16. Paolo

CHAPTER 16

PAOLO

T o nobody’s surprise, less than five minutes after Maria has taken Chloe to her room, Miguel and Luca burst into my room without knocking or asking.

“Look who’s home,” Miguel sneers.

“Hello, Miggi,” I say disinterestedly, using the nickname that’s wound him up ever since we were young. “Hello, Luca.”

“Come downstairs,” Luca demands, folding his arms like an old man. “We have things to talk about.”

“Okay,” I say, rolling my eyes. I know I’m going to get absolutely no choice in this matter, so there’s no point in arguing.

Like a prisoner, they march me out of my room and downstairs to one of the drawing rooms at the back of the house. Nobody really uses this room, and my brothers know it. No doubt they’ve strategically picked this location so we won’t be disturbed.

I sit down in one of the seats around the table. Luca sits opposite me, and Miguel — of course — takes the head of the table. My eldest brother is exactly as arrogant as you would expect a crown prince to be. He knows everyone thinks he’s the most important person in all the land and acts like he is. He’s exactly the kind of person you think of when you think of a prince: snobbish, uptight, and looks at everyone else like they’re a peasant.

I might be wild, but I swore to myself a long time ago that I would never be as callous as he is.

Luca is a lot harder to describe. He’s one of those people who, if he didn’t speak, you would barely know he was in a room. He’s got an almost malleable personality, able to adapt to any situation and be the person who looks best in it. If he was evil, he’d be terrifyingly dangerous, but as he is, he’s always playing second fiddle to Miguel. I don’t think he’s ever going to be a threat to anyone.

No one except me, anyway.

“You’ve come back for the inheritance, haven’t you?” spits Miguel.

“No,” I lie. “I came back because this is my home. I wanted to see my family — and nobody told me my grandfather had died.” And, I think, I do want my inheritance.

“Well, unfortunately,” continues Miguel, “despite what we all tried to tell him, Grandfather didn’t write you out of the will. You always were his favorite.”

“Can’t see why,” chips in Luca, examining his manicure like a disinterested villain. “It’s not like you do anything but give us all a bad name.”

“Thanks,” I say, letting their words flow over me. This is mild compared to their usual digs. “Anyway, where the hell have you two been? I’ve been home for two months now. I haven’t seen either of you at all.”

“Some people actually have jobs to do,” says Luca, fixing me with a withering look that, if I were less wise to his tricks, would disintegrate me at once. “We’ve both been in Spain for the last six months. You know — diplomatic relations, keeping alliances, that kind of thing.”

I can’t help myself and say, “Oh, yeah? Trying out every tavern in a twenty-mile radius of the hotel? Having every girl you set your eyes on?”

Miguel slams his fist on the table, his eyes blazing with irritation. “This is why we got rid of you. You’re a good-for-nothing, arrogant little brat. We were better off without you here.”

I roll my eyes. When I was younger, these sorts of comments used to hurt me, but ever since I realized that Miguel was lashing out at me to cover for his own insecurity, not a single word he has said has bothered me.

“This is boring,” I say, making a point of yawning theatrically. “Can I go now?”

“No,” says Luca. “The thing is, Paolo, we don’t think you have the right to come back here and demand inheritance. We don’t think you should get anything at all.”

“Surely that was Grandpa’s choice to make,” I say. “You can’t exactly stop it if it’s written in law. That’s how these things work.”

Luca scoffs. “How these things work is, if you’re a good little boy who doesn’t go and get himself exiled and acts like a real prince the way he’s meant to, then you can get whatever you want.”

Miguel gives Luca a hard look, presumably to shut him up, then takes over the conversation. “You are the first person to have been banished in over three hundred years. You can’t just saunter back in here full of lies, hauling your fake wife behind you and pretending that everything’s going to be okay. Life just doesn’t work like that.”

I lean back in my seat, shrugging. I think they’re probably bluffing about their ability to cut me out of the family. I have no way of knowing for certain, though, so I probably shouldn’t piss them off, just in case they do have some sorts of power to take Grandfather’s money away from me.

But even if they do, if Mother and Father let me stay, then frankly I don’t need the inheritance anyway. If I’m allowed to stay, there’s nothing Miguel and Luca can do to stop me being here.

“My wife isn’t fake,” I say, deciding that is the easiest argument to make. “She’s actually very real. She’s upstairs right now.”

The best argument, maybe, but possibly not the best thing to say, because a glint enters both of their eyes. It’s a wicked kind of sparkle I remember well from childhood. That is a look of imminent bullying. That’s something I cannot — I will not — allow to happen to Chloe.

They can say what they like to me , but they will not hurt her.

“We look forward to meeting her,” says Luca with a crude grin. “I bet Mom and Dad are, too.”

“Actually, they told me that, because I’m responsible now, because I have a wife who they are going to meet and like, that means I’m going to be able to stay in this country forever again. Which means I’m just as entitled to the inheritance as you are.”

“So this is about the inheritance!” snaps Miguel like he’s won. Then he launches into a long spiel about how horrible I am and how I don’t deserve any money or the family name or blah-blah-blah.

I’m just relieved that they’re back to attacking me rather than Chloe. They’re both kind of scary when they’re mean, and they’re mean a lot. The last thing I want is for Chloe to get embroiled with them.

I know I shouldn’t tune out from what Miguel is saying, but I can’t help it. He’s boring me to tears, and all I can think about is Chloe upstairs in a room all by herself.

All alone in a foreign country, cursing my name because of all the lies I’ve told her.

She must be just as crazy as I am to have stayed here.

There’s no way she can forgive me after everything I’ve done. Somehow, the idea of her cutting me out forever freezes my heart like a block of ice.

I guess I was stupid to have thought she would still want me.

I guess I screwed it all up when I never messaged her again after I got home.

Even if I had wanted to, I was too fixed on my goals. I wanted to get home. I think there was a part of me that thought, after I got home, I could get to know her a little better. I think I was looking forward to it, seeing if our relationship actually could go somewhere. Seeing if, maybe one day, we could make something real out of it.

All of that seems incredibly unlikely now.

We argue for what feels like hours, Miguel and Luca insistent that I shouldn’t get anything, me doing my best not to rile them up — and failing. This is the same kind of argument we’ve been having ever since we were kids. Not over inheritance, but over anything.

It was always those two against me, and I could never win. They would always decide what they want and then decide that I was not allowed to join in, laughing when I got upset.

I used to wish for nicer brothers. For the kinds of brothers you see in movies, who look after you, who care about you as a person. For the longest time, I thought that kind of fraternal relationship was completely fictional — but it turns out my brothers are just horrible.

All of this is such a waste of time. I could be upstairs with Chloe right now. We could go out and explore the world. I could be trying to win her back, or at the very least win her forgiveness.

Even if she doesn’t want me romantically, I’d settle for her friendship. Despite everything, she’s become way too important to me to lose forever.

“Okay,” says Luca after an eternity of relentless bickering has passed. “It seems that none of us are going to change our minds about this.”

Miguel huffs in begrudging agreement.

“Mother and Father will make their decision soon,” Luca continues. “If they allow him to stay, then I suppose we will have to accept grandfather’s wishes. But if he screws up again?—”

“ When ,” Miguel interrupts.

“Then we should have no issue with cutting him out altogether.”

Miguel nods in agreement. “He won’t be able to argue against that.”

This is another of their favorite tricks, both talking about me like I’m not in the room while I’m sitting in front of them. It’s designed to make me angry, and it works. Fortunately, I’ve got a lot better at holding my tongue over the years.

“So, I’m free to go now?” I say as calmly as I can, getting to my feet. “You’ve both been such delightful company, but I have a wife upstairs with whom I would much rather spend my time.”

They shoot me a look that I can only describe as utter disdain, then wave me away. I know they’re going to be sitting there bitching about me for the rest of the day, but I don’t care.

It’s not like I was lying. I do have Chloe. I do want to be out of their company.

I’ve done everything I can. I’m home. We just have to get through the dinner now. And if my brothers get me kicked back out? Well, so be it.

At least I’ve tried. There’s not really a whole lot else I can do.