Beautiful Nightmare (Dark Dream 2)

Her lips rolled under and pressed tight, a vault locked tight. I didn’t need her confirmation. It was obvious she’d known and disapproved. Had she destroyed dad’s will and he’d made provisions in hiding the extra one for me? Or had he simply written mine as a provision to the first, hoping to keep us from Caroline’s infamous fury?

In any case, I doubted I would ever get the answers and now, it didn’t really matter.

“I’m not going to a nunnery, Caroline. Quite the opposite actually. I’m going back to Lion Court and Tiernan Morelli.” I looked at her with pity and watched as it seemed to douse her with cold water, making her bristle even further. “As for the issue of my guardianship, those papers you signed? They weren’t the same ones you had drawn up. After I found Lane’s will today, I stopped by Lombardi & Ghorbani law offices and had them draw up an agreement of my own.” I paused for dramatic effect because I wanted to relish catching Caroline at her own game. “You signed an agreement to give Colombe Energy Investments with a very generous ten-million-dollar endowment in memory of Lane Constantine.”

Just as quickly as the color drained from Caroline’s porcelain skin it returned, vermillion red sweeping her features. When she spoke, her entire body seemed to vibrate with the strain of containing her fury.

“That will never hold up in court, you thieving cunt.”

I shrugged, but my heart trilled like an alarm in my chest, urging me to get the hell out of the Compound and away from the scorned woman before me. “Actually, I think it will. You see Emelie and Beckett Fairchild were witnesses to your signature. I think if you ask them, they’d be willing to swear an oath in court to that affect. Really, Caroline, you should be kinder to your family members, resentment can fester for years.”

For one single second, Caroline seemed utterly bewildered, her eyes scouring my face as if searching for clues. How could innocent and naïve little Bianca Belcante from backwater, Texas have duped her so horribly?

I grinned because for once in my life, I felt the headiness of being the one in control. It was made all the better by the fact that it was Caroline’s own pride that had been her downfall. If she’d ever given me an ounce of respect, she wouldn’t have fallen prey to the lion in the guise of a lamb.

Of course, as my own pride surged through my blood like an aphrodisiac, my ruin followed swiftly in its path.

Because Caroline Constantine didn’t know how to lose gracefully, she’d never had to before.

Caroline Constantine only knew how to fight.

I gasped as she lunged forward and clutched a swathe of my hair in a tight fist. As I tried to pry her off me, her grip tightened and she started to pull me by the hair up the stairs. A scream tore through me as her other hand tangled in my locks and used them like reins to manoeuvre me off my feet. I feel with a brutal crash to the edge of the marble stairs, the pain punching the air from my lungs.

Still, I tried to scream, breathless. Tears streamed down my cheeks as she hauled me up the stairs one at a time. I could feel my hair tearing out at the roots, hot blood seeping over my scalp. Her own hair was dishevelled, white silk skin splotched with the red of her exertion.

Just as I successfully tore one hand free from my hair, Caroline stepped back, angled herself and swung one Manolo Blahnik pump straight at my temple.

Stars exploded like a super nova in head and a moment later, I passed out.

18

TIERNAN

She was late.

The sun had set over an hour ago and still, Bianca was missing from Lion Court.

It took everything in me to play calm while The Gentlemen and I baked my grandmother Zelda’s diablo cookies and gingerbread men with Brando all afternoon waiting for Bianca to arrive, but the moment the sun set, I started going out of my skin with frustration and fear.

Where the fuck was she?

“I spoke to her this morning, T,” Henrik murmured as we finished icing the last of the cookies. Brando didn’t want just ordinary gingerbread men, so Walcott had ordered a set of superhero themed cookie cutters. Henrik was putting the last touches on a vivid green Hulk cookie, his thick fingers deftly and delicately decorating the hero’s face. “She’s fine.”

“You spoke to her this morning?” I asked, almost ready to bite my friend’s head off. “Why did she call?”

“She needed help opening a door.”

“A locked door, I presume. What the fuck was she getting into? You don’t think it’s a bad fucking sign that we haven’t heard from her since then? She should have been here an hour ago,” I muttered under my breath, careful to keep the decibel low so Brando wouldn’t hear me at the other end of the island where he sat on the counter babbling happily to Walcott and Ezra.