into the chair across the coffee table from me, eyes the breakfast tray dispassionately, but does start nibbling on a little jam tart.

“I wanted to have a proper conversation about what happened yesterday,” I say- and Fantasia immediately stands and makes as if to walk off. “Fantasia, you are not avoiding this-”

She goes to her nightstand, where half folded and slightly crumpled papers lie. She collects them and comes back to the table, a glint in her eyes that I don’t like.

“If you hadn’t rushed off yesterday, you would have-”

“Do not test me, Fantasia,” I snap. “Yesterday wasn’t a tantrum. I killed three men because they threatened my family.”

Speaking of which, I’m a little concerned that Fantasia doesn’t seem particularly angry about that. Either with me or with the men whose stupidity cost them their lives and made her look bad.

She’s not upset about why I left. Just that I did.

Fantasia drops a half folded letter on the table between us. I take it, irritation flaring, and glance over the crisp stationary and neat, boxy handwriting. “Thomas… finally wrote back?”

Settling back into her armchair, Fantasia eyes me smugly. “He’s making vague promises to pay the tithe, but he’s stalling.”

I confirm this at the bottom of the page. Thomas wants his sister returned to him first, married or no, and only once that’s done will he pay what is owed. This is an obvious play, and I would’ve expected better. As soon as his sister is returned, naturally, he has no reason to follow through on his word. And as of yesterday, Raleigh will have a wealth of information she can share with her brother.

How did I forget that Raleigh might… have to go back someday?

My immediate distaste for the proposition is unhelpful, and I do my best to shove it aside.

I reread the letter once more, searching for any additional information I can parse- and doing my own stalling. Thomas is strangely emotionless when he gives his demands for Raleigh to be returned. Is he making a show of strength or just trying to remain professional? Is he less concerned with his sister’s safety than he is losing face?

Fantasia’s eyes are practically boring into my forehead, so finally I look up again. “What are you planning?” I ask suspiciously.

“He wants to stall, so I’ll let him,” she says. “But only for the next week. Raleigh isn’t being returned to him. Not alive, anyway.”

My stomach tightens at that insinuation. “What are you planning, Fantasia?” I bite out again.

“If Thomas doesn’t pay me what I’m owed by the end of the week, you’ll kill her and send her head back to him in a box.”

Every word out of her mouth is worse than the last one. “I’m not doing that,” I say flatly.

Fantasia blinks at me. “Oh come now, Achilles. You said it yourself, you killed three men yesterday. Are you refusing because she’s a woman?”

“I’m refusing,” I say, incredulous, “because if you wanted to keep murdering her as an option, you shouldn’t have forced me to make her my wife .”

Fantasia looks genuinely confused by this logic. “You didn’t even want to marry her,” she says.

I can’t believe I’m hearing this. “But I did , Fantasia! I’m not going to- The whole point of marrying her was to have a legal claim on her money. You’d give that up just to sleight Thomas for making you wait? He doesn’t even have to pay our tithe anymore. You realize that, don’t you? We already solved that problem! He’s stalling, yes, but has he stopped Raleigh from being able to access her own money? All we do now is convince Raleigh to start funneling her money to us. Killing her would not only lose us any leverage we have, but it would lose us our only legal connection to these people in the first place!”

Her obsession with being validated by everyone around her is going to be the death of Fantasia, I’m sure of it. She wants Thomas to acknowledge her power over him, and she’d shoot herself in the foot to make it happen.

No- she’ll get me to shoot Raleigh to make it happen.

Except she won’t. Because I refuse to entertain this barbaric insanity. I try to ignore the guilt I feel at demanding that Raleigh give her money up for the sake of a woman who’s responsible for her ongoing capture, but she wouldn’t need to worry for a single one of her needs. She’s my wife, and I won’t hesitate to provide for her.

“But whose money would that be, Achilles?” Fantasia demands. “Mine? Or yours?”

The accusation in those questions stops me cold. “Excuse me?”

“You know what I’m talking about,” she spits. “Grandpa locked me out of the inheritance with enough red tape to wrap an elephant. Why should I believe you’ll give this up to me now? Especially now that you’ve decided to completely betray me?!”

Her voice is rising into the realm of a screech. I can’t believe how quickly I forgot her volatility, the cruelty she learned from our mother that I failed to cleanse her of. She stands, but so do I, and my greater height lets me loom over her.

“I don’t want Raleigh’s money, Fantasia,” I growl. “I never did. How much do I have to give you before you realize that-” I shake my head. No, I gave up my birthright to her so she could fulfill what she believed was her destiny. I gave up my comfortable home to be her trustworthy henchman. I’d give up my fortune too if she weren’t so neatly excised from our grandfather’s will.

If she hasn’t realized by now all that I’ve sacrificed for her, then she never will. I’m the one refusing to learn that lesson now.

“Fine,” Fantasia suddenly snaps. “ Fine . You don’t have to kill her. It was stupid of me to tell you to, considering you’ve stopped caring about what I want.” I open my mouth to shout that down, but she goes on. “I’ll kill her myself. Return her to my custody- I’ll have the marriage license torn up and thrown in the Thames if you like- and I’ll do what needs to be done if it comes down to-”

“ No !”

Fantasia flinches, shrinking before my eyes at the thunder in my voice. I’m trembling with rage, my fists so tight my nails are punching into my flesh. I point one finger at her.

“Listen to me, Fantasia,” I snarl. “No matter what you think, I have not betrayed you. But if you try to take Raleigh from me, there will be war between us. Do you understand me?”

My sister’s face has lost all color. She nods, silent and shaking.

“Do. You. Understand?”

“Yes,” she gasps. “I understand.”

“Good.” I step around her coffee table and head toward the door. “I’ll be moving our things out of Wesley Hall over the next few days. If you need anything, call-”

“Achilles!”

I turn at the desperation and terror in Fantasia’s voice. Her hands are clutched in front of her, like she’s in the middle of a prayer.

“Please don’t leave me,” she begs. “Please, Achilles. I need you.”

I keep my jaw set firmly. “Don’t cross that line, Fantasia, and I won’t have to.”