It would be fair to say Papa Knight and I started off on the wrong foot. I’m glad he didn’t take my overreaction personally or let it stand in the way of building a relationship with me.
Did I wish things had been different?
Of course. I learned in the short time I’d gotten to know him, that I was a daddy’s girl. All my life I wanted this. I wasn’t going to mess it up. Already the seed of hope had sprung. A happy little image of us had sprouted in my mind and I promised to let nothing, and no one get in the way of my happiness. Now that my wrath had cooled and I was no longer out for blood.

All I wanted was a place to call home, a family.
Now I know you’re wondering, this must mean step-monster and her spawns warmed up to me, and we all became one big happy family.
Ha. Calistas hated my guts, while her mama and brother watched me like a pair of salivating jackals with their sights on a bony hare.  
If only I understood, at the time, how deep of a cesspool I’d stepped into agreeing to share a roof with these people.
The whole family was power hungry, archaic in their ways, and fight like dogs over the simplest disagreement. But I will say this, when it came to having each other’s backs against an enemy, you’ll not find a more tightly knit bunch.
I was an anomaly, a question mark in their ranks. Being under Papa Knight’s protection meant no one dared step out of line. They may stare, turned to curdled milk whenever I walked by, yet they kept their thoughts to themselves.

Shit, in the first week no one spoke to me at all. You’d think I’d cared, considering I decided to stay.
As an only child used to being on my own, their silence was a blessing. I didn’t have to feign interest in anything they had to say or fake a personality trying to impress them to prove I belonged. Every day I woke I kept it polite and stayed in my own lane. I wasn’t going to beg a single one of them to like me.
By the third week my greetings went from being met with the occasional grunt and silent nod to wordy acknowledgements and curious inquiries about my day, my life before I arrived. Papa’s siblings, specifically little Olida, Uncle Ash, and weirdly enough his uncle Tolrin—the Crow, took set on me like ticks on the backside of a fat warthog. Aunt Morana would watch and listen silently with her nose turned up; smiled whenever something amused her, but she never engaged.
She’d come around like the others; I told myself and left it at that.

“I want you to make an effort and meet Calista halfway,” Papa said one afternoon over a magical meal.
I paused, cutting into my chateaubriand roast. If you know anything about me, you’ll know I’m not a beef person. But my God, the tenderloin was impossibly tender.
“She hates me,” I said between chews as I reached for my glass of white wine. The steak melted in my mouth, and I took a sip to wash it down.
Papa set his fork down and leaned back against his chair. He hadn’t eaten much of his meal, picked a little at the steak and spent the rest of the time using his fork to kick around the sides of potatoes and broccolini on the plate.
We often lunched together when he wasn’t away on business and would meet later in the rose-garden drawing room to pass the evening with the rest of the family. It was his one rule. Each night, two hours after the sun set, the family was expected to gather. Some nights it was a simple affair, we ate, drank copious amounts of wine, played cards and—my favourite—gossip.
My father was an absolute blabbermouth when I came to telling people’s business, I lived for it. And so did the others. If we had nothing else in common, we had that.
Then there were nights when our small number of ten would swell to fifty or more if Papa Knight or one of his siblings decided to hire entertainment and invite guests. We’d make use of the garden, weather permitted. Those were the nights I loved the most. Live music, plenty of food and liquor, lively conversations, and best of all, for a few blissful hours, I was one of the Knights. I’d never felt more included, than when we were all presenting a united front.
“I’m not going to kiss her ass.”
“Wouldn’t suggest it.” He spread his hands open in the sweetest way, “but it would please me if you both got along. I’m only suggesting that perhaps you could make the first move. You did cut the girl?”
“Prove it?” I jokingly challenged. “No scar, no proof.”
He chuckled. Sometimes I think he found my antics far more amusing than he should.
“Try,” he insisted. “I think you’ll find you both have a lot in common.”
I doubted it, still I agreed I’d be a proper big sister and mend the rift between me and Calista. I was older than her by ten months, I learned during one of our lunches. Apparently, he married Camile right after he ended the affair with my mother and had the twins.
Oh, Killen, the eldest he had with another woman, was off touring Europe. “In a campaign to find himself,” Papa Knight’s sneered, then admitted he hadn’t heard from his eldest going on a year.
A few days passed and I completely forgot about our conversation and my promise. Alana, my companion kept me busy. The girl was a ball of energy. I wondered at times if she was on something. She delighted in showing me around the mansion, introducing me to some of the staff.
Don’t tell her, but I sometimes envy the way she lived, like every second was a blessing. And while that may be true, it wouldn’t be the human experience if every day were sunny.
In the first couple of weeks, we lounged around, frolicked in my private pool surrounded by the noise of exotic birds and pretty blossoms. We established a routine of going on nature walks during the mornings. And when we were feeling especially silly, we’d get lost chasing each other in the huge maze dominating the main garden.
All my life I’d wanted a baby sister. Alana made the best kind, she adored me, was affectionate, had one of the most generous spirits I’d ever met, and was down for anything—no questions asked.
For a while, the newness of my surroundings kept my restless spirit at ease. After all, I had everything I could possibly want or need at my fingertips. And if it weren’t, I simply had to ask for it.
When Papa Knight said Alana would set me up with everything I needed, he was not lying.
By the next morning after my first night, I had an account in my name with more money than I ever dreamed of having, a new phone, new car, and by the end of the week a closet full of ‘seasonal’ wear. Every damned thing tailored to fit me to a T, all from name brand houses, some of which I’ve never heard of. I won’t even start on the shoes.
My princess suite came with a canopied bed, on-suite bathroom and two walk-in closets. One was strictly for my precious darlings. As if, Papa knew my weakness and thought what better way to spoil me than to enable my shoe addiction.
What was a bitch to do? For the first time in my life, I had everything I could want at my fingertips, nowhere to go and no one to share it with. Two weeks in and my feet began to itch. The walks were no longer doing it for me. I’d gone through the maze enough times that I was confident I could walk it blindfolded and not miss a beat.
Fleetingly, I thought of scrolling through my contacts and reaching out, see who answered. The urge quickly died when I realized, not a single person on that list deserved my attention.
Materialistic-wise I had no complaints, but a bitch was lonely. I’m a social butterfly. After weeks padding around that big ass mansion, I needed a new outlet.
At first, I figured I’d spend some of that energy getting to know Bash. Only, the bastard had either been warned to stay away from me, or he kept a crazy busy schedule.
When I did manage to exchange word with him during our evening gatherings, he kept it brief and cordial. Almost as if he couldn’t bare breathing the same air as me. But I saw the way he looked at me when he thought I wasn’t watching.
I knew a man fighting temptation when I saw one. I wasn’t fooled, in fact, I enjoyed teasing him. Not only was it fun watching him fight the urge to yank me away and have his way with me. Calista’s face turning into curdled milk seeing us together, was more than worth my nightly frustrations.  
I’d heard, more than seen, her throughout the weeks, barking at the unfortunate woman hired to plan the wretch’s birthday party. I didn’t know much about the event. Didn’t care much about it either. If not for Alana, the day would have come and gone without my knowing. Unfortunately, I was expected to attend. I needed an outfit, which meant—shopping spree.
Dumbly, I thought this would be a common ground we could bond over. And the only reason why I took my narrow ass over to the east wing.
If you’re wondering, Papa didn’t share a bedroom with his wife. Shit, the woman and her children occupied an entirely different wing. Talk about marriage of convenience.
Each of our wings were set up like apartments with balconies overlooking a shared courtyard. I entered the east wing’s rotunda, a circular tower, and paused. I didn’t know which of the four doors led to Calista’s apartment. One stood out, trimmed in powdered pink and gold. It stood slightly ajar.
Should have asked Alana, I thought, heading for the girly pink door. I nudged it open, expecting the room to be empty. Rarely did I use my drawing room or leave the entrance unlocked, and anyone calling on me usually buzzed before I let them in.
Oh, shit I should’ve buzzed. I froze. Aldis stood naked, his pale skin glistening under the bright lights. One hand fisting the back of a familiar head of blonde hair as he thrust roughly into her mouth.
My mouth dropped opened. Holy shit, they were fucking. Aldis and Calista were fucking.
How long? I backed up. No way did I want them to know I was there. But then Aldis looked up, his gaze locking with mine.
A sick grin curled his lips. He gripped her head with both hands and thrust deep, smashing her face into his pelvis.
“Yes,” he hissed, griding his hips. “That’s it mother, mm-mm, milk your good boy.”
I slapped a hand over my mouth, turned on my heel, and fled.
This was the type of secret powerful people killed to keep quiet. What would Aldis do?