The Villainess Will Die

Chapter 6

"I'm curious if your body lusts for him in the same way it lusts for mine."

~

As soon as she walked into the foyer, a voice asked, "Where have you been?"

Amarissa raised her head. A man was standing at the top of one of the two staircases, a hand on the rail, staring down at her. Although his hair was streaked with grey, there was no mistaking that it had once been the same colour as her own. He had the same black hair as her, the same sharp, angular features.

"Explain yourself right this instant." He sucked in a frustrated breath. "Do you require a reminder as to who is in charge here?"

"Nowhere," she said, her voice shaking slightly as she spoke. Amarissa's body was trembling involuntarily, as if she were afraid of something. "I went for a carriage ride around town."

As soon as she said it she knew he wouldn't believe her. His face was devoid of any expression, except for his eyes, and they were burning. His eyes were burning with hatred.

"Are you having an affair with the Marquis of Whitaker's second son?" His voice was calm, but his eyes accused her. "What was his name again? Christian?"

She swallowed nervously. "Bastien. His name is Bastien."

"Bastien," he repeated. His tone was laced with mockery. "Yes, I remember him now. You two seem to be getting along better lately. Isn't that right, Amarissa?"

"I am not having an affair with the Marquis of Whitaker's second son."

"How can you expect me to believe such lies?"

The bluntness of his question took her aback for a couple of seconds. "What?"

"How much longer will you go on telling lie after lie?" His hands gripped the railing so tightly that his knuckles turned white. "You are still the future Duchess of Elrod in the eyes of the public. I've been hearing rumours about you. Disturbing rumours. Lechery! Infidelity! Debauchery!"

Lechery. Infidelity. Debauchery. Amarissa couldn't help but laugh when she heard his words. She had met with him only once before, and the same coldness and indelicacy in his attitude toward her remained just the same.

"How the hell can you laugh at a time like this?" He descended the staircase, his footsteps echoing throughout the silent halls. "You bring a stain on our family name."

"This is really most amusing."

He paused. "What?"

"You're no better than everyone else," she said through gritted teeth. She clenched her fists as anger built in her. "If you're so quick to think those things about me, then what right have you to call yourself my father?"

"How dare you question me?" His eyes shimmered with anger. "You have my blood running through your veins. Is this how you thank me for the kindness I had shown in granting you life?"

"Granting me life?" Amarissa echoed his words, choking in disbelief. She didn't owe him a damn thing. "Stop lying to yourself and just be honest. You never wanted me, right?" She watched as his body grew tense and rigid at her words. "We all know how you truly felt about my birth," she continued, "since it was nothing more than an inconvenience to you."

The air grew tense. She was afraid to move, exhale, to so much as blink. The truth was that she had no idea, no way of truly knowing why he had loathed Amarissa so much. But it was clear—so very clear—that she was not wanted.

"You don't know anything," he said, in a softer tone. A trace of pain flashed across his pitch-black eyes. "Go to bed before you cause any more trouble. And next time, if you're going to stay out this late, bring some guards with you."