Buying him, p.2
Buying Him, page 2
The point was, she’d been her daddy's ear. Plain old Victoria had been her father's tip-off on deals being made and who was backstabbing whom. However, such work wasn't suitable for a resume; attending parties to gain information didn't give her any employable skills.
The cold, hard reality was Victoria was completely screwed if she didn't get her inheritance.
‘And there it is,’ Hattie said, lifting her teacup as if toasting the revelation. ‘The bit’s finally dropped.’
‘Merde,’ Victoria breathed, not even bothering to look abashed about the use of such a word. ‘Do you think he’s done it to make us stand on our own feet?’
‘Really?’ Pippa said, gazing at Victoria over the top of her teacup. She slid her eyes towards Hattie before looking back at Victoria. ‘Perhaps, for you and Alexi.’
‘Hey!’ Alexi protested. ‘I keep telling you guys, I’ll be a queen one day.’ Victoria, Pippa, and Alexi rolled their eyes and groaned in unison at the words they’d grown tired of hearing. ‘You can mock me all you want,’ Alexi said haughtily. ‘But you mark my words, I will be a queen.’
‘Yes, Your Majesty,’ Victoria said. ‘Just don’t try and bonk Alistair, okay?’
‘Ew! We’re cousins!’
‘At least she has some boundaries,’ Pippa sniffed. Her comment made Hattie snort into her cup. Victoria bit back a smile as she watched her sister’s cheeks flush bright red at her lack of decorum; she wasn’t a total heathen after all.
‘But, before you go and rule whatever great nation you’ve set your sights upon,’ Pippa continued. ‘We need to put ourselves on the back-burner and ensure that Victoria’s share doesn’t go to King Richard.’
‘Hear, hear!’ Hattie said.
‘I’d rather be beheaded for treason than see him getting my money,’ Victoria said defiantly as she picked up her cup before taking a sip of her drink. ‘But I’m afraid that it may end up being the case.’
‘What?’ Hattie asked, her head turning sharply to her elder sibling. ‘Why? As Pippa just said, we’ll help. Between us, we know a plethora of men; we’ll find you someone.’
‘Oh, what about those friends of yours—Jensen or Roman Tyrrell?’ Alexi piped up. ‘They’re handsome and independently wealthy. They’ll need their own heirs and old man Tyrrell would kill to get his hands on some of Daddy’s assets.’
They certainly were handsome, but Jensen Tyrrell was a womanising wild man, who Victoria didn’t think could be counted on and had caused many problems between Hattie and their father. And the few times Victoria had met his twin Roman, he’d been cold and aloof to everyone present. There was no warmth to him; what would he be like as a husband and father? She was about to shake her head no when Hattie beat her to it.
‘No.’ Her voice was firm and brooked no room for argument. Colour rose to tinge her cheeks pink as all three pairs of eyes turned to focus on her, brows raised in surprise at the amount of venom held in a single word. ‘I mean, Jensen’s sworn he’ll never marry and Roman has a long-term girlfriend, Fiona Martin.’
‘Ugh, I hate the Martins,’ Alexi said, stirring her tea with a silver spoon. ‘I heard she’s as cold as a fish. Maybe he’d be willing to give her up in exchange for something.’ Hattie narrowed her eyes at her youngest sister.
‘You’re all forgetting one thing,’ Victoria said with a sigh, before Hattie could answer. ‘We’re in mourning, I can’t find a husband if we’re locked away for six months as we were when mother died.’
The rattle of Hattie’s cup hitting the table, the splash of tea over the edges pooling in the saucer made the other three Snape Ladies turn their attentions back to their sister. Hattie glared at Victoria as she pulled her legs from under her and sat forward. ‘You were locked away,’ she spat, and Victoria recoiled from the heat within her words. ‘I was shipped off to school in Guildford—remember? That’s how I know Roman, Jensen, Fiona and any of the others you want to try and jump into bed with.’
‘Hattie, we don’t mean it like that.’ Pippa tried to soothe their younger sibling as Victoria swallowed at the memory of watching the maids filling suitcases with Hattie’s clothes, and Hattie, still distraught from Mummy’s death, begging Daddy—literally on her knees in front of him—not to send her away. Victoria had argued with him for months afterwards, pleading with him to bring her home, but it had all fallen on deaf ears.
‘I’m sorry,’ Victoria whispered.
Hattie sniffed, throwing her curly hair over her shoulder and turning her face away slightly, but Victoria swore she caught the shimmer of unshed tears in her eyes.
‘You’re head of the house now, Tori’—Victoria glared at Pippa’s use of an endearment she hadn’t heard in years—‘Victoria, sorry. But I am right; you’re head of the house, you set the mourning period for us. If you only want a month—’
‘Two weeks,’ Hattie said, refusing to meet anyone’s gaze as she stood up. ‘I say two weeks and we just get on with it. I’ve never understood such a stupid tradition anyway,’ she informed them as she moved towards the door. Pippa’s butler, Giles, appeared without prompting, with her coat ready. ‘He’s gone, we’re not, let’s keep going.’
‘Hattie, please—’
‘Two weeks, Victoria,’ Hattie said as she fastened her coat, still not meeting her sisters’ eyes. ‘I’ll see you in fifteen days at Dick’s birthday celebration.’ And with that, she turned and left the room, leaving the remaining three sisters to stare after her.
‘Wow,’ Alexi said as she put her own cup back on the table between them. ‘She’s still pissed at Daddy for sending her away.’
‘Wouldn’t you have been?’ Victoria asked, staring after her departed sister. As Pippa shifted in her seat and Alexi coughed politely, Victoria knew she was asking the wrong sisters; Pippa had done everything she could to keep up with Hattie’s intellect, desperate to get on the same programme as the thirteen-year-old and failing, while Alexi had felt like a prisoner within the walls of Renfrew Hall at just six years old, all her friends forbidden to come and play with her.
‘Fine.’ Victoria’s cup rattled as she put it carelessly on the table and shoved it away from her before she, too, stood up to leave. ‘Two weeks from now. I’ll see you all at the birthday celebrations.’
‘Victoria wait—’
‘Oh, come on—’
Pippa and Alexi’s cries fell on deaf ears as she left without even waiting for her coat.
The roar of the crowds from beyond the gates below was thunderous as the large glass doors, leading to the balcony of the Grand Palace, slid open. Victoria and her three sisters stepped out onto the stone terrace, the lowest-ranking members of the Royal Family always the first to face the cheering crowds on public holidays. Victoria wanted to shrink back, to recoil and hide from the horde below. She spied the telescopic cameras atop the news platforms in the middle of the filled boulevard that led to the palace gates.
She didn’t see any flashes from them—pointless at such a distance—but she knew they were eagerly snapping away at the foursome as they confidently strode into public again after just two weeks of mourning, the shortest in the Royal Family’s history. She knew the event was being broadcast live, that homes across the nation—and the world—would be watching their appearance on their television screens with newscasters voicing aloud the question they were all thinking; surely it was too soon for the four Snape Ladies to be here. Even the most die-hard of royalists out there, knowing how important the King’s ninetieth birthday celebration was to the nation as the world’s longest-reigning monarch, would find their short-lived mourning period distasteful. But while Victoria would love to settle into a long, traditional time away from the world’s prying eyes, come tomorrow she had to get ready to start seeking a husband.
Of course, the world would never know it was actually Daddy’s fault they’d had to break with tradition. They’d never know he was forcing his daughters to marry and breed, and that by his stupid time frame he was forcing his eldest to marry someone who’d amount to nothing more than a stranger.
She internally cringed at the thought of what the press were going to say over the next few months. Her father dies and only a fortnight later she’s off courting any Tom, Dick, or Harry. She fought off wrinkling her nose; she’d have to get her secretary to cross off anyone on the list with such names. Best to avoid giving the press any easy headlines.
The cheering started again, rowdier and louder than it had been before as the four of them reached the solid stone railing and into full view.
Victoria waved at those below, her sisters on either side, before they split into pairs; she and Alexi moving to the right, and Pippa and Hattie to the left to make way for Jane, Louise, Elizabeth, and Hugh, the next rung up on the royal ladder.
Each set of her younger cousins would appear, immediately followed by their parents, with Prince Alistair of Avalone and the Grand Duke and Duchess making their appearance just before the King.
Although today’s holiday was an extra special event, all public holidays were graced with the presence of the Royal Family; the people of Avalone were loyal to the monarchy and proud of their heritage and history. They boasted they were the only country with a true ruling monarchy left in Europe, leaving other kings and queens merely puppets of their respective states, figureheads with no real purpose other than to be national trinkets, rolled out to play nice to those with power when they visited their country; courtiers, in their own home, courtesans for their politicians.
And while royal houses had changed throughout Europe over the centuries—Britain had gone through the House of Tudor to the current house of Buckingham, passing through many European branches on the way—the House of Grey had ruled Avalone since the sixteenth century when Queen Jane had been spirited away from the chopping block under the orders of the future Queen Elizabeth of England.
Victoria had always shared these feelings; proud her nation stood tall and still carried the true blood of kings and queens in their veins. She just wished she weren’t so directly part of the establishment, that she could be one of the people who stood outside the gates, enjoying it jubilantly and unaware of the ins and outs of the infighting of the family, ignorant of its flaws and traditions. She wasn't sure her grandfather knew she was aware of the unspoken traditions, of the secret they'd hidden away for hundreds of years. But she did know, and once she’d found out, she’d promised she’d keep it hidden from her siblings, protecting them from the audacity of it all. She also knew if her sisters found out the true depths their family would go to, to maintain the status quo of their perfection in the eyes of the public, the secrets would be spilt.
Hell, Hattie would shout them from the balcony, screaming to the crowd below at the top of her lungs, consequences be damned.
Victoria shifted her eyes, casting a glance at her sister across the terrace. Hattie held the prescribed shadow of a smile as she waved at the crowds, but her glassy and vacant gaze showed she was far from the proceedings. Victoria held back the sigh she wanted to heave. Ever since Hattie had been half-dragged away to Guildford University, there had been a distance between the third Snape sister and the rest of them. Nothing Victoria tried had worked, and the rift had only intensified every time Hattie was made to attend a royal function or event. Victoria was sure that if Hattie was given the option, she’d cut herself off from every member of her family—including her sisters—and hide away somewhere with just her computer and an internet connection so she could work.
Victoria was brought back to the moment as the cheering became those hysterical screams of excitement that only a woman could make when their heartthrob entered their view. Without glancing back, Victoria knew her cousin Alistair had stepped into sight. The Prince of Avalone, second in line to the throne, had tickled the fancy of many a woman from his teenage years. His pictures had become pin-up posters in teenage magazines growing up, much to his chagrin, and endless amusement and jealousy from his other cousins. At twenty-eight years old and still unmarried, there were always rumours of who his wife and future queen would be.
Victoria’s heart ached for her younger cousin, trapped more than she was by the bindings of royalty and unable to do a thing about it without dire consequences for the nation’s stability. He’d often come to her drunk, spilling secrets she knew their grandfather would hang anyone else for revealing and confessing how he hated everything about his lineage and the trappings it came with, that he’d give up the crown and everything it came with for a normal, simple life.
But she had no time to dwell on the misfortune her favourite cousin had in his future; in a few moments, after the Grand Duke appeared, the chants of God Save The King would start and she’d have to face her grandfather for the first time in months. He hadn’t even had the decency to attend her father's funeral.
Victoria felt the grind of her teeth sliding over one another as the chants began. The hand at her side, hidden from the view of the crowds below by the stone balustrade, curled tightly into a fist. Although His Majesty was always the focus of such events, he never showed himself to the rest of the family before he entered the balcony.
Running the country means there isn’t time for standing around and making idle chit-chat, her mother had once explained when Victoria had been but a tiny child at her first public holiday and asked where her grandfather was. Up until the moment he walks through those doors, he’s being told information about the country and being asked what everyone else should do.
And what should everyone do, Mummy? she’d enquired in her innocence.
Whatever the King says, her mother had said, standing up and smoothing down her dress before they had walked onto the balcony, her tiny hand clenched in her mother’s.
She heard the low whistle from one of the footmen announcing the King’s arrival, and just like a trained dog, she turned to face the grand doors before dropping into a low curtsy and holding it.
‘My bloody knees,’ Alexi said, her voice a quiet whisper to Victoria’s ear, but Victoria knew her sister was shouting to be heard over the roar of the crowd. ‘I swear when I’m a queen, I will never make anyone do this for such a stupid amount of time. A short dip will be plenty long enough.’
Victoria gently knocked her sister’s elbow, silently warning her to keep her thoughts to herself, especially at such a public event.
‘Oi!’ Alexi sounded indignant but returned the nudge with one of her own. If Victoria hadn’t been practising her pose every night before bed for the last fortnight, knowing she was well out of practice, she would have fallen over.
The King’s arrival at the balustrade was the cue for the family to rise from their prolonged bows and curtsies and return to the attention of the masses far below, and Victoria was able to turn to her sister and drop her words directly into her ear. ‘Queens never complain in public. It isn’t dignified.’
She didn’t wait for a response, turning back to the crowds and the news outlets with their prying cameras and recording equipment, but from the corner of her eye she saw Alexi's chin rise ever so slightly. The serene ghost of a smile Victoria had taught her siblings years ago brushed her perfectly painted lips. Victoria didn't for one moment believe Alexi would ever actually become a queen, but if she did have the good fortune to have her wish granted, Victoria believed she’d make the picture-perfect consort beside her husband.
‘We shouldn't even be here,’ she heard Alexi say anyway, and knew her sister was trying to get a rise out of her. She always did once she was put in her place.
But in this instance, her sister was right; they should be in their homes mourning their father’s death, no matter how much Hattie and he had butted heads. Or that he thought his eldest needed a man to come along and take care of her. Or that he forbade Alexi to follow the royal circuit despite her desires. Or that he always showed his disappointment in Pippa for wanting to start her own business rather than entering his… Victoria mentally sighed. No matter all that, they should still be there, mourning their father. But right now, this was their lot in life, and unless she found a husband, this would be it for the rest of hers.
Chapter Two
The world started to tilt as Victoria all but stumbled across the car park, trying to get away from Simon. The man had been a buffoon all evening, a horrible chauvinistic pig, who thought he was God’s gift to the planet, and for that reason alone, was owed everything he wanted in life. She was going to kill Alexi when she got home.
If she got home.
That thought scared the living daylights out of her and spurred her shaking legs on. But, as she heard her pursuer huffing and puffing as he tried to move his heavy frame as fast as he could to catch up to her, she realised such a horrible sentiment might become reality.
Fine, she’d haunt her sister’s arse and whatever palace the damn wannabe-queen ended up in. She hoped it was small and cold, with an army of ghosts she could sway to terrorise her youngest sibling.
‘Victoria! Wait!’ Simon called out. She sent a prayer of thanks to the Heavens that even as messed up as her head was, she was able to outrun him. Although, she wasn’t sure for how much longer.
What in God’s name had he done to her? Why was her head so screwy? It had to be something he’d done as she’d purposefully only had one glass of wine and that had been with her meal, so she couldn’t be drunk. She certainly didn’t feel-
Her vision went blurry, and she staggered to the left as the world decided to tip to one side without warning… Although, that might be because her head suddenly felt too heavy for her neck and it decided it wanted to meet the floor. Luckily, a car broke her fall.
Her hands slammed onto the bonnet of the vehicle first, stopping her body from smashing into it, but not from collapsing on top of the cold, hard metal, and setting off the car’s alarm.
The blearing, screaming siren startled her mind, clearing the fog just enough so she could turn herself over and get back to her feet. But it was a short-lived effect; the world started to dim again as she spied her pursuer’s super-sized frame stop under a streetlight not far from her.
