Secret
1888 Words
Cronan’s POV
Crashing, the sound of things breaking.
When I got to the resort room, I half expected to find my father wrecking the place based on the sounds of destruction I was hearing but, when I opened the door, I found that it was Aurelia losing her ever loving mind.
She must’ve sensed me, her eyes snapping up to home in on me, hair tossed to the side, the beautiful dress she’d wrong tarnished by whatever bottle she’d just smashed on the floor that had splashed up and soaked her. A panting mess, she straightened, wiping at her dress, clearing her throat. Gesturing to the trashed room, I quirked a brow in question and she just waved her hand about dismissively, “Yes, well, whatever. I’ll pay for the damages.”
She thinks I give a s**t about the damages? “What are you doing?”
“Xavier Rosario,” she spat, her words fueled with nothing but venom.
“What?”
“He bought Emelie,” she hissed.
Emelie. “The slave?” I wondered, quirking a brow.
Something rippled through her, all of these emotions tearing through her expression, and then she took a seat, slumping down onto the bed. “I never told you,” she sighed.
“About what?”
She was laughing now. A sound of hysteria.
I’d only heard such an unsettling noise come out of my father before.
“Aurelia, what the f**k—”
“It’s a family secret,” she giggled, pressing her forefinger to her mouth in a play shush.
“Aurelia. Calm down.” A command now.
She sat upright looking almost possessed, her eyes flashing a deadly silver. “I’ll kill him.”
“Xavier?” She wanted to kill Xavier for purchasing a slave?
“My bastard father,” she growled. It was almost deep and when she went to storm out of the room, I caught her wrist. Not because I cared about Cortez’s life but because I knew Semerov was just looking for a reason to stir up trouble. She turned, teeth bared, and I saw all the savagery seem to leave her body as soon as she looked at me. When her knees gave out, I was still holding her wrist, staring down at a trembling, broken woman.
This wasn’t the Aurelia I know.
Nothing like her at all.
“I’m free,” she cried, her voice strangled. “I’m free now. I can leave.” Voice hoarse, trembling, she ripped her arm from my hand, breathing, “But it’s worse. It’s so much worse this way.”
“What are you going on about Aurelia?”
She sniffled, rising to her feet.
With an abrupt huff, she said, “I’m canceling the engagement,” ripping the ring from her hand and dropping it to the floor. Another laugh, broken, hoarse, and she almost drunkenly stumbled toward the door. “I never wanted that f*****g throne.” Stumbling out of her heels despite the broken glass strewn across the floor, she went on mindlessly, “I never wanted the Thanisius name.”
“Aurelia—”
“I played my part,” she hissed. “But I’m done. It’s pointless now.”
Reaching out, I caught her wrist. “What are you talking about, Aurelia?”
“My sister, you dolt!” she hissed. Confusion must’ve filled my expression because she shook her head, realizing that I had no idea what she was talking about. Giving a soft giggle, she whispered, “My secret.”
Tears poured out of her face.
I’d never seen Aurelia cry.
For all her drama, all her flair—she was always strong.
“It’s over, Cronan,” she said, pulling away form me. “I’m not reporting to the crown anymore. I won’t take the stand against you. My father has no leverage anymore.”
“Leverage?” I muttered, trying to piece this puzzle together.
Shaking her head, she muttered, “Doesn’t matter anymore. I’m out.”
Throwing up the peace sign of her shoulder, she left, leaving the door wide on her way out.
Confused, I realized what she’d just said.
Her . . . sister?
Aurelia doesn’t have a sister.
. . .
Xavier Rosario.
She’d been cursing his name, going on about the slave he’d bought.
When I went to his designated suite, I found Cortana outside of it, knocking, whining.
“I just want to talk,” she was insisting.
The door didn’t budge.
“You could just let me in,” she purred, leaning up against the door.
Semerov’s daughter definitely wasn’t here to “talk”.
When she saw me, she turned, her sultry look turning to a startled one. “Oh, uh, Cronan,” she said, bowing her head to me.
I wasn’t in the mood for pleasantries.
Brushing her aside, I knocked on the door. “Xavier.”
Waiting, there was nothing.
A King would address a King no matter the time.
With a sigh of irritation, I knew what that meant.
He’s not here. Already gone.
“I know he’s in there,” Cortana pouted. “He always ignores me.”
“Shocking,” I muttered, searching for some sign that I might be mistaken.
The welcome tab was still tucked in the door.
Xavier had never even bothered to enter the room.
Great.
“Why doesn’t he want me? I know he’s not courting anybody else,” she was whining on, sharing all of these unwanted woes with me.
“I don’t know him well,” was all I grumbled, turning my back to her.
“But maybe you can put in a good word?” she insisted, hopeful. “King to King, of course.”
This weasel of a woman. “We’re not friends,” I repeated, already headed downstairs, to my car.
In the last twenty four hours, I’d lost my bond, almost killed my father, and my Queen had run out of me. Chuckling, I raked my hand through my hair, wishing Zech hadn’t completely f****d me over.
There’s nobody else to talk to about this train wreck.
Nobody else to confide to.
Gritting my teeth, I hated that my first thought ran to Cliff Blackwell.
Getting into the car, I nearly threw it into gear but hesitated, thinking. Grabbing my phone, I decided there wasn’t much left to lose now, was there? Dialing a number I never thought I’d use, his voice was one of annoyance as he said, “Is there a reason you’re calling at this ungodly hour?”
Obviously he wasn’t sleeping. “Tell me about Emelie.”
There was a pause. “The house slave?”
“What is she to Aurelia?” I wondered, curious.
“Your Queen?” Xavier sounded intrigued now.
I had to tread lightly here. If he didn’t know he had some type of leverage, it was probably best not to tell him. “You bought Emelie from Cortez, right?”
“Yes. She’s proven useful.” He sounded nonchalant. Uninvested. “You’re calling me about a slave I bought at this time of night?”
It was bizarre but so was Aurelia’s behavior.
“Does the slave have a last name?” I wondered.
“Do slaves normally have a last name?” Xavier wondered.
He was hiding something.
I could feel it.
Drumming my fingers on the steering wheel, I wondered what it could be but knew better than to press it. Not with Xavier Rosario. Not when I could easily get it from a lesser being at a lower cost.
“Ah, it doesn’t matter.”
Xavier grunted. “If it didn’t matter—"
Quick on my feet, I changed the subject. “Cortana went by your room.”
There was silence.
“I suggest against getting involved with the Semerov clan.”
A chuckle. “Duly noted, friend.”
Friend. Narrowing my eyes, I muttered. “Enjoy your night, friend.”
“What’s left of it,” he grumbled, hanging up.
I sighed, turning onto the road leading to the beachfront bungalows. Cortez’s preference. Hitting the brakes, I pulled the keys, not missing a beat as I headed toward his room. I went to knock on the door until I heard the scream. Loud, hysterical sobbing.
Esmerelda.
Knocking loudly now, the screaming stopped and I could hear cussing.
Cortez.
I could sense him now.
“Open up.” A command.
Silence.
“Cortez.”
The door creaked open and I saw that he was a mess, in nothing but boxers, offering a toothy smile that was awkward considering the situation. “Ah, Cronan—”
Shoving the door open the rest of the way, I could see Aurelia's mother Esmerelda curled up on the floor, sobbing pitifully. His queen Wenefrid was seated on the bed, dress torn, head bowed.
“Excuse me—”
When I turned to him, my eyes flashed silver and he shut up.
“Your daughter has broken the engagement,” I informed him. Wenefrid glanced back at me and the expression on her face just screamed help. “Ladies, I apologize for the intrusion but I’m going to borrow Cortez for just a few moments.”
Cortez looked enraged but remained silent.
I could kill him.
I might kill him.
Gripping his shoulder, I dragged him from the mess he’d left inside, steering him out of the bungalow. Surrounded by beauty—a beautiful seascape, beautiful abode—and instead of seducing his woman, he chose instead to savagely beat her.
My grip on his throat must’ve tightened notably because he cleared his throat.
“How can I help—”
“Emelie.”
Cortez fell silent.
Shoving him away from myself, he stumbled a bit.
“You’ll tell me everything,” I said, shoving him toward my car.
“Emelie is a slave,” he gasped, desperate.
I shoved him again, pointedly. “You’ll tell me everything on the way to the airport.”
“Airport?” His voice was higher than normal. Nervous.
Narrowing my sights on him, I said, “Get in. Now.”
Cortez took one look at me and I wondered if he could feel my bloodlust. I wanted nothing more than to rip him apart, watch the life drain from his weasel eyes. Swallowing, he got into my car and once I took a seat, I remembered he was missing most of his clothing and made a face. Thank the Gods it’s just a rental. I wouldn’t want his disgusting boxers on my seats.
- Writer
