Page 14 of Born Free

Orlando smirks and his eyes drop down the length of Elena. He gets this smirk, one that says he likes what he sees. “Fair enough. Why don’t you all come join us?”

Cautiously, we all follow Orlando to the lounge. There’s already a man with his fangs sunk into a woman’s neck. Her eyes are just barely open, a zoned-out look on her face. Another vampire woman is laughing at a human man as she trails her fingers up and down his chest.

Gross.

Orlando sinks down into a chair, his arms spread out, the picture of relaxation. Roman and I sit on the couch across from him, the others settling beside us.

“I have to say, so far, I like Chicago,” Orlando says as a woman walks by him, skimming her hand down his chest. He looks up at her with hunger, with a look of predatory possession. “You hear about the crime, the danger here, but so far, I find it to be a very friendly place.”

“Might want to be careful,” I speak up, because I can’t help it, “the STD rates in this city are on the rise.”

“Good to know. Thank you, Doctor,” he says with a smile that’s bordering on condescending. “I did some digging on you, by the way. Congrats on the takeover of the hospital. Pretty impressive you got away with Sebastian Vincent’s disappearance. Gotta say, I’m a little confused why you and he didn’t work out. On paper, it looked like a match made in heaven.”

My skin is crawling. I hate that this man I distrust with every hair on my body has looked me up. I hate that everyone in the world thinks the same thing about Sebastian and me. Because in the end, it all went down in flames and nearly caused a second Chicago fire.

“Some people can’t be taken at face value,” I say, leaning back, mirroring Orlando’s pose of calm and ease. “We’ll see how you shake out, Orlando Badillo.”

“She’s damn perfect for you, brother,” Orlando says with a smirk in Roman’s direction. “Guess I understand why things didn’t work out, doctor on doctor.”

“Sebastian is a despicable coward who will be dealt with—severely—as ,soon as he’s tracked down,” Roman says, his jaw tight.

“You know,” Orlando continues, and how I’d like to erase that smirk from his face permanently, “I just caught it. Roman, which, by the way, I think it hilarious you went by that name for twenty-four years, goes and falls in love with Juliet. How damn poetic.”

Orlando put it together in twenty-four hours, yet it took me three months to put Archer King’s prophesy together. He’d said I had the chance to correct one of the world’s most well-known tragedies. Romeo and Juliet never crossed my mind until last night.

Is Roman ever going to ask Orlando about the origins of the alias Roman De Luca? I kind of doubt it. He’s said he has no interest in knowing who he was, and so far, he’s not asking Orlando any questions to solve the mystery of his past.

“We’re all very entertained by the irony,” Jon grits out, sounding the exact opposite of amused. “I think we’d all like to stop beating around the bush. You found Roman’s booking photo. Can we assume that means you’ve been looking for him?”

Orlando’s eyes slide over to Jon, and some of the humor slips from his gaze. “Only since the day he took off from the House. It’s pretty impressive, actually, in this day and age, that he’s managed to keep any photos of himself off the web.”

He’s got resources, then. Scanning the entire internet for one face is a massive endeavor. Orlando found Roman’s face in eight days or less.

Jon nods in acknowledgement. “So, can we assume you’re here in Chicago to collect your brother and take him back to Spain?”

“Not necessarily,” Orlando answers straight, surprising me. He takes a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and places one between his lips. He produces a lighter and lights it.

Definitely not allowed to smoke in this building.

But what would a freaking Royal care?

“Then I think we’d all like to hear the answer as to what you’re here for, then?” Elena asks.

Orlando takes a long drag before draping his arm, flicking the butt. “You all seem very on edge, you realize that?”

Shit.

He’s way too damn observant. The way he’s keeping an eye on Tabitha and Patrick, I wonder if he has realized they’re bodyguards.

“What is it anyone’s concern if I travel anywhere I feel like being a tourist?” he asks, narrowing his eyes at Elena. “Would you be so concerned if I were to visit Atlanta? Los Angeles? Seattle?”

“Well, I don’t live in any of those cities, so perhaps not,” she points out, her own eyes narrowed. “And the long-lost brother of a Royal hasn’t been residing in those cities, now has he?”

“You’re used to telling people what to do, aren’t you?” Orlando points out, taking another hit from his cancer stick.

He didn’t have the Godfreys names until just a few minutes ago, so he couldn’t have dug into Elena or Mason. He’s just reading it off of her presence. And he’s not wrong.

“People generally answer my questions when I ask them,” she counters, not backing down for a second.

---