Taming London (Warwick Dragons #1) - Milly Taiden Page 0,3
heavy. London knew that his life wouldn’t hold up under her scrutiny.
He hadn’t exactly been living the kind of life his parents had raised to him to have. He was forging a lot of their values. He didn’t even want to pause and think of the harm this could be doing to him. To his heart.
He had centuries still ahead of him to deal with the wounds he was causing himself. He’d be just fine.
What he needed just then was understanding, and someone to complain to. He had two brothers, both of whom would understand just how irked he was by Johanna’s sudden and overhanded appearance. He grabbed his cell phone and dialed his eldest brother’s number. It would be midday for York, all the way in the United States, but that was just fine. The man could use a break from running one of the world’s biggest banks. York was nothing if not an absolute workaholic.
“What?” York snapped on the other end of the line.
His brother’s gruff manner made London smile. There was no doubt in his mind that his brother had seen the caller ID, sighed profoundly, and grumbled out an uneasy greeting. London decided to do away with silly things like hello and jumped right into his reason for calling.
“Mom has just been by my apartment. She’s in fine form.”
There was shuffling on the other side of the line. York heaved a heavy sigh. “Can you blame her? The tabloids have been plastering your face on every cover for weeks now. I warned you to cool it.”
“I did,” London insisted, but only half-heartedly. There was no way York was going to believe him. “They’re recycling some of the pictures. I swear, it’s not as bad as it appears.” It was, though. And they both knew it. “Can’t you tell Mom to back off?”
“No,” York snapped. “I don’t have time to clean up your messes. You know as well as I do how stubborn she is. She’s got it into her head that you need to be calmed down, and by god, that’s what she’ll do.”
“Send her to Paris.”
London knew that York understood him. He wasn’t just talking about the city in France, but also their brother, who just so happened to live in the town of the same name.
“Paris isn’t the one who is going to have a hell of a time disappearing in the next few decades when we have to reboot.”
London swore. Back in the days, before technology, before everyone and their mother had a camera in their back pockets, London could misbehave all he wanted, and no one would be the wiser. It was true that there were a few reports of him through the ages as a cad and a scoundrel, but it was only ever attached to a drawing of him. Never pictures. This was new, and he wasn’t a fan.
“You’re the heir apparent. Can’t you coax her into another charity or something?”
On the other end of the line, York sighed heavily. “No, London. I happen to be on her side with this.”
“What the hell am I supposed to do?”
“What we always do when Mom gets into one of these fixing moods. You do what she says, and eventually, she’ll leave you alone. It seems to me that Mom set up a good plan for you. All you have to do is play nice with the woman that was hired. And for the love of all that’s holy, do not fuck this woman.”
“Not likely. I hate this.”
“Better you than me,” York responded gruffly.
“Yeah, well, maybe I’ll send her your way when she’s done here.”
“Don’t you dare,” York growled.
With a laugh, London ended the call. York had been no help, and if he sweat a bit, thinking that he was Johanna’s next visit, then so be it. London was still desperate for a little bit of camaraderie and understanding. York had been less than helpful in making him feel better about their mother’s machinations. He called his other brother, ever the middle child. Paris was a notorious neutral party in the family squabbles, but he did sometimes surprise London with ideas of how centuries-old men should not be interfered with.
Try telling that to the formidable Johanna Warwick.
“Paris, dear brother,” London said as soon as the call connected.
“What do you want? I have paint drying on a canvas. Make the call quick.”
London rolled his eyes. Paris was always mid-painting or mid-sculpture. It was always very dramatic to bother him during his artistic projects. “I’m