His footsteps echoed through the quiet hallways as the Viscount strode toward his study. It sat at the far end of the mansion, beside his bedchambers, far removed from the chaos of the household. Even the slightest noise irritated him, and it was far worse when he was either sleeping or working.
Rolling his neck, Vincent pushed the door open and walked in. His coat swung off his shoulders and landed on the rack by the door.
From the corner of his eye, he caught movement near his desk. Vincent turned, watching—dare he say it—his friend flipping through the documents laid out on the table.
"Why are you here, Gabe?" he asked lazily, collapsing onto the red couch and swinging his legs over the side table beside it.
Gabe returned the papers to their original position. "You've gone far with reviewing these documents."
"I have," Vincent replied. "You should take over the rest if you're so invested in my work."
Gabe chuckled as he moved around the table and took a seat on the opposite couch. "I shall pass on that."
"Very well."
Clearing his throat, Gabe leaned forward. "I usually have foresight into your plans, but this time, I'm completely in the dark."
Vincent arched a brow. "What do you mean?"
"That woman," Gabe said pointedly. "I cannot, for the love of the gods, understand why she is still in this house. What is it you're not telling me?"
The Viscount smiled faintly. "You think too much, Gabe. There's no grand lore behind keeping her here. She's merely a source of entertainment—for now."
"It still makes no sense," Gabe countered. "You haven't entertained a woman in as long as I can remember. Why now?" His eyes narrowed.
Vincent chuckled lightly. "Dear gods, Gabe, you needn't remind me of my celibacy. I'm fully aware of it." He dropped his legs to the floor. "Like I said, there's no grand plan."
"If you say so," Gabe replied, unconvinced. "But I must mention that I do not trust her. She reeks of serious trouble."
"Ah, wonderful," Vincent said with a grin. "I'm always ready for good trouble."
Gabe studied him in silence for a few seconds before speaking again. "Your father seeks your attention. This is the tenth invitation you've ignored this week."
"And the old fool persists," Vincent muttered. "What does he want this time?"
"He didn't say. But he's threatening to have you arrested and dragged to his house if you refuse again."
Vincent laughed. "Another empty threat. Gods, that man has the brain of a dead frog."
"So," Gabe asked, "are you going or not?"
Vincent considered it briefly. "I'm in the mood to piss someone off. Might as well be him." He rose to his feet. "I'll be back soon. Watch over my guest, and try not to frighten her with your growling."
Gabe frowned. "What growling? I don't growl. And I'm not half as frightening as you are. If she can tolerate you, she'll manage with me just fine."
"We shall continue this discussion later. The excitement of ruining my father's day is overwhelming," he added with a pleased sigh before walking out of the study.
~~~
The ride to his father's house took about thirty minutes. Vincent jumped out of the carriage the moment it came to a halt. His eyes swept over the entire building. It was twice the size of his own, built in dark colors that reminded him of a cemetery.
He sighed and made his way through the entrance, the guards bowing their heads in respect. As he stepped into the sitting area, a short, plump man hurried toward him. It was the butler—Edwards.
"My lord, welcome," the man greeted with an overly broad smile.
Vincent almost rolled his eyes. All these performative courtesies irritated him. He was well aware that most members of this household despised him. Their lady made sure of that with her endless tales about him and his mother.
He was, admittedly, impressed by the exaggeration of her stories. He had once heard that she claimed he had murdered over a hundred children by burning them alive in an orphanage. That was rather preposterous, considering he had only visited one once when he was seven. After that, he had never stepped foot in an orphanage, in or outside Nox. He could only wonder how such a rumor came to be.
"Where is my father?" he asked.
"He is in his study. Please sit, I shall call—"
"There will be no need for that." Vincent was already heading toward the staircase when the butler hurried in front of him.
"My lord, I shall inform him of your presence. You don't need—"
Vincent took a step closer, and the man instinctively retreated. "I said there will be no need for that. Now move."
The coldness in his voice made the butler shrink back in fear. He didn't need to be told twice. He quickly moved out of the Viscount's path.
Vincent continued up the stairs and down the hallway until he stood before his father's study. Without knocking, he barged in, swinging the door so hard it slammed against the wall.
His father barely reacted to the sudden intrusion, but his mistress, Serena, jumped to her feet, a hand flying to her chest.
Vincent smirked at her reaction.
"Oh my gods! Where are your manners, Vincent?" she exclaimed, trying to calm her nerves.
Ignoring her, he turned to his father. "You called for me. It better be important, as I would hate to waste my precious time."
His father's eyes lazily shifted to him. "You should apologize to your stepmother. You frightened her."
Vincent made himself comfortable on a lone couch. "Ah, pigs are flying now," he said mockingly.
His father's jaw twitched.
Vincent leaned forward, his eyes locked on his father. "Leave us, Selena. I wish to speak to Tarlath alone."
The woman stiffened, her eyes widening. "What?!"
Vincent's gaze snapped to her. "You heard me. Leave. Us."
Selena opened her mouth to protest, but Tarlath beat her to it.
"Please excuse us, dear. I will call for you when we're done," he said softly.
She swallowed her anger, shooting the Viscount a sharp glare before storming out of the study.