Chapter 186: Normal
Chapter 185
Baron Rosengarde
I take a seat opposite the Duke, composed.
"I do not think so, Duke," I say.
He smirks.
"Growing cocky now that your son is on the coattails of a prince? A bastard prince?" he says.
"I do not understand, Your Grace."
"I wonder what the Crown Prince will think once he finds out about the Baron’s actions a few years ago." He pours himself a cup of tea. Steam rises between us.
"Everyone knows that the Crown Prince adores his Crown Princess. And on her behest, he’s been cracking down on omega auctions."
My jaw tightens.
"It would be quite the scandal," the Duke says, "the fact that his new brother-in-law was sold at an auction?"
He clicks his tongue.
"And do you think I’m unaware of the fact that despite that perverted bastard Doraemont buying him for 50 million, you did not refuse my offer? Nor fourothers." He pauses.
"200 million."
I clench my fists.
"Quite greedy, Baron. 200 million."
The word hangs in the air like smoke.
"Your Grace—"
"I have the receipts." He sets down his teacup. "Bank transfers. Signed agreements. Your signature, Baron. On every single one."
My throat tightens.
"You sold your son. Not once. Not twice. Four times." He counts on his fingers.
"Doraemont. Duvall. Roderick. Florence." He lowers his hand.
"A bit unfair, isn’t it? How much has the bastard prince given you? Some of us had to pay hefty prices."
"Do you want your money back? Is that it?" I say through gritted teeth.
"Hmmmnnn..." He leans back, considering. "The contract clearly stated that breach of contract on your end would require you to pay ten times the initial price."
He leans forward.
"And that is... 500 million?"
My heart pounds.
"But!" He claps his hands. The sound echoes through the room. "You couldn’t provide that money even if you had it."
I grip the arms of my chair.
"I want what I bought from you." He says. "I’m generous. It could even be the same arrangement. At least this way, I wouldn’t have to share him with the others. Just the bastard prince."
I stare at him.
"You want me to—"
"Deliver what was promised." He stands.
"Because if this is exposed, your new-found reputation will be gone. And not just that..." His voice drops. "You don’t want to know what I’ll do to you."
He walks toward the door.
"That’s impossible," I say, thinking of how smitten the prince is with my son.
Marius pauses at the door. Turns.
"Is it?"
He studies me. My face. My hands. The way I’m gripping the arms of the chair.
"Well, that’s none of my concern now, is it, Baron Rosengarde?"
He opens the door.
"Wait."
He pauses.
"Wait?"
"I need... time."
"Time?"
"To think."
He smiles and it’s thin and cold.
"You have until the end of the week."
He walks out.
The door clicks shut.
***
Jack
Tell me why this guy has been sending looks my way.
This guy being my sunshine.
I narrow my eyes as he bends over to swing the golf ball. There’s nothing indecent about what he’s wearing. At all. It’s normal slacks.
That are white. Hanging low on his hips. And a half shirt. With a diamond waist chain that glimmers in the sun with every movement.
Completely normal.
I grip my club tighter.
Ciel stands up. Glances at me. Smiles.
Innocent.
I don’t believe him for a second.
He knows exactly what he’s doing.
These days, there’s something going on with my beautiful omega. It must be the heat. I mean, I’m not complaining, but he’s so... proactive.
Proactively seducing me.
I want to show him the consequences of his naughty actions, but the king loves his golf. And the "bonding" that comes from golf.
So I’ll behave.
Begrudgingly.
I grip my club tighter.
"Relax," Ciel calls from the tee.
"I’m relaxed."
"You look like you’re about to murder someone."
"I’m relaxed."
He laughs. That bright, knowing laugh that makes me want to drag him into the nearest hedge but also makes me want to take a picture.
I realize I have my camera around my neck.
So I do exactly that.
I lift it. Frame him. The sunlight catches his hair, turning it to fire. His head is tilted back, throat exposed, smile wide and unguarded.
He turns and catches me.
"Jack."
"What? You’re beautiful."
He shakes his head. Walks toward me.
"Let me see."
I show him the screen.
"The camera doesn’t capture you properly," I say.
"What do you mean?"
I lower the camera.
"The light gets it wrong. The colors are off. The..." I struggle for words. "The essence isn’t there."
He tilts his head.
"You’re saying I’m unphotographable?"
"I’m saying you’re too beautiful for a camera to capture."
He looks surprised, like he didn’t expect me to say that. His face gets slightly red...just a touch, just enough for me to notice.
"Don’t say such things in public," he says, and walks away.
I watch him go.
His shoulders are straight. His steps are quick. His ears are pink.
Cute.
I follow him.
"Sunshine."
He doesn’t stop.
"Ciel."
He keeps walking.
I catch up. Fall into step beside him.
"You’re blushing."
"I’m not."
"Your ears are red."
"The sun is hot."
"The sun is not that hot."
He glares at me. I grin.
"I hate you."
"No, you don’t."
He doesn’t answer.
It’s amazing, really. He’s so bold and forward when it comes to sex, physical attraction. He knows what he wants, and he’s not afraid to ask for it.
But he never knows what to do with non-physical emotional intimacy.
A compliment makes him flustered. A genuine word about his beauty, his worth, his essence—and he short-circuits. Blushes. Walks away.
It’s cute.
Then I get sad, when I think about why he’s like this.
Then I get angry when I think of the culprits.
"Try to flirt in your own private time. The rest of us are here too." Anderson interrupts us, appearing from behind a cluster of trees cutting our time together short.