Who in the staff had reported back to him, who was addicted, under his thumb, everything. The bastard spilled it all, including the asshole he’d had poison Valeria, and we were able to get her the antidote before any serious damage was done.
His attorney managed to secure bail on the condition that he was confined to his quarter of the estate, heavily guarded by my men, not his berserker fuckwit hired hounds. The few that were left. I’d dealt with those motherfuckers too, sending them off to Siberia never to be seen again. If the cold didn’t kill them, the wolves probably would.
As for the would-be assassin with the poison pin, his corpse was discovered dangling from a tree in the forest.
I tried to force my attention back on what my father was saying.
Contracts, deeds, negotiations.
Accounts, agreements, business plans.
All of it was clear to me, but I knew that part of the process of his handing things over to me was to explain them in his own way.
I stood up, helping myself to another cup of coffee from the sideboard, and stood at the window, looking at the wide swaths of frosty fields that ran into the forests beyond.
Natasha stood outside, shaking out one of my mother’s down duvets; we’d taken her in when my brother was sitting in jail, and she’d become something of a companion to my mom.
Natasha was still a fucking mess, bone thin and wild-eyed, but she had a good heart and my mom enjoyed having her nearby. I wasn’t sure I completely trusted her not to steal all our goddamned silver, but she was getting better. Day by day.
Mostly thanks to Daniel. From the time I had him return her here to the estate and got her under the care of our doctor, he’d barely left her side. I recognized the look in his eye, it was the same look I had when I looked at Valeria…
Glancing down, I double-checked that I still had the only thing that had any value at all to me anymore: the ring I’d given Valeria. I still had it, hanging from my neck, underneath my shirt, on a ribbon that she’d left behind that she’d used to tie her braid the night I’d kidnapped her.
Thinking about that, I couldn’t help but laugh to myself a little. She’d fought me like a fucking champ. And beat me in the end.
A knock at the door jolted me back to reality. My father barked at the door to come in. Ivan the old butler emerged, looking apologetic.
“There’s a visitor for you, sir,” he said.
“Tell them to wait!” my father huffed. “I’m in the middle of something. Or trying to be!” He turned his frustrated eyes on me.
“Not for you, sir,” the butler said, bowing now towards me. “It’s a visitor for you, Mr. Vasile. And I would say it’s rather… important.”
Important? Please. There was only one thing that was actually important, and that was her.
“Who is it?” I asked.
The old butler lifted his gaze, with a small but definite smile on his face.
“It’s Princess Valeria Valentine, sir.”
She was here, in this house? To see me? I was so fucking stunned that I sat there, completely speechless, until I finally got my shit together and managed to ask, “Is she… is she okay?”
“Oh yes, sir,” he said with a little sparkle in his eye. “Quite as lovely as ever. She’s waiting for you in the drawing room.”
Holy fuck.
* * *
My heart banged like canon fire in my chest as I entered the drawing room.
She sat across the room, near the window, wearing a yellow silk dress and hat looking fucking beautiful as ever. Thinner than she had been though, not nearly as voluptuous as my eyes, hands and mouth remembered.
Something about her looked more fragile. And my urge to possess and protect her came rushing back like a blaze through a dry forest.
When she saw me, she smiled that big, beautiful smile. Fuck, I wanted her. I wanted to be inside her right then and there. She was a goddamned vision. The woman of my dreams.
But I didn’t dare let myself think about why she was there to see me. Didn’t fucking dare let myself hope. Just the fact that she was sitting there, waiting for me, was enough. One glimpse at her and I felt like a starving man who’d had his first bite of food in ages.
For the first time, I felt awkward and tongue tied in front of her. Fucking love-struck. I reached out to take her hand and she offered it to me. I kissed the back of her palm, giving her all the reverence she deserved. Not just because of her title. But because of what she meant and would always mean to me.
She was my Queen. My one and only.
I stopped short of actually dropping to one knee and bowing to her, though fuck knows I wanted to. Instead, I managed to pull my pussy-whipped self together and sit down in the chair across from her.
“I missed you so fucking much,” I said, my voice gravelly and deep.
Hearing that embarrassed her, clearly, but she had too much poise to let her veneer drop completely. She nibbled her lip as she looked at her hands in her lap, then raised her bright green eyes to me. They looked bigger and more innocent than I’d remembered yet more powerful somehow.
“I wanted to come to thank you,” she said. “For sending the doctor to help us. To help my dad. It made all the difference.”
“You don’t need to thank me,” I said. “Never.”
“But I am thanking you,” she said, her voice almost sharp now. Demanding almost. My fucking Queen, indeed.
“You’re very welcome,” I said. “How
