Corrupt Prince by Ivy Mason

Two

As soon asthe cars pulled up to take Bourbon and Rose away, I followed my father to his, determined to step into my new role as the protector. I had to know my enemy to defeat him.

First, I was going to gain his trust. Then, as soon as his back was turned, I was going to stab a knife in it.

I was silent the whole ride to the house, only shifting on the luxurious black leather of the seat, studying him. He had two deep scratches on his neck and one on his face.

He had a lithe and athletic build, with muscular arms and legs, but it had been a long time since my father had gotten his hands dirty.

I watched, emotionless, as the "doctor" got on her knees in front of my father, her light-brown highlighted hair cascaded down her back in tight curls. She pulled his dick out to give him a blow job.

Right in front of me.

If this was the kind of shit Bourbon had had to put up with his whole life, no wonder he’d become a robot.

My father just stared at me with a smirk on his face, hardly giving her any attention until, finally, he gave in to the moment. Grasping the back of her hair, he thrust forward, and she choked on his dick.

As he shoved her deeper into his crotch, his lips twisted even wider.

She was suffocating but he didn't care, and he didn’t release her until he'd blown his load down her throat. She sucked in a breath, tears streaming down her face and her makeup smeared as she swallowed, then licked him clean.

Usually I didn't mind a girl getting dirty like that but watching someone do it to my father made disgust roll in my stomach.

When she was done, she got up and sat next to him, staring at the floor. He zipped up his pants and pulled out his phone, tapping on it and ignoring her. When we drove inside the gates to the house, he commanded his driver, Brett, to stop, then finally turned his attention to her. "Get out."

Her mouth dropped open. "But--"

"I need to talk to my son, and you have work to do." He nodded to her medical bag, where she'd stashed the vials of Bourbon's blood.

"You can at least drop me off at my car." Her voice was incredulous. The walk from the gate to the house wasn’t a long walk but it was still a ways.

“Like I said," his voice was a cold sneer, "I need to talk to my son before we get to the door."

She stared at him for a moment, as if she was going to stand up to him. Her lips parted but, at the dark glare he gave her, they snapped shut. She crawled out of the car, grabbing her bag before slamming the door behind her.

As soon as the car began to move again, he turned his attention to me, not giving her a second thought. “Before I bring you into this house, I need to know if I can trust you.”

I gave him a hard look. “I kept an eye on Bourbon, made sure he didn’t do anything to disgrace the family name.”

“Like running off after some snatch?”

“Like you said, she’s not some whore, but Petrov royalty. Their union makes business sense.”

“You don’t care about business. If so, you wouldn’t have killed Dimitri.”

“Dimitri was a cunt. He was too emotional. If he hadn’t been so worried about getting her back, we’d have made hundreds of thousands by now, and he’d still have his head attached to his neck.”

My father scowled. “Why did he care about her so much anyway?”

I shrugged. “Does it matter? He’s dead. Nicholi is making the decisions now.” I leaned back, detaching myself from this conversation in order to convince my father that I was on his side. “The ozone we have won’t last. The crates we’ve captured will keep them busy for a little while, but we need to make a new alliance with Nicholi. I’ll do some research. Figure out what’s important to him.”

From what Knight had told me, Nicholi was just as sadistic as Dimitri, if not more.

“Once we have what he wants,” I continued, “I’ll set up a meeting between us. Bourbon was too accommodating. All we need is leverage, then it’s easy to broker a deal.”

My father studied me impassively as we pulled up to the door. "Fine," he finally answered, “we’ll see if I can trust you. Prove it to me by taking care of the sister. She’s in one of the guest bedrooms. You will be in charge of keeping her happy. Make sure she is fed and has the necessary supplies.”

I gave him an astonished look, surprised that he even cared about all that.

"Don't be stupid. I'm well aware that this girl is my leverage over keeping Bourbon from slitting my throat.”

“Fine,” I agreed.

“I’ll let Marisol know. But be aware. She’s a difficult woman, so keep a watchful eye on her. If she goes missing, your head will roll. Is that clear?”

I nodded and he shifted forward, ready to step out of the car.

“There's one more thing. I have another prisoner in the room next to Aster's. If you really want to take a step up in the family, I’ll need you to take care of him, too. Make sure he has just enough food to keep him alive, nothing else. He can have toilet paper and a bar of soap to keep him from stinking up the house, but that is all.”

“Okay.” The torture part was already beginning.

“Listen to him, be friendly with him if he wants to talk, then report everything back to me." He laid a hand on my shoulder, giving me a dark, threatening look. "I can trust you with him, correct? If not, then I'll find someone else to do the job."

I nodded. "Of course."

"Good," he nodded, then he began to climb out of the car. "Marisol will show you where their rooms are." Then he stepped out and walked into the house without a backwards glance.

I waited a full moment after the door closed behind him before I leaned back into the seat, thinking.

Something was different. My father had never kept any prisoners at the house.

It was too distasteful and dirty. He had back rooms in warehouses for that.

But now, he had two prisoners in the house, and had taken vials of Bourbon’s blood.

There had to be a reason for all this, and I was going to find out why.

Brett lowered the partition. "Do you need to go somewhere, sir?"

"Take me back up the driveway. Let's bring my father's new whore to her car."

James frowned. "I don't think Nero would like that sir."

"I don't fucking care what he would like."

The edges of Brett’s lips trickled upwards in a suppressed smile, and he nodded. "Yes, sir,” he said as he pulled the car around the circular driveway. The woman was in high heels and her dress was so short, it was riding up her ass. She was walking strange, as if she'd never worn heels before.

When we offered to take her to her car, she didn't hesitate and climbed in, thanking me. We were silent for most of the way and, after a while, I had to ask her. “What will Nero do with the blood?”

Her eyes widened and she clutched the bag closer to her torso, as if I was going to jerk it from her. "I can't tell you that."

I nodded, understanding, then let my eyes fall to her dress. "Are you a real doctor?"

"Of course I am."

"And do you usually dress like that for work?"

She shifted uncomfortably, pulling down her dress. "Not usually, but Nero thought it might be more appropriate when I work with him, given my new...duties."

I bit down on my lower lip, considering her. The woman didn't seem to be too happy with her new job.

Nero was probably forcing her to do whatever it was with Bourbon’s blood that he wanted. Giving him a blow was just something he considered his perks by employing her.

I sighed, staring out the window, deciding I wasn’t going to stand by and let my father do whatever the hell he wanted with the people around him.

As we dropped the woman off at her car, I resolved then and there that I was going to try to get the doctor out from under his thumb. I said my thanks to Brett, then climbed out of the car, taking in a deep breath as I stared up at the mansion.

I suddenly realized that I hadn't missed the place.

In fact, being back home felt like chains were wrapped around me again. It was stifling and suffocating.

I hated it.

And now, I had to feed and take care of Rose's sister.

As I walked through the front door, I clamped down on my emotions, determined I wouldn’t let them affect me.

Marisol, the cook who had been in our family as long as I could remember, was waiting for me when I entered, holding a plate of freshly baked cookies and a smile. "Coulter. Estás aquí. You're home."

Something inside me loosened and I leaned over, giving her a hug and kiss on the cheek. She was short, barely reaching my chest, with bronzed skin and large, brown eyes. When she reached over, hugging me back, her plump body enveloped mine with warmth.

She didn't mention Bourbon and I figured my father must have informed her that Bourbon wasn't going to be staying here. Either that or she'd lived here long enough to know not to ask questions.

"Here,” after she let me go, she thrust the plate of cookies at me.

“Thanks.” I tried to smile, realizing that she was only trying to make me feel better. I stuffed a couple into the pocket of my Armani suit, because no one ever said no to Marisol. She turned and replaced the cookies with another tray of food, passing it over to me. “This is for the young lady.”

She acted as if Aster was here voluntarily, a special guest in our home, instead of taken against her will. I guessed even the servants had their own ways of coping. “After you serve her, I will give you the other tray,” she nodded, picking up another platter, “Nero said that he wants you to feed the man from now on.”

I noticed that there was significantly better quality food on the plate that had Aster’s food. It looked like my father was holding up his end of the deal to treat Aster well in exchange for the weapons and drugs.

Marisol began to walk up the stairs and I followed behind her, noticing that her straight, dark-brown hair had grown to the top to her waist. She turned left, heading down the hallway in the opposite direction of my father's rooms.

"Do you know who the man is?” I asked Marisol.

She clicked her tongue. "You know as well as I do that I don't speak of Mr. King's business, ever. Unless I want to lose my job."

Or your life, I wanted to add, though I didn't. However, that might not be correct. If my father would ever show anyone leniency, it would be Marisol. Her cooking skills were the only way to my father's heart, and not the blood that ran through our veins.

She'd worked for him since before my mom brought me to live here and, from what I could gather, since Bourbon was a baby too. She'd probably been the only woman in his life for this long.

As we walked, I glanced around, looking for my younger brothers. I wasn't surprised that they weren't waiting for me when we arrived, but I'd hoped to at least talk to them. My mom had asked me to keep an eye out for them.

“Where are the twins?”

At this, she pressed her lips into a firm line, betraying her disapproval. "Mr. King shipped them off to a private school in Atlanta.”

I nodded, understanding now why it was so quiet. After a few more steps, we came to stop outside of the door to one of the many guest rooms we had in our house.

"Now," she said with a mischievous grin, “prepare yourself. She’s an unruly one.”

I gave her a confused look but she didn't say anything more, just unlocked the door with a key that hung around her neck.

“What kind of mischievousness are you up to?” I asked her, not able to hold back my chuckle as I opened the door. She shook her head, only giving me a secretive amused look. It suddenly fell away when her eyes landed on something in the room, then they widened in shock.

I turned, then froze when I saw the women in the center of the room.

Before us was a pile of broken furniture, and the odor of nail polish remover filled my nose.

A girl stood over the pile of broken furniture, with wild red hair, flashing green eyes, and a feral expression on her face. She held her hand up, gripping what looked like a sock.

Flames licked the edges, trickling upwards towards her fingers.

Her eyes met mine, and her lips curled upwards in a smirk. “You must be the Prince Charming.”

Then she dropped the sock, setting the furniture on fire.