Wild Heir (Fated Royals 4)

Once I’d checked on my Vela, I crossed past the old stone lions that my mother had bought when I was a barely ten years old. Snow covered, as usual, and with a chip in the ear of one from when Petre and I had been in one of our many rows and he’d thrown a rock. Missing me, but hitting the lion.

Being here always gave me the same mix of complicated fucking emotions. I’d grown to deeply dislike and disagree with our family business. But my childhood had been happy enough, I thought, until my mother got sick.

Once that happened, everything changed, including my brother. But the business had been lucrative enough to give my mother the best care, the best nursing, and the most comfortable life possible. Life in the Greengallow family was bittersweet, no matter how you cut it.

Walking into the main foyer, with its dark oak walls and rows of hunting trophies, I still felt like more of a visitor than someone who actually belonged. My brother had called me the prodigal son, and that was true enough.

A decade ago, my dad had given me the choice of joining him in business, or setting out on my own. I’d decided to do my own thing, and headed east to work with my mom’s brothers in importing gold and silver as well as running their own mines. It had been good, honest work and we raked in the money.

Now, though, I was back. I hadn’t known how long I planned to stay when I returned. My dad had been making noises about me joining the family business for a long time, but I’d always said no. I wanted to remain in our own country, but still had business interests back east.

But that was before I laid eyes on Valeria…and before my entire goddamned life changed, thanks to her.

Now that I had her, I wasn’t going to let her go. No matter what Petre said or did, she was mine. If that destroyed our family, if it made sworn enemies of my brother and I, then so fucking be it. Except, I knew it would also destroy my mother, and that was something I would try to avoid at all costs.

I knew one thing for certain, if I wanted to find any resolution that didn’t destroy our family, I’d be better off with my father on my side.* * *“Is that you, my boy?” my father called out, coming out from his office, looking hopeful, like a big old bear emerging from hibernation.

“Hello, father,” I said, extending my hand for him to shake.

“My boy,” he said, pulling me in for a big hug. “A handshake? Hugs are for family.” He thumped my back with his hand as he embraced me, and I did the same.

Though he was getting older, he was still just as big and strong as he’d ever been. A big lion of a man, my mother always said. And though I might be three inches taller and broader in the shoulders, he still made me feel like a little kid when he hugged me.

“Come in,” he said. “Just dotting some Is and crossing some Ts.” He pulled back from the bear hug with a conspiratorial wink. Looking past his shoulder, I saw two familiar faces, though they’d also changed a good deal since I’d seen them last. “You remember the Popescu brothers,” my father said.

Of course, I did. Total dickheads, the both of them. But now they were acting far less dickish than I remembered.

They actually made eye contact, for starters. The older one went to the trouble of standing up and shaking my hand. And then the younger one did, too.

Last I remember, these motherfuckers could hardly be trusted not to shiv a guy with his own goddamned knife. But here they were, sitting in chairs like civilized human beings, actually signing a contract—actually reading it.

Some things had most definitely changed since I left. I glanced at the paper on my father’s big, walnut desk. The words deed and quarry popped off the page at me.

Well, well, well. So the Popescues had finally agreed to sell. I wondered what my father had to do to get this to happen. Whatever it was, I knew it had been shrewd. My father knew how to walk that line between legitimacy and illegality in a way that my brother didn’t.

Petre was a monster of his own making—if not for his last name, he’d probably already be either in prison or dead. My father, on the other hand, was a decent guy in a dirty business, and he wasn’t afraid to get dirty too, if it benefited his family and legacy.

He made his way over to the two of them, carefully positioning himself between them so that they couldn’t glance at one another.