Chapter 4 - The Brother in the Shadows
The honeymoon glow of the gala lasted until two o'clock the following afternoon, when Penelope wandered out to the estate’s sprawling conservatory. The glass-domed greenhouse was filled with rare orchids, towering ferns, and the earthy, comforting scent of damp soil.
She had spent the morning working on wedding cake designs on her sketchpad, her mind spinning with vanilla bean buttercreams and lemon curd fillings. She missed her kitchen. She missed the simple, honest alchemy of flour and yeast.
"You have a delicate touch with charcoal," a soft voice spoke from behind a wall of hanging ferns.
Penelope jumped, dropping her pencil.
Standing near the fountain was a young man who shared Cassian's dark hair, but none of his brutal width. Where Cassian was stone and iron, this man was willow and watercolor. He wore a loose linen shirt, dark trousers, and an expression of melancholy that seemed pulled from a nineteenth-century painting. He had the same piercing eyes, but instead of winter ice, they were the color of bruised plums.
Julian Mercer.
Cassian's warning echoed in her ears with the force of an alarm siren: You do not, under any circumstances, ever speak to my half-brother, Julian.
Penelope immediately knelt to retrieve her pencil, keeping her gaze firmly on the terracotta tiles. She began packing her sketchbook into her bag, turning her back on him to walk toward the main terrace exit.
"You don't have to flee, Penelope," Julian said, his voice soft, almost pleading. "I know he forbade you from speaking to me. He tells every woman the same thing. He builds these ridiculous walls because he's terrified anyone might see what he really is."
Penelope froze. She did not turn around, but her feet refused to take the next step.
"I know what happened to your bakery," Julian continued quietly, his footsteps coming closer, stopping a respectful six feet away. "I know about Eddie Marlow. Cassian didn't just stumble upon your debt, Penelope. He bought Eddie Marlow's entire loan-sharking operation three weeks ago. He created the leverage, and then he swooped in like a white knight to save you."
Her heart skipped a violent beat. He bought Eddie's operation?
"Don't listen to his fairy tales," Julian whispered, stepping into her peripheral vision. There was a desperate sincerity in his pale face. "Cassian is ruthless. He destroyed our father. When my mother fell ill, he locked her out of the estate trust until it was too late. He keeps me here under house arrest with an allowance because if I speak to the federal authorities, his entire shipping empire collapses. He doesn't love you, Penelope. He's using your purity as human shield against an indictment."
Penelope felt the room spinning. "I cannot speak to you," she said, her voice trembling. "Please, step aside."
"I only want to help you," Julian begged, holding out a small folded slip of paper. "Take this. It’s the direct number to Special Prosecutor Warren's personal secure line. If you feel trapped, if he turns violent, call him. Warren has safe houses. Don't let Cassian break you like he broke the rest of us."
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Penelope stared at the paper. The urge to know the truth warred with the memory of Cassian’s warm hand on her waist, his quiet declaration that she was beautiful, and the steady protection he had offered against Warren’s sneer.
Without taking the paper, she turned on her heel and hurried out of the conservatory, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird.
