Page 22 of Weeping Roses

I turn and silence follows me out of the room as I flee to the kitchen, intent on only one thing. The largest shot of vodka I can possibly stand because I am fast realizing you require something a lot stronger than water to survive this conflicting man’s company.

CHAPTER 12

VALENTIN

If I’m thankful for anything, it’s that my father provided Polly’s aunt with a home big enough to accommodate my small army. There is a coach house that has three levels, containing four bedrooms and a staff annexe with two more. The main house has six bedrooms and as my men set about securing the premises by organized security watches, I head upstairs with Polly, who is extremely nervous.

I can almost touch it and her silence speaks way louder than her words.

We stop outside one of the rooms and I fix her with a firm gaze. “Get some sleep. You take this room and I’ll be in the one next door.”

“Okay.”

She turns and with one hand on the door handle, she says with a sigh. “Let’s hope you find what you’re looking for tomorrow and we can all get on with our lives.”

I say nothing and watch her enter the room and don’t miss the sound of a lock turning inside that makes me smile. She is right to be afraid of me. To take steps to protect herself because the more time I spend with Polly, the more I’m interested.

I make my way inside the room next door and sigh. I’m not used to sleeping in closets and this room is smaller than any I enjoy in the multitude of homes my family owns.

There are more patterns than I’m used to and the strange curtain arrangement behind the bed is unnecessary, in my opinion. Chintz fabric covers the walls and bed and the oil painting above the fireplace wouldn’t look out of place in a museum. Old dark wood antique furniture is polished but has definitely seen better days, and the patterned rug doesn’t even complement the patterned carpet that must have been here for years.

I regard the bed that is a third of the size I usually enjoy, and the door in the corner leads to an antiquated bathroom where the shower is set over a bathtub that I would struggle to fit inside.

I’m growing incredibly antsy about being here at all courtesy of my father’s secret that is hitting out hard from the grave.

With a reluctant sigh, I set about grabbing some sleep because I am definitely upping my game tomorrow in the hope of returning to normal life as soon as god-damned possible.

The bed sheets scratch beneath my naked body and I couldn’t sleep if I tried. The house creaks as if it has many secrets fighting to get out and I picture my father here. Did he sleep in this room—with her? My tortured thoughts keep me awake and I sigh heavily as I attempt to clear my mind.

I concentrate on what I learned today, which was absolutely zero. There is no mention at all of him in the various papers we went through and part of me wonders if the person here before us was successful.

I recall Polly’s instruction to her solicitor and a low growl of anger escapes when I realize he never got back to her with the information she requested. That would never happen to me. I ask, I get and in record time and I vow that first thing tomorrow we will be calling him and if he doesn’t have the information we seek, he will enjoy a personal visit from me instead.

I’m not sure if I slept at all, but a soft knock at the door takes my attention and as it gets louder I toss the sheets aside. I don’t cover up, why would I? I always sleep naked and if my men disturb me, they wouldn’t think anything of it.

As I wrench open the door, Polly’s face is aflame as she covers her eyes and emits a low, “Fuck, Valentin.”

“Is that a request, malyshka?”

I grin, loving her squeal of embarrassment as she hisses, “Of course not, it’s um, well, I heard a noise.”

I prise her fingers away from her eyes and say with amusement, “I see.”

She averts her eyes and hisses, “Please, can you well, put something on?”

“No.”

Before she can resist, I pull her sharply into the room and close the door, taking note of the strange bathrobe she is wearing. It has every color of the rainbow on it and is made from some kind of weird raised fabric and I chuckle. “What the fuck is that?”

“What?”

“That monstrosity you’re wearing.”

Despite her embarrassment, she giggles and blushes as she tries to look anywhere but at me.

“I didn’t pack for an overnight stay, so I borrowed this from the wardrobe. I agree, though, it is pretty hideous.”

I chuckle as I stare at her standing in the shadows, the moon’s rays filtering through a crack in the drapes.