Possessive Royal (Duke of Tudor #2) Read Online Amarie Avant

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary Tags Authors: Series: Duke of Tudor Series by Amarie Avant
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Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 75589 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
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“Lux, stop being so ornery like your mother and speak,” her father snaps.

Luxury’s light brown eyes spark. “Okay, Dad. Let’s talk about your best friend, Uncle Red.”

I stop myself from slapping the gullible girl.

“He came into the hospital room. Saw that Dad was hurt and hugged me. Uncle Red said something funny! No, I can’t remember exactly what, but he has a fucking knack for making me smile for the past twenty-three years of my life! Actually, let me stop. I won’t do him any favors. I can’t recall being a newborn baby. My oldest memory of him making me laugh I was three.”

Whitson chortles. “I’m sure he loves you too.”

“Don’t be sarcastic, Dad. He’s never had anything but a kind word to say to me.”

“Sure,” Jonah mumbles.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that you’re going to Europe. It also means that Charles loves you, Lux. Just as much as he loved your mother.”

“Dad, you agree with Victor that Charles murdered my mother. Now you’re saying he loves me the same as Gina?” She shrugs. “Did you double-dip into the pain meds today?”

“Love and hate are the opposite ends of the same spectrum. Intense emotion. Foolishness, if you ask me.”

“Oh, break it down to plain English for me, Dad!” Luxury lengthens her stance.

Discounting her, Jonah glares at me. “Victor, when will you two be leaving for Arlington?”

“Dad, really?”

“Today,” I respond. Once Luxury’s out of the line of fire, I’ll return and glean the truth from Whitson.

“Dad, please. Talk to me.” She goes for Jonah’s hands again, but he tucks them beneath his folded arms. Placing a hand on her bicep, I start to lead her away.

“Maybe we need to have a family discussion. Victor, give us a moment,” she groans. Luxury places her hand over mine to lessen my touch.

Still gripping her, my tone lowers to a murmur, “He’s not receptive, Little One.”

Ignoring my assessment, Luxury asks, “Dad, who will take care of you, huh? We’ve been … a bit harsh with each other these past few months. I’m sorry, just talk to me.”

I settle Luxury down on the settee across the room while Jonah slowly rises. He doesn’t acknowledge her pleas. Instead, he heads in the opposite direction down the hall and toward his room.

“Victor, I have to get through to him. We argue. Always challenging each other, but something’s not right.”

“He needs time,” I reply, kneading her shoulder tenderly.

Abruptly, Luxury stands, padding over the floor. She erupts in a fury. “Dad and Uncle Red had a disagreement a few years ago. Fought over cardiological nonsense that I can’t begin to understand. But they’re fucking family!” She pauses from walking and instinctively drags her pearly white teeth over her bottom lip. “No, it’s the medicine. Victor, my father’s delusional.”

Delusional he is not—the wanka’s withholding vital information. “While we’re gone, Jonah will continue to have around-the-clock security. I’ll have chosen the proper live-in nurse here by the time you pack any mementos you’d like to take.”

Luxury groans, fluffing her curls pensively. “You might have everything under control, but I haven’t the slightest idea where my passport is. Also, how confident are you that we’ll find an international flight leaving for England this evening? And within my budget? Actually, my dad’s budget. I didn’t ask for this. I still have a monthly payment for Urban Gar—”

“Find your bloody passport, woman.” I encouragingly smack her arse. “I will help you.”

As Luxury ascends the steps, I dial Monica. “Get me a highly endorsed nurse in Brooklyn.”

“I’m to assume Brooklyn, New York, North America?” She sighs.

“Precisely.”

“When?”

“An hour. I’ll be home soon with very important company.” I take a deep sigh. Jonah put me in a difficult place by requesting Luxury’s removal.

“I see. Miss Whitson. Now, Victor, please clarify. Are you referring to home as in Arlington or Somerhaven?”

It takes every fiber in me to reply.

11

Luxury

Paranoid, I slowly drape Victor’s peacoat over the chair in my room. Assessing it with narrowed eyes, I scooch the coal-colored coat to the left, praying that’s the same position it had been in before I touched it. I step toward the dresser, where the gun I removed from the inside pocket awaits my next reckless decision.

Girl, you’re running out of time. I heft up the handgun. Power weighs heavily in my palm. Is it a Glock or a 9mm? Are those the same gun? I’ve seen them in the movies, a standard for the good guys and bad guys alike.

Cold.

Heavy.

Hard.

Surely, Victor has used this very weapon when taking lives. But the gun belongs to me now.

“This is for Momma.” I straighten my spine, sliding my index finger onto the trigger. “Okay, Luxxie, you only recall Uncle Red as someone you can go to for anything. Just talk to him and hope it doesn’t come to . . . this.”

I tell myself that bringing Victor’s gun is only a precautionary measure as I place it in the front pocket of my NYU hoodie and approach the window seat, which overlooks the fire escape. The wrought iron steps have almost dried from the morning rain, and the moonlight glints off the fencing.


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