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“Interesting gown choice, Granddaughter.”
Octavia takes a sip of her wine, taking her sweet ass time. She sets her glass down and turns to me. “What’s being served tonight?”
Bastian lets out a quick burst of laughter, and I have to tamp down my own, hiding my smirk. Grandfather bristles, slamming his glass on the table, but we all ignore him.
“Veal is being served tonight, angel.” Her lips turn down, grimacing in disgust. “Don’t worry, I’ve already asked them to make you a different dish. I believe Chef was going to prepare you some pasta,” I tell her, making her frown turn into a smile.
More waiters enter, placing a covered plate in front of each of us, removing the top with a flourish to reveal the meal. Octavia groans, leaning down to smell her creamy pasta, making the most delicious sound that has my cock hardening. I shift in my seat, catching Bastian out of the corner of my eye doing the same.
“I have not come to be ignored,” Grandfather snaps, grabbing his knife and fork, cutting violently into his veal. “Leave us,” he barks at the staff, and they scuttle away quickly.
Octavia twirls a bit of pasta on her fork, gazing up from her eyelashes, pursing her lips. “I’m sorry, Grandfather. I didn’t realise there was a question in that statement.Wasthere a question you wanted to ask about my gown?”
Bastian pauses with his drink midway to his lips, as stunned as I am at her retort. My angel has grown her talons. We wait to see what he’ll do, if his anger will rise and cause a scene, or if he will try the sugar sweet poison that he likes to lure people in with.
Turns out, it’s neither. He takes a bite out of his meat, humming at the taste. Octavia turns back to her food with a small, prideful smile, and I grasp her thigh, giving it a squeeze. We eat in silence for a few minutes. Bastian only takes a couple bites of the meat before turning his nose up at it, trying to steal Octavia’s pasta. I personally find it very delectable, but I think that has more to do with where I got it.
“How long have you been involved with your brothers, Octavia?” Grandfather asks, leaning back in his chair. “Or would you prefer I call them your boyfriends? They are certainly not your husbands, seeing as there have been no legal proceedings.”
She shrugs her shoulders, batting Bastian’s fork away as he goes in for another piece, rolling her eyes. “Either is fine.”
He opens his mouth to no doubt scold her, but I cut in, stopping whatever vile words were about to spew out.
“The legal proceedings will happen in the autumn, as per mylittle sister’srequest.” I smirk watching him grimace in distaste.
“The wedding,” he says, clutching his cutlery tight, “will take place in a month’s time, and it will be with the groom I’ve arranged. I planned to discuss it with your father before he went missing. I knew Octavia was sent away to correct her behaviour, and I thought this wedding would be a perfect permanent solution that wouldn’t put a stain on the Stone name.”
He sneers at her, cutting roughly into his meat, taking a big swig of drink to wash it down. Sweat starts to shine just slightly on his forehead, and he pulls at the neck of his shirt, loosening his tie.
“The only reason I did not stand in your way bringing her back was because I needed her to return. Don’t think I didn’t know allabout your scheming to bring your sister home and everyone you killed in the process. Don’t think-” He sputters, his sentence cut off as he coughs violently.
Octavia stops eating, and Bastian stops trying to steal her food, both of them shifting their focus to our grandfather. I lean back in my chair, taking another bite, savouring the surprisingly sweet taste.
“And don’t think I didn’t plan exactly for that.” I smirk, grabbing my glass, swirling the amber liquid.
“What…what is the meaning of this?” Grandfather coughs, grabbing his handkerchief. Blood splutters from his lips; it’s only a few speckles, but it will certainly be more extensive in a few more minutes.
“What’s happening?” He stands up from his chair, or at least tries to, before falling back down, his limbs growing weak. “Ramsey,” he bellows, as predictable as ever.
The door swings open, and Ghost walks through instead, carrying a silver serving tray with Ramsey’s head perfectly displayed on a bed of salad, an apple between his teeth.
“Jesus,” Octavia mutters under her breath, shaking her head.
Bastian smirks, keeping his gaze on our grandfather, not letting him out of his sight—just in case. He already knows the plan.
“Oh no, poor Ramsey seems to have had a minor accident,” Bastian says, putting his elbows on the table, resting his chin on his hands, pouting. “Guess that means no one was able to taste your food or drink. Huh, I sure hope no one did anything to it.”
“You stupid boys,” Grandfather wheezes, more sweat dripping down his head as he undoes his tie completely. “You are children playing a grown-up game. Ramsey isn’t…the only one I have in the manor.”
His eyes flick to Ghost, a smug smile on his face that falters as he places Ramsey’s head in front of him and walks away, right out the door.
“Ghost! Ghost, come back here this moment.” He bangs his fist on the table and hunches over in another coughing fit.
I take the moment to grab Octavia’s hand, an uncomfortable feeling settling in my stomach at the revelation I have to give next. I didn’t want her to find out; I planned on dealing with him alone so she would never know. I allowed a single flaw into my plan at him arriving early, and I will pay for that.
“I’m sorry about this part, angel. Forgive me.”
She gazes at me with a bewildered look, her brows pulling together, scrunching up her little nose. “For what?”
