Brutal Prince (Brutal Birthright)

Now, in an instant, I go from standing behind the Japanese maples to grabbing Oliver Castle around the throat, squeezing as hard as I can with my left hand. Meanwhile, my right fist is smashing into his face over and over again. I hear this insane roaring sound and I realize it’s me, I’m the one howling with rage while I hit the man who put his hands on my wife. I even start picking him up like I’m going to throw him over the fucking railing.

I might actually have done it if my father, Aida, and several other people didn’t grab my arms and pull me off of Castle.

Castle’s face is a mess of blood, his lip split, and his dress shirt splattered. So is mine, now that I look down at it.

The party has come to a screeching halt. Everybody inside and outside is staring at us.

“Call security,” my father barks. “This man tried to attack Mrs. Griffin.”

“The fuck I did,” Oliver snarls. “He—”

My father silences him with another blow to the face. Fergus Griffin hasn’t lost his touch—Castle’s head snaps back and he slumps to the patio floor. Two security guards hustle out onto the deck to pick him up.

“Leave. Now,” my father hisses at me under his breath.

“I’m going to take my wife home,” I say, loud enough for everyone to hear. I take my jacket off, wrapping it around Aida’s shoulders like she’s just had a shock.

Aida allows this because she is shocked. Shocked by how I attacked Oliver Castle like a rabid dog.

With my arm around

her shoulders, we push through the crowd, taking the elevator back down to the ground floor.

I hustle her into the waiting limo.

15

Aida

As soon as we’re in the limo, Callum barks, “Drive,” and raises the partition so we’re alone in the back, cut off from the chauffeur.

His hands are covered in blood, the same with his white dress shirt. He’s even got blood on his face, and his hair is disarrayed, coming down over his forehead. His eyes look wild, the pupils very black against the pale blue. A black ring encircles the blue iris, which makes him look like a bird of prey when he stares at me, like he’s doing right now.

I can see the muscles of his jaw twitching and the tendons standing out on his neck.

“Are you insane!” I shout, as the limo pulls away from the curb.

I shake off Callum’s jacket, annoyed that I let him put it around my shoulders like I was some kind of victim.

“That greasy fuck put his hands on you,” Callum says.

There’s an edge to his voice. I’ve heard him angry before. But not on this level. His blood-spattered hands are shaking. I saw him try to pick up Oliver and hurl him over the railing. He was going to do it. He was going to kill him.

I might have underestimated Callum Griffin.

“I could have handled it myself,” I snap. “He was just drunk. I could have gotten away from him without making a scene.”

“He was trying to seduce you, right in front of me,” Callum snarls.

“You were spying on me!”

“You’re damn right I was. You’re my wife. You have no secrets from me.”

I scoff.

“That only goes one way though, doesn’t it? You’re off all day long having secret meetings and appointments. Holed up in Daddy’s office making plans.”

“I’m working,” Callum says through stiff lips.