Roman

"You're late."

I froze at the doorway to the dining room of my father's large mansion, where my father was seated with Abel to his right. Abel sneered at me from his seat, the one that should have been mine. A few of my father's men stood around at various points of the room, guarding him.

"Sorry, Father." I strode to the empty seat on my father's left, ignoring the look he and Abel were trading. The table was laid with various plates of pasta, steamed greens glossy with melted butter, and a leg of lamb in a baking tray sitting in a thick, rich tomato and olive sauce.

"Where have you been?" my father asked.

For a second I wondered if he knew.

I shrugged as I began to fill my plate, even though I was anything but hungry. "Out."

"Out where?"

I tried not to flinch. My father never questioned where I was. Why now?

"Just…out. Riding around. Clearing my head."

"I did not give you permission to leave the mansion."

I speared an olive on my fork. "I didn't think I needed it." My father had forbidden me to leave earlier. I had to dodge the security cameras, then climb over the wall to get out.

Bang!

My father's fist slammed down on the table, making everything vibrate. "You will look at me when I'm talking to you."

I put down my fork deliberately, swallowed my olive and lifted my eyes. His black eyes glittered with fury. Was he angry because I disobeyed his orders? Or did he know I had sought out his enemy? Did he know I was plotting the downfall of his empire?

If he knew, he'd kill me. No, he would torture me, make me hurt for days before he got bored and finally killed me.

Don't flinch, Roman. Act like you've done nothing wrong.

My father leaned in towards me. "You dare disobey me again and I won't think twice but to punish you."

Let it go, Roman. Just nod like a good boy and keep your mouth shut.

I couldn't let it go. "I'm a Tyrell," I said. "I do what I want. Isn't that what you're always telling me?"

I could feel more than hear the collective holding of breath of the men around the room. Abel hissed under his breath at my insolence. My father glared back at me. The tension twisted between us. Father. Son. The student now becoming the master. The power struggle clear. This had been the first time I'd ever talked back to him and he knew it. I wondered if anyone had ever spoken back to him and lived. I was no longer a boy. I was no longer listening to his word as gospel and "yes, Father," "no, Father" was no longer part of my vocabulary. His usual methods of demand and obey were no longer going to work on me. I could see the slight flash of fear in his eyes. I was no longer his son, a man beneath him, but a man reaching for his own power. An equal. Someone who could easily take his place. Someone to be feared.

I could see the flash of indignation in being spoken back to in front of his men. He wanted to punish me. But I was his only heir and he needed me.

The tension in the room was thick, suffocating. I matched his stare, daring him to do his worst. Go on, Father, I egged him on with my smirk, do your worst. Challenge me. I'm ready. I'm not afraid of you anymore. We'll see who comes out on top.

My father's lip twitched. He broke out into laughter, breaking the tension. He leaned back into his chair and clasped my shoulder. "Finally, you're getting it through your thick skull. Yes, you are a Tyrell. You do what you want, when you want to do it. Let any man here dare to get in your way." He wiped the small beads of sweat off his brow. Across his forehead I could see the fingers of his right hand shaking.

* * *

After dinner,I waved off the glasses of cognac that were being passed around and made my excuses. I left the dining room and headed down the corridor to my room, my leather shoes sinking into the plush carpet, my head spinning. A hand grabbed me roughly on my shoulder.

I spun, my body tensing. Abel was glaring at me, the dining room door shut behind him, leaving the two of us alone. Had my father sent him?

I shoved his hand off my jacket. "Touch me again, dog, and I'll make sure you never use that hand."

Abel sneered at me. "You talk a good game. But I think you're full of shit."

"You want to test me on that?" I stepped closer to him, glaring down at him, using my extra two inches to my advantage. He didn't even flinch.

"I think," he said slowly, an excitement glittering in his eyes, "that you're getting too close to people that you shouldn't."

I stiffened, trying not to reveal the flash of panic that went through me. If Abel had any inkling of where I'd been… If he knew I'd been about to run away with Julianna…

If he had proof, then I'd be dead. I shrugged and turned to leave, dismissing him with a scoff. "I don't answer to you."

"Your father's getting suspicious too."

I snorted. "If my father had suspicions, then he'd be the one up in my face." I turned to face him again, my arms crossed over my chest. "You just hate that I'm his son and that I'll be your boss one day."

"You don't deserve it," Abel said with a snarl.

"Careful," I said, "your bitterness is showing."

"Maybe. But you'll fuck up soon enough. Just remember," he smiled, "I'm watching."