Claiming The Heiress

The Stranger In His House

Katerina

That man is crazy! As I scream at him to stop the damn jeep before he killed someone, he’s already pushing on the gas and moving even faster up the road. The scary men outside scatter like cockroaches as we drive off, lifting dust and grass off the ground.

“What are you doing? Who the hell are these people?” I snap, my voice raised an octave as I stare at the shrieking figures still chasing after us.

That prick Montener only scoffs at my question and I swear to god, I want to strangle him. I’ve never met such an insufferable, annoying piece of an a*ss in my life. From the way he looks at me like he owns me to the way he acts like a caveman macho or some other s*hit, it’s insufferable. And how he walked around earlier, thinking he did something by refusing to wait for us or help us with our luggage, like we couldn’t carry a few bags without the big scary man’s help? I’d be laughing my heart out if he weren’t literally trying to kill some freaky people on the road right about now.

The engine roars angrily, digging up dirt and stones, as we storm off ahead and it’s a pure miracle we didn’t hit anyone. Next to me Eva looks paler than usual as she holds on to the doorhandles for dear life and I want to kick that bastard in the nuts for pulling this s*hit off.

“Do we have a problem, Mr. Montener?” I ask icily the moment we are back on even road, the people far behind us and he’s managed to straighten up the vehicle.

Montener’s only response is that unimpressed sideways smirk of his in the rear view mirror that already has my blood boiling and not in the fun way. I hold his gaze though, my eyes squinting in the bright sunlight that surrounds us from everywhere and hurts my eyes, but I am not planning on backing down. I try to be understanding and all that. I am aware it can’t be easy for him to have all his life’s work be taken over a complete stranger, but it’s not my fault, and neither is it my problem. If we can’t act at least somewhat civil, this is all doomed from the start.

I don’t say neither of those words out loud though. I am too tired and I don’t trust myself I won’t mention something to set him off further. Now is definitely not the right time to set things straight.

Montener is the one who looks away first, with a not exactly roll of his eyes, but there it is, a glint of amusement he tries hide as he pretends to ignore me.

“No, we don’t have a problem, señorita,” he says and it takes me a second to remember what we were talking about.

Damn him but the way he says it, low and husky, and completely unimpressed, it makes me completely uncertain of everything. It makes me want to rage just because.

"Good,” I nod, perfectly bottling all my anger, storing it for later. “So, who were those people, really?”

An annoyed sigh leaves him at that. He doesn’t speak for a long time and the silence in the car makes me want to crawl out of my skin because I hate every single part of it. I hate it when I am not in control.

“Some thugs trying to scare off the new boss,” Montener drags lazily and then, with mocked concern in his voice, he adds: “Did they scare you?”

I huff at that but don’t grace him with the reply he deserves, one that only a Balkan girl like me can give, we’ll have plenty of time for that later.

My mind goes to a few minutes ago when the men ganged up on the road, trying to stop us. I wasn’t scared, I don’t think, but it’s partly, or mainly, because I am operating on barely any sleep and my entire being feels thrown off centre with the fact that it’s morning when it’s supposed to be late at night. So I am not at my sharpest and by the look of it, neither is Eva.

“Don’t worry, they won’t try again any time soon,” Montener adds innocently and if it’s not the way his eyes are squinting in challenge, I might’ve believed he cared. But of course, he’s just playing his little game, whatever it is, and I can’t have him get the upper hand.

The next thing I know, I am standing taller, my stubbornness taking the best of me, because nobody can tell me I am not raising up to occasion. I lift a brow in challenge, watching intently his reaction in the rearview. “Do I look worried?”

Montener makes a huffing noice at that, dragging his gaze back to me in the rearview, eyes narrowed. “Don’t know, señorita,” he shrugs. “You look like a fresh lamb, sticking its neck out in the open and asking who’s the biggest wolf in the land to come snatch it.”

Oh, so that’s how we are going to play this. A sweet smile lands on my lips. “Be careful, Mr. Montener, because sometimes lambs turn out to be other wolves, hiding exactly how nasty they can be.”

I don’t miss the note of interest that flashes in his dark, lava eyes, before again, he hides it behind the mask of apathy.

“Will see, lady, we’ll see.”

I don’t reply to that. I don’t have much energy left to deal with his drama.

My tired eyes wander outside, to the evergreen trees and plants whose names I don’t know yet, to the scorched sky above my head and the blazing sun that burns everything in its wake. It’s barely noon but the heat is unbearable in the beginning of October. Back home the leaves are already yellow, the mornings chilly as they seep into a winter crisp and that feeling of comfort that only the change of seasons can bring is now lost to me. God, it’s not even winter and I am already missing the song of the swallows. Which means I definitely need some rest, because I am not that winy b*itch most of the time.

Nobody says another word until we reach some better road, asphalted and all that, the fields getting more manicured as they seep into well maintained lawns with fresh cut grass, fresh looking palm trees and all kinds of colourful flowers the names to which I don’t know. It’s the moment when I see the large, two-storey building with amber facade and dark framed windows, that it hits me, it really does. That’s his home. Petar’s. He lived here for all those years I thought he didn’t want me. But he’s not Petar anymore and it turns out he cared enough to leave me a mansion with all the estates attached to it.

The moment Montener kills the engine, I jump out of the jeep, my heart beating like crazy in my chest. Immediately heat and humidity like nothing I’ve ever felt before hit me. They glue to me like tar, pressing on my skin, sweat covering my forehead in an instant. Montener hops out too and I don’t miss the self-satisfied smirk on his face. For an instant as he walks toward the shadows on the font porch our eyes meet and I can’t miss the challenge and mockery gleaming in his dark burning eyes.

I only roll mine in response, a sarcastic remark already on my lips, when the large wooden doors of the house open up and a bunch of people in plain, simple clothes rush towards us. They are lead by a dark-tanned woman with the thickest, blackest braid I’ve ever seen. She’s taller than me, with broader shoulders and a masculine physique which is in complete contrast with the colourful, feminine dress she’s wearing. As her eyes bore into mine, filled with half honest interest, half pure challenge, I realise they are exactly the same as Montener’s.

“She doesn’t look like her father,” she says in Spanish and I make a note to myself not to let these people know that I speak the language. Not yet. In broken English she turns to me, “Hello, señorita, welcome. My name is Maria, I am the house keeper. This is Dolores, the maid,” she points to a young girl with loose brown hair and a foxy face, before motioning to another, older woman, “and this is Clarita, our cook.”

Maria then continues to introduce me to other people on the staff - the gardener, the driver, the stable boy, but informs me that they don’t speak English, so I should turn to either her or Alejandro, or Juan, a black man with a kind smile who is Alejandro’s right hand and usually works with the cattle administration, whatever the hell that is supposed to mean.

Juan gives me a polite nod as he hurries to grab mine and Eva’s bags from the trunk. He and the driver take our things inside, chatting cheerfully, but it all changes the moment Montener appears right back. I swear to hell, it’s like this man sucks the air out of any space he occupies and no amount of broad muscles can atone for that.

Montener’s eyes bore right into me, like he doesn’t see, or care, for anyone else. My skin heats up even more at the notion and I start turning my back on him.

“This is our master’s daughter,” he tells his people with a loud, firm voice, of course in Spanish.

Everyone stills at his words and I swear to god, it’s like even the birds in the trees stop chirping in expectation of what he has to say. His next words however, come out bitter and mocking, and I don’t need to know the language, to understand his meaning.

“One day she may take over everything here, and for now, she’s the patron of this place. But remember one thing, she’s not her father. We can’t expect the same kindness and understanding,” at that his eyes and tone are equally as intense, the venom seeping through him like lava, and again he reminds me of a volcano,” so be careful. Abide to her requests, and if you have a problem with something, or anyone, you come to me. Is that understood?”

It takes every single cell in my body to keep my face blank, not to react. That man just declared war to me without even giving me a chance, not even caring whether I know it or not. And right here and now, despite the heat and the exhaustion and the stupid headache, I make a promise, to myself, to my father, to his insolent son - I will not back down. I will not let Alejandro Montener win the war he started.