The Ruthless Heir

JUDGE’s [POV]

My room is beside Erica’s. I enter, shut the door and strip off the ruined clothes. Lois, the housekeeper in charge of running the household, will let me know if we can salvage it. I doubt it, but I’ll leave it for her. From my pocket, I retrieve Erica’s panties. I don’t know why I took them. The lace is soft in my hand. The scent was subtle. Her scent.

There’s that image of her again. On her knees. Squirming between my thighs.

Fuck.

I shove the panties into the nightstand drawer and take a cold shower, then put on dark jeans and a dark cashmere sweater. After checking the time, I walk out of my room, only pausing momentarily when I pass by Erica’s room. I’m surprised it’s quiet.

The house is lit by warm, golden light. I descend the stairs, and as I pass the windows in the foyer overlooking the main drive, I’m reminded of the beauty of this place. The oaks stood grand, the wide drive seeming to go on for miles.

I walk into the kitchen, and from one corner, my four beasts raise their heads from their lazy slumber and, excited, come to greet me. I smile. The sight of them is one of the few things that make me smile these days.

“Boys. I hope you haven’t been giving Lois too hard a time,” I say, looking up at the housekeeper from my crouched position. Lois has been with my family for as long as I can remember, and she’s too old to chase after four very energetic Dobermans.

“They’ve been fine,” Lois says, coming over from the sink to pet Pestilence. “This one, though. Stealing food from the counter again.”

“I thought Famine would do that,” I say, petting Pestilence’s face, then taking it in my hands. “Don’t make me put you outside.”

He whines as if he understands and gives Lois puppy eyes.

She smiles, shaking her head. “Thinks he can get away with anything with those eyes.”

“He can with you,” I say, straightening. “Thanks for taking care of them while Paolo is out.” Paolo trains and exercises the dogs, but he’s been out sick for a few days.

“No problem, Judge. You know I don’t mind. Dinner is almost ready.”

I nod. “When my mother arrives, get her a drink. I need to make a call before I join her.”

“What about the dogs? You know how she feels about them.”

I glance at the four of them. Pestilence, War, Famine, and Death. Dramatic, I know. My brother named them. They’re five years old now. Pestilence is licking the last of the food remaining in all four bowls while the other three play with a toy.

“Leave them.”

Lois raises her eyebrows. “Are you sure?”

“She has to get used to them, and quite frankly, she invited herself, so I’m not inclined to make accommodations for her.”

“And Ms. De La Rosa… I set a place for the three of you in the dining room.”

“Ms. De La Rosa will be dining in her room. Miriam has already taken a tray up. You don’t need to worry about her.”

Lois studies me. “Miriam?”

“Is there a problem with Miriam?”

“It’s just they didn’t quite get along last time Ms. De La Rosa was our guest.”

“Hm. I guess they too will have to get used to each other.” I can just about picture how that’s going.Material © NôvelDrama.Org.

Lois doesn’t like Miriam, but not many of the staff seem to. I get it. And part of me wonders if I should have left her upstairs with Erica. If I should have done what I did because Erica’s pride will be been wounded. But then I remember the ruined suit. A little humility may be good for her. I have no doubt she’ll survive.

Besides, other things are more important. Like where those scars came from.

I leave the kitchen and go to my study. This room has become my dark sanctuary with mahogany wood paneling, a black marble fireplace, and heavy, antique furnishings that date back over a hundred years. The smell of cigar smoke still clings to the walls from the time my grandfather, Carlisle Montgomery, used to occupy this space. I stop to take in the portrait of him. He’s alone in this one. In the living room is another with my grandfather, grandmother and my father painted when he was fifteen years old. He looks like me, my grandfather. Or do I look like him? Exactly like him.

Shifting my gaze, I put the thought out of my head. I am not my grandfather.

I walk around the large desk, glancing out of the windows into the garden. Warm lights showcase the large swimming pool, the curving patio with its three separate seating areas, and pots and pots of flowering plants. Beyond it, a path curves toward the stables that house my horses. Past those stables, and not visible from the house, are the cottages once used by staff. Some still are, and some are empty. My mother lives in one. She moved out of the main house after my father’s death.

I sit down in the worn leather chair and lean back. It’s been six months since my grandfather’s death, but it’s still sometimes hard to grasp that he’s gone. That the house, its contents, the stables, the horses, and the grounds are all mine.

Theron’s dark eyes meet mine from the framed photo on the edge of the desk. Theron is my younger brother. He’s been gone for years. Left the night of his twenty-fifth birthday. He’ll be back soon enough, though, now that grandfather is gone. He has to return. I cut off his allowance, so he’ll show his face. And then we can have our reckoning.

But now isn’t the time to think of them.

My mind returns to the woman upstairs. To how she’d looked this morning when I’d walked into her room after my ride. How she cast her eyes down submissively only after staring open-mouthed as if she’d never seen a man bare-chested before. Although perhaps she hasn’t. Society’s rules are strict for women, especially those of her standing.

Another image comes into focus then. The one that had me jerking off in the shower this morning. That of Ericas facedown ass up. The one of her from behind with everything exposed to me.

A low rumble comes from my chest. I draw in a deep breath and adjust myself.

Self-control. She’ll test me. Just as I will test her.

I make myself think about the scars. Imagine what she endured when I remember her comment about pain not bothering her. No, I guess you learn to take it when you’re beaten so badly that you’re left that damaged. That broken. She has hidden them for years. I want to know what happened to her and when. They’re old, so I believe that it wasn’t Santiago. And, truth be told, I am relieved. Santiago is a ruthless man, but he would never harm his sister. He loves her.

Was it Lorenzo De La Rosa, her father? Or Leandro, her brother. Two men who would have had access to her beat her so brutally. Because this isn’t something she would have walked away from. Hell, she wouldn’t have been able to walk at all for days, if not weeks.

Lorenzo’s hard-to-face floats into memory. He was a cruel man. I’ve heard some of the stories, the ones Santiago has shared. And even if I hadn’t, I’ve seen his form of discipline. Santiago and I grew up together. But he wouldn’t have laid a hand on his daughter, would he? Surely, he wouldn’t have beaten her badly enough to scar her?

I pick up one of the two phones on my desk and scroll through my contacts to dial Santiago. He picks up on the second ring.

“Judge. How are things?” I hear the concern in his voice. No matter what Erica thinks, he is worried about her.

“As well as can be expected.”

“Is she all right?”

“She’s adjusting.”

“Hmm.”

“I have a question,” I start, but something stops me from asking the one I want to ask. No, not something. Someone. Erica. Her face when I threatened to tell Santiago. She’s desperate he doesn’t find out.

“Go on,” Santiago says when I pause for too long.

I clear my throat, then pick up the second phone on my desk. “The password to Erica’s phone. Do you have it?”

“Yes. I’ll text it to you. You’ll take care of anything between her and this woman?”

“I give you my word. Nothing will get back to The Tribunal that can hurt her.”

“I can do it myself. You don’t need to be involved.”

“I think you have enough on your plate, don’t you?”