Page 22 of Avenging Azalea

“You’re always such a doll,” Mother said as she handed them off to one of the staff. “Please put these in a vase, and let’s set them on the table,” she said, pointing and taking her seat.

“Always the fucking suck up,” Ronan growled.

“It’s called being considerate, brother. Try thinking of someone other than yourself for a change. You may find it refreshing.”

“Fuck….” Ronan stopped as my mother smacked her hand down on the table.

“No swearing at the dinner table. Titus is right. Can we please get through one meal?”

“Where’s Aaron,” I asked, quickly changing the subject.

“He had business in New York,” Father said. I knew that but wanted to change the subject. “He secured the land for our new office building.”

The anger dissipated when the food was served. We ate and made small talk, but I was waiting for the next explosion. You could always count on at least two per family meal.

“Nathaniel, have you looked over the options I sent you,” Father asked as we finished dessert.

“If you’re referring to the women you keep trying to pawn off on me…then, no. I’m not interested,” Nathaniel said.

Father’s face darkened. Here we go.

“What the hell is wrong with you? I send you suitable princesses to choose from, and you turn your nose up like they’re garbage. This better not have anything to do with that FBI agent you’ve been pining after. You should’ve killed her instead of making a deal.”

Nathaniel growled, and his hands curled into fists on the table. As hard as he tried, it was impossible to hide the fact that he was still in love with the woman he parted ways with four years ago. As far as I knew, they hadn’t spoken since, but I’d seen the picture on his phone and watched how he’d thrown himself into the business. I didn’t bother him about it. Who the hell was I to talk? My heart was also tied to someone that I could never have.

“Keep Savannah out of this. It’s my choice whether I get married or not, and I’m not letting you push me into some marriage I don’t want,” Nathaniel said. “I don’t know why you keep thrusting this on me anyway. It’s not like I’m the next in line to take over. Why aren’t you hounding Ronan?”

“Hey! What the hell? Why are you throwing me under the bus?” Ronan glared at Nathaniel.

“Because it’s true. You’re thirty-three, not married, and no heir. Why aren’t you in the hot seat?”

My mother sagged in her chair and rubbed at her temples. All this arguing bothered her despite how hard she tried not to show it.

“I already chose for Ronan. She arrives tomorrow,” Father said, and Ronan’s mouth dropped.

“What? When were you planning on telling me?”

“I wasn’t until she got here and the paperwork was signed. You never chose, even though you said you would three years ago. So I did. As I am the head of this house and you are my successor, I have the right.”

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” Ronan yelled. His fist slammed on the table, and the silverware jumped. I was sure the dishes were as sick of this as the rest of us.

My mother shook her head but didn’t say anything about the profanity. I placed my hand on hers, and she gripped my fingers. She was a good woman, a great mother, and deserved so much more respect than what my father showed her. Her children were the bright spot in her life, and when we fought, it bothered her more than all my father’s indiscretions. Then again, seeing my father in action had made me never want to be anything like him.

“Ronan, you will marry Vera Vilanova. It’s an excellent match. She’s beautiful, comes from a powerful family, brings in multiple revenue streams, and is only twenty-three. The perfect age to produce a large family.”

Ronan jumped up so fast that his chair skidded back and fell over with a bang.

“No, I will not marry her.”

My father stood. It was extremely rare to see the two of them square off against each other. That was normally Nathaniel’s role. He looked happier than a pig in shit watching the show. He even slid further away to give them room. I shook my head.

“Yes, you will. That is an order.”

“No, I refuse. I’d rather walk away and join Uncle Vadin’s business in Russia. I’m sure he would love to have my expertise.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Father snarled while his hand slid closer to his gun. Ronan caught the movement and matched him.

“Please don’t fight,” mother said, trying to calm the situation by placing her hand on Fathers. He jerked away from her with a glare.