Untamed (A Bad Boy Secret Baby Romance)(22)

Chapter Six





Duncan is coming home today.

I’ve just turned eighteen. It’s been two years since Thailand.

But even after so long, I feel this silly, childish excitement. I’m eager to meet him again, to talk to him again, even though I don’t know him at all. I’ve only ever met him once, and yet he’s been almost all that I can think about.

I’m also nervous beyond belief. I couldn’t decide what to wear, and in the end I settled for being comfortable. My favorite pair of dark jeans, a light-brown bomber jacket, and my favorite ankle boots.

I cast one last look in the mirror, and don’t like what I see. The ankle boots cut me off at the slimmest part of my legs, and I know I’m not model-thin so they just make me look short and chunky. But they’re my favorite boots, and I’m going to wear them.

Outside, it’s chilly. In Kenilworth, on the north shore of the lake, we get cold winds and the air is wetter. It makes me shiver. I sit outside in the back garden, look out at the huge plot of terraced land with its apple orchard at the back.

People at school always joke that I live in a mansion – I practically do. And all of them know where the money comes from. It’s mob money. It’s dirty money. It’s blood money.

I hate that the suffering of others gives me this luxury. I hate what Dad does, so I try never to indulge. I reject as much of the luxury as I can.

And yet, I still live here because I have to. Sometimes, I wonder why I force myself to pay a penance for Dad’s crimes.

From the back garden I can see the road, a winding, narrow path lined on either side by tall trees that squawk with birds.

I hear the limousine before I see it. Steam and exhaust wafts upward from behind green-brown hedges. My gut tightens, and my heart starts to beat quicker.

For the past two years, Dad has often spoken of Duncan’s harsh training. He was going to make Duncan the best fighter ever, he would tell me.

Sure, he’d start a little later than some of the other young men who got into fighting. He’d be a little older, but his body would be more mature. His mind would be readier.

That’s what Dad says. Duncan’s being incubated.

I spot the limousine making its way slowly around the lazy bends. The windows are tinted, but it’s not like I could see inside from this distance.

Standing up, I draw in breath, release it and it fogs in front of me. I straighten my jacket, check my back, and then wring my hands together. I watch the car trundle slowly around to the front, walk through the house to go and meet them.

The butterflies in my stomach are starting to flap their wings. The hurricane will hit me square in the gut.

Dad told me I had to meet them at the door. Dad told me I had to welcome my adoptive brother into our family.

But I am excited to see him, and I feel bad about that. Feel guilty about it. I shouldn’t… anticipate it so much.

After all, he’s my foster brother. He’s part of the family now.

But I want to see his eyes… those crystal eyes. So clear, so blue, and yet… there’s turmoil in them. Anger.

Maybe I’m projecting. Maybe I’ve just thought up this story in my head these past two years. Spun a narrative around him, built him up.

But I swear, when I saw him in Thailand, there was something behind those eyes.

I walk out of the front door, and watch as the limousine crunches gravel all the way up the driveway. It rounds the fountain out front, which has two cherubs with feathered wings squirting water out of their mouths.

The limousine engine stops, and black exhaust no longer belches out of the back. I hold my breath, wait for the door to open, but it doesn’t.

Frank steps out, waddles around the front of the car. He smiles at me, gives me a small wave, and I wave back, glad to see him.

He goes to the passenger side door, and opens it. Out steps Dad. He doesn’t even look at me. Instead, he turns around and continues talking into the car. I don’t know what he’s saying, and I don’t care. I’m eagerly trying to look past him, trying to glimpse Duncan.

I see a head of neatly trimmed dark hair. Then, from inside the car, I see those eyes. They seem to shine, reflect the waning sunlight. I’m taken aback. They’re sharper than ever, and again I’m reminded of a wolf’s eyes, and when he climbs out of the car, I gasp.

He’s grown… so much. He towers over Dad, and Dad is an even six-feet, and his shoulders are so broad he makes Dad look small. And I would never have described Dad as being small.

Duncan looks at me, and as I drag my eyes up his body to meet his again, I’m jolted, shocked by electricity. It’s a zap that forces me to instantly break eye-contact, look at a spot above his head instead, and I feel that hurricane acutely now.