Page 21 of His Last Will

Anthony grabs his gun and lays it on the table next to his plate without removing his finger from the trigger before responding, “Arianna, if you speak to me like that again, it will be the last breath you take.” The air empties from my lungs at the disdain in his voice.

Pushing back my chair, I storm out of the room, pressing my hand to my chest, hoping to relieve the pressure.

This isn’t right. Nothing will ever be right again.

AIDEN

“Are you happy with yourself?” I take a sip from my drink and glare at my stepfather over the rim. Most people wouldn’t dare to defy Anthony Araneae, so the fact that Ari yelled at him and stormed out of the room speaks volumes. The fact that he didn’t shoot her says even more.

It also made my dick twitch a little, but I blatantly don’t think about that.

I am not in a hurry to marry my betrothed, but my reasoning is different than hers. She has expectations that need to be met. And she’s not wrong. It has been impressed upon us the importance of securing the family line.

Anthony doesn’t bother to respond to my question, just grunts and continues to cut into his lamb. Normally, I wouldn’t argue with the man. It’s not like I need to encourage waiting. But my bride might come to my bed more willingly if it looked like I was on her side. Maybe it would even soften her toward me. And if I could tempt her into my arms sooner than the wedding, well, that was our business.

“Would it really be a problem to wait until after graduation to get married? Is there some sort of stipulation in the will I am missing?” I take a sip of my wine, knowing there is not. I read the will ten times over, looking for clues as to why Brodie gave her to me.

Brodie knew how I felt. I ignore the inner voice telling me that he actually knew more than that. That he knew the truth I kept hidden, even from myself.

Irritation spikes through me, but I press it down, needing to focus on my current problem.

Anthony watches me carefully before responding. “You know we have expectations to maintain and secure the line. I will kill her myself and marry you off to someone else before I let her jeopardize that.”

Ahhh. There it is. Ari is expected to breed an heir. Disgusting.

He continues, ignoring my look of utter disgust, thinking of my fiancée as a breeding horse, “And the wedding does need to happen before Initiation night. That is nonnegotiable and was always the plan even before everything went to hell.”

“It will be pretty hard to accomplish procreation if my new wife refuses me,” I counter, knowing he at least has some morals on consent. Not a lot, but enough.

He gulps down the last of his drink. “You could force her.”

My blood runs cold. “Absolutely not.” Barely contained rage builds inside of me, the reaper inside rattling its cage.

“Then I need some incentive to postpone.” A prickly sensation washes over me, warning me that Anthony is up to something.

“And what could you possibly want from me that you couldn’t get yourself?”

Anthony’s response is cryptic and not at all what I am hoping for, given the potential for regret down the line. “I’ll let you know when I want to cash in my favor.”

Yep, instant regret, but that’s a later Aiden problem. “Fine.” The agreement tasting bitter on my tongue.

“But when the time comes, securing the line has to be your focus, Aiden. The second she walks off the stage at graduation, there will be no further delays. Initiation is coming, and neither of you will like the consequences if you aren’t married by then.” Slamming back his chair, he walks out of the room.

I stand to go as well. “Wonderful, and with that lovely threat, Mother dearest, I need to go.”

“Aiden, wait.” She halts me midstride.

Getting up from her chair as well, she walks over to me, placing her hand on mine, and I work hard not to flinch away from her touch. “Convince her of the wedding in April. It’s in everyone’s best interest.”

With a barely suppressed sigh, I decide blackmail is my best course of action. “Mother, you will move the wedding to May. The summer solstice isn’t until June, which is when Initiation is anyway. If you don’t move it, I will let Anthony know where you go every Tuesday afternoon for ‘lunch’ and with whom you go.”

My mother’s gasp could be recorded and used as an overlay sound on a daytime soap opera, it’s that dramatic. I’d be surprised if Brodie didn’t hear her from his room in hell. She fixes me with an icy stare. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“I would. Now, fix it. I don’t have time for your bullshit.”

I need my morgue.

“Bosco, come.” The spider hops into my palm on my command from his spot in the dining room.