Chapter 12
12
J en
I sigh as I get into the vehicle, buckling up immediately. It doesn’t take long for Steel to settle in next to me, seeming to take up more than half of the back seat. Then we’re moving, making our way back to the palace.
That went better than expected. Although August was a little full of himself, he wasn’t a bad person. He tried hard to impress me, even if he went about it in the wrong way. Namely, things don’t interest me. His home is beautiful, but I would be just as comfortable in a smaller house. I don’t need staff to wait on me, or fancy cars.
“He seemed nice,” I say, trying to fill the silence.
Steel grunts.
“You don’t think he’s nice?”
The grunt didn’t sound positive.
Steel shrugs. “If you’re attracted to a male with his head stuck up his own ass, then you should pick Count Augustine, for sure.”
I laugh. “You’re right; he was a little conceited.”
“He’s boring and would love himself more than he would ever love you…but if you’re—”
“This isn’t about love.” I feel a stab in my heart.
Steel grunts again, sounding annoyed. He keeps his eyes focused outside the vehicle. I note that he perks up whenever there is a woman. He seems to scrutinize them. It doesn’t matter if it’s a blonde or a brunette. Whether they’re older or younger. They all get equal scrutiny. A woman getting out of a parked car. There’s another walking on the sidewalk. Steel turns his head to get a good look at her.
“Are you trying to find someone in particular?” I ask him. I noted that he did the same when we headed out. He’s looking for something or someone.
“Yes.” He nods his head, glancing my way. His dark eyes are filled with anguish for a moment, and then he looks away. “A fugitive. She cost someone very important to me their life. I’ve made it my mission to find her.” When he looks back, his eyes have hardened again.
“Who is she? Who died?” I want to know more. “How was she involved in the death? I take it she didn’t cause this death directly. Or did she?” I force myself to stop asking questions.
Of course, Steel doesn’t give me more. “It doesn’t matter who she is or what she did.”
It clearly matters. He’s still looking for this fugitive, waiting for us to pass another lady so that he can check to see if it’s this mysterious “her.”
“How long has she been on the run?”
“Four years.”
“Wow! That’s a long time. This island can’t be that big.” I frown.
“She’s in hiding. Someone must be helping her. She can’t hide forever.”
I would hate to have Steel after me. He looks like the type to go after something with dogged determination. Depending on his intentions, that could be amazing, and it could be…terrifying.
While his attention is outside of the vehicle, I take the opportunity to really look at him. He looks incredible in that suit. It fits him like a second skin, pulled tight across his back and broad shoulders. His thighs are thick and meaty.
“Why are you staring at me, Miss Harris?” He turns to face me, and for a second or two, the air seems to thin. His eyes bore into me. They’re so dark, like thick, melted chocolate, and fanned by long lashes. His jaw is masculine and covered in a light stubble.
“It’s weird to see you in a suit, that’s all. You look…good.”
“I’m not one of the twelve men you will get to choose from. I don’t have a cent to my name. I’m a nobody. You would do better to look somewhere else.” His gaze moves back outside.
I bristle. He’s such an asshole. I roll my eyes. “You can relax; I’m not interested in you at all. I like men who are kind and fun. You’re…like a freaking storm cloud all the time. You are the direct opposite of those two things, so not my type at all.”
He doesn’t look my way or respond, which is infuriating. We drive in silence for a minute or two.
“You seemed shocked when the count talked about having children right away,” he blurts from out of nowhere. “Why is that?”
“It’s because I was shocked. I was clear during my negotiations with the general that I wanted to wait at least a year before trying for kids. Yet, he hasn’t seemed to convey this to the candidates. At least, the count wasn’t aware. I will need to ask him about that and about the number of children I’m willing to have. Five or six?” I shake my head. “Yeah, that’s not happening.”
“What difference does it make when you have them?”
“I’m only twenty-four. I’m young. Also, I want to get to know my future husband first.” Just saying it has bile rising in my throat. I can do this. The count wasn’t so bad. He really wasn’t. Steel was right about him being stuck up his own ass and boring as anything, but at least he was nice. That’s one of the two qualities I look for in a man. One is better than none.
“You don’t want to get married at all, do you?”
“I’m fine with marriage, but I really want to wait when it comes to kids.” I feel my stomach knot, and my insides twist at the thought of getting pregnant. I can’t do it more than once. Even then, it’s risky. Twice would be my top. I don’t know if I can do it.
“You look like you’re afraid, which doesn’t make sense.” He narrows his eyes, looking at me. “Are you afraid of ruining your figure?”
I give him a hard stare. Is he for real? “No, it has nothing to do with that. I’m not that shallow. Let’s just say that my mother’s health problems started right after she had my little brother. There was a correlation between the two. One that can be hereditary. I’m too young and too… I worry, that’s all.” I sigh again, realizing that I’m wringing my hands together, and stop, forcing myself to open them on my thighs instead. I force the tension in my shoulders to ease.
“Did you say that your brother was younger than you?”
I frown. “Much younger. My mom had him when she was thirty-nine. They called it a geriatric pregnancy; can you believe that?” I smile, but Steel doesn’t reciprocate. His face remains stoic.
“How old is he now? Your brother.”
I already told Steel this. He doesn’t seem like the type to forget. “He’s six. I missed his birthday.” My heart feels heavy just thinking about my family. I miss them so much.
“When did you say your stepfather died? How old was your brother when it happened?”
I’m not sure why I’m getting all these questions. It feels a little like an interrogation rather than a conversation. “His name is Caleb, and he was three when Trevor died.”
“What caused your stepfather’s death?” He lifts his eyes in thought. “An aneurysm, right? It was sudden, and he died instantly.”
What the hell is this?
I already told Steel how Trevor passed away. “He died suddenly, but it was a heart attack, not an aneurysm. He died in the shower, just fell down dead. Are you trying to catch me out in a lie? Do you think I’m lying, Steel?”
“I don’t know what to think. I don’t know you. I certainly don’t trust you.”
That much is apparent. “So, you thought you’d try to poke holes in my story. You think it’s some fabrication designed to do what, exactly? Why would I lie to you?” I want to hurt him because I’m feeling a little hurt myself. “Like you said yourself, you’re a nobody. A nothing. What possible advantage would I get from lying about something like that?”
“I don’t know. You tell me, Miss Harris.”
What the fuck!?
“Really. I can’t believe you. I don’t know why I told you any of that. Actually, I do. I told you because you asked me. Why did you ask me if you weren’t going to believe a word I said?”
“I shouldn’t have. It isn’t important for me to do my job.”
“Namely, to hold me captive on this island until I’m married off, when all I want is to go home.” My voice hitches.
“You said you were on board with marrying one of these males. Have you changed your mind?” His whole frame tightens. His eyes seem to darken. “Or are you lying again?”
Crap!
I need to keep it together. He suspects me.
“No, I’m not lying,” I finally whisper. “I haven’t changed my mind about marrying one of them.”
“How much are they paying you?”
“A lot and not to me; to my mom and my brother. It’s life-changing money, and they need it.” My voice wobbles. My lips, too. Shit!
His jaw tightens. Yep, I think it’s safe to say that he doesn’t believe me at all.
“Why does it matter?” I ask.
“It doesn’t. Forget I asked.”
For some unknown reason, his comment stings. It shouldn’t. I don’t even like Steel.
“For the record, I haven’t lied about anything. Everything I’ve told you is the truth.” I inject as much sincerity as I can into my words, keeping my eyes on him.
“You’re lying about something, Miss Harris. I’m not sure of what. It could be that you’re lying about your past and about your family needing help. Or, you’re lying about being comfortable with selling yourself to the highest bidder.”
“There isn’t going to be an auction,” I blurt, sounding irritated.
“Semantics! Maybe you’re lying about all of it. Chances are good that you are. You’ve told me that you’re okay with it. I don’t care about the rest. It’s really as simple as that.” The vehicle comes to a stop, and he gets out, coming around the vehicle to help me out.
As soon as we enter, Steel clasps me by the elbow, and we’re walking through the palace. We go down hallways, up the stairs, and take the elevator, going down several more hallways before we’re back at the apartment.
Steel locks the door, putting the key in his pocket.
I start toward the bedroom. I can’t wait to get these heels off. I turn just before reaching the door.
“For the record, I’m not lying about my family and their…our predicament. I’m not lying about being willing to marry one of these guys. I’ll do it, and I’ll do it willingly if I have to. But know that my reasons for doing it are valid. I don’t deserve to be judged by you. I haven’t done anything that would warrant your treatment of me. Know that without this money, my family will be in real trouble. I’m not sure why I’m telling you all this since I don’t owe you anything, least of all an explanation. Believe me, don’t believe me. I don’t give a shit!”
I have to work not to slam the door behind me. Then I sit down on the bed and start undoing the buckles of my shoes. I’m trying desperately to hold back the tears. I can’t keep crying like this. My predicament is less than stellar, but it’s going to work out. My family will be fine. They’ll be rich. A tear falls, and I wipe it away. This is followed by another stupid tear. I can’t stop them. I hate crying. Before becoming a Tribute, I could count on one hand how many times I’d cried in my life. When my dog died, when my stepfather passed away, and when my mother lost her leg. That’s it. Now I cry all the damned time, and it has to stop. Things could be worse.