Protect & Serve(82)

“Never!” he barked. “I’ll make sure it’s all burned before you ever touch it!”

“Then I will be a duke of ashes and dust,” I said, “but a duke none the less. And your new child will not even be that.”

“It’ll never work,” he hissed. “You aren’t enough of a man to keep yourself from a life of sin. You’ve always been a failure, and you’ll remain one. You’ll see.”

“I think you’re wrong father,” I said, making a point to sigh loudly. “I have a whole list of women who are prepared to become the next Mrs. Tristan Wolfe, and I really must be getting back to sorting through them all.”

“How are you doing this so quickly?” he asked after a long and tense silence, suspicion heavy in his voice. “You’ve hardly the connections to find a woman of standing; you must have someone helping you find these women.”

I couldn’t help but laugh as my father desperately pumped me for answers. He knew that the game was on, and he wanted to know all the players before he made his move.

“Gwendolyn is helping me find a suitable wife. That is her job, after all.”

I heard him curse from the other end of the line and couldn’t help but smile. I so enjoyed getting under his skin. He didn’t approve of my stepsister’s business, but since she’d never used a single pence of his money, he could kindly shove it up his ass. He’d never imagined that his children would both rise against him at once. He could threaten me all he liked with disownment, but when it came to Gwen he had no power.

“It doesn’t matter how much help you have, Tristan. No one is going to have you as their husband, even for all the money and status in the world. You have no follow-through. You’re unreliable, and you’re never going to change.”

With that he hung up, leaving me staring out the cab window with only my thoughts for company. Maybe he was right, maybe I was the kind of man who couldn't keep to the promises or the commitments he made. Or maybe I was the man who knew that he had the power to change all of that.





11





Chapter 11





I couldn’t believe how much of a prick he was.

It was one thing to be a smarmy asshole, but to suggest that I would simply sit by, content to be his mistress, of all things! Even the thought of it had my blood boiling in my veins. I wanted to say that I hated him, wanted to curse his name with every breath I took as I burnt any picture I could find after I’d crossed out his face.

“How dare he?” I said to my mirror as I readied myself for the day ahead. I was so angry—so enraged that I could hardly think of anything else besides the way I wished I could make him pay for treating me like I could be relegated to the position of his “mistress” for the convenience of his need for some title.

But the more I wanted to hate him, the more I so wanted to feel his touch once again. And I was more than a little conflicted on the matter of how to handle my stepbrother, especially where our business arrangement was concerned.

I had half a mind to call the whole thing off, leaving him to find a wife by his own means and leave his bad habit of playing my heart like a harpsichord far away from me and the life I’d built for myself. How could he be so unconcerned with how all of this affected me? I wasn’t the natural born daughter of a lord, I had been born common and fought my way to the place that I was at. Just one scandal was all it would take to bring my entire life crumbling to its knees.

After I was dressed I made my way down to the car waiting for me just outside, trying to keep my expression neutral as I took my seat and closed the door behind me.

“Good morning, Miss,” Franklin said, smiling at me from the rear view mirror. “I trust you slept well?”

“Well enough, I suppose,” I sighed, rubbing the bridge of my nose. I was not by any means a morning person, and after the utter foolishness involving Tristan, I was not feeling up to dealing with any of my clients today.

“Something troubling you?” Franklin asked, his brow creasing with concern as he pulled into the flow of traffic.

“Romantic entanglements,” I said, trying to keep things as vague as I could for his own benefit and mine. Franklin didn’t need to be privy to my sordid dealings, much less these flights of quasi-incestuous desire I had been prone to since Tristan spirited himself back into my life.

“Something I know you’re more than accomplished at handling, Miss Gwendolyn,” he said.

“It’s much different when you’re dealing with your own problems,” I said, leaning back in the chair.

“I imagine that you’re right, of course,” Franklin conceded dutifully.