Page 16 of Out of Office Nights
Shedared to mock him.
Bitterness swelled in his gut. Hypocrites. Every last one of them would jump at the chance to experience a slice of his life even while clutching their metaphorical pearls.
‘Your Majesty…is that the right way to address you?’ the far too shrill voice had asked, jarring him out of his internal reviling.
‘Not quite.’
Alarm had darted across her face at his curt tone, but she’d rallied admirably. ‘Well, I was just saying I’m having a few friends over at my place for drinks. You should join us.’ She’d leaned even closer, flaunting a shameless amount of cleavage, with copious amounts of eyelash batting should he be thick enough to miss the extras on offer. ‘You can teach me the correct way to address you.’
Her after-parties were renowned for delivering the right amount of debauchery that would wipe his mind clean of every scrap of disgruntlement and bitterness he’d endured in the last twenty-four hours.
And yet his usual rousing rejoinder had raced to the tip of his tongue, only to wither and die an agitated death. Not even the promise of oblivion was enough to sway him.
Pasting on a smile that only had her eyelashes fluttering faster, he’d disentangled himself from her surprisingly tenacious hold.
‘Not tonight, my sweet. You will need to find someone else to tutor you in the art of courting royalty.’
Before her disappointment had fully formed on her face, he’d turned away and was striding towards the door.
At least one thing had been successful. With that gown Sabeen had so stunningly modelled, his competitors were primed for another excellent trouncing. He’d ignored the envious glances cast his way, the sycophants eager to blow smoke up his behind.
He was running out of time to salvage at least one crumb of the respect and acknowledgement due to him. His father couldn’t leave this earth without acknowledging his youngest son’s value. And Teo intended to earn that praise if it was the last thing he did.
But first, he had his and Valenti’s birthday party to attend.
‘To wild oats and mummy issues. The first brought us into the world, and the second has kept us on our toes and made us the men we are.’
Valenti, his twin by a handful of minutes, and Azar, their older brother, exchanged puzzled looks before eyeing him suspiciously.
‘I’m way too young to be losing my marbles, but I could’ve sworn you made the same exact toast last year,’ King Azar said with a wink.
Teo smirked. ‘So?’
‘So you can’t even be bothered to find new words now?’ Valenti drawled, the corner of his mouth almost curling up, but his expression was as militant and bored as it had been since Teo could remember. He was almost certain his twin had been born looking intensely dissatisfied with the world. Not even the old man’s continued expressions of pride could ease Valenti’s perennial bad mood. In some ways he envied his brother. Valenti had his walls so heavily fortified not even a sliver of emotion bled through. Whereashelately seemed to be haemorrhaging bitterness and rancour.
He shook his head then realised his brothers were still staring at him with various degrees of baffled amusement. Digging deep for his suddenly elusive joie de vivre, he plastered a smile in place. ‘Why mess with a good thing? If I recall, it was just right after my toast last year that you saw your future wife, no?’
Azar’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Are you telling me you’re looking for a wife on your birthday?’
‘Hell, no,’ he denied, the very idea making an itch scramble beneath his skin.
The King of Cartana swirled his cognac, grinning—a habit he’d taken to far too often since his marriage—as he eyed Teo.
‘If I remember correctly, that female journalist you dated a while back quoted you as saying that you’d rather pluck your eyeballs out and use them as golf balls than settle down. Am I right?’
He had indeed said that, but for some reason, having his words quoted back to him grated, the disgruntlement that resided far too close to the surface, dragging sharp talons over his skin.
So what if he was firmly against the trappings of matrimony? Could anyone blame him? The risk of inviting even a fraction ofthe acrimony he’d witnessed between his parents into his life left him stone-cold.
Azar was newly married and entrenched firmly in his honeymoon phase. Teo was happy for him and Eden and for their relationship with the beautiful son whose existence Azar hadn’t known about until a year ago. His nephew was a cute little devil. His sister-in-law was equally decent. But that was where Teo intended his feelings on attachment or permanence to end.
‘Since you seem out of sorts, allow me to make the toast this year. It is your and Valenti’s birthday after all.’
Before Teo could protest, Azar raised his glass, the wicked glint in his eye making the hair on Teo’s nape stand up on end. Slanting a glance sideways, he saw that Valenti was equally tense, as if he, too, suspected he wouldn’t like what was coming.
‘To immersing yourselves completely into the still and deep waters ahead, and emerging triumphant with the greatest prize of all.’
‘What the hell kind of toast is—?’
