The Devil's Favourite
Titus Danforth x fem!reader
In all the years Titus had been alive, no woman had ever captured his attention like you did. Titus could not explain it, he just knew, from the second he first met you, he needed you like air. And he'd move heaven and hell if necessary to get you. Not his father, not yours, not the Lawyer, Mr Le Bail or his demons he had watching over you could ever stop him.
Chapter 6 - Cracks
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Words: 5,8k
Content: Older Man/Younger Woman (Titus is 50, Reader in her early twenties but it's only mentioned in passing), Blood and Gore, Brutal Murder, Torture, Possessive Behaviour, Stalking, Slightly Dubious Consent, Eventual Smut, Obsessive Titus Danforth, Sexually Inexperienced Titus Danforth, Virgin!Reader, Agoraphobic Reader, Size Difference, Size Kink, Blood Kink, Dacryphilia
No use of y/n!
Read on Ao3 or below the cut:
You sat in a corner of the third-floor clubhouse, one of the more exclusive dining experiences the Breeders’ Cup had to offer. Titus was smoking a cigar while you nipped on an alcohol-free cocktail - you weren’t sure what it was, just that it tasted good. You let Titus order for you, merely asking him to choose something fresh with a lot of citrus.
Just as he had promised, none of the staff even acknowledged your existence. They spoke to Titus, and Titus only. You didn’t have to pretend you weren’t uncomfortable as you forced yourself to smile, struggling through placing an order while your hands trembled around the menu clutched in your fingers, cold sweat covering your skin, your heart beating so frantically you feared it might just give out.
You watched the horses warming up on the track on the monitors mounted on the wall, though you weren’t really interested.
“That one's mine.” Titus said around his cigar and nodded up to the screen showing a close-up shot of a stunning, dark horse. “Belisarius.”
“He’s cute.”
“I suppose. More importantly, he’s a champion. And prime breeding stock.” Titus hummed. “Do you have horses?”
You shook your head. “Daddy doesn’t let me have pets.”
“And for good reason.” Richard said, coming up behind you. “We all know what happened to the guinea pig.”
You swirled around, eyes ablaze with fiery rage. “I didn’t do a fucking thing to the guinea pig!”
“Sure you didn’t, love.” Your father bent down to press a kiss to the crown of your head before pulling a chair over to sit next to you. “And we didn’t find it suddenly dead in its cage.”
“I didn’t do that!” You insisted. You looked over to Titus, tears gathering in your eyes. “I didn’t.” You whispered, pleading with him to believe you.
Titus remembered well how Ursula once accused him of killing her cat when they were children. The feral thing probably just ran away because she couldn’t be bothered to look after it. She probably got rid of it herself. The damn thing always snuck into Titus’ room to be near him and shed all over his stuff, and little miss perfect could not stand someone preferring the broken twin over her.
“I wouldn’t. I love animals. I won’t even hurt the goats.”
“Biscuit and Rosehip are living their best fucking lives now, and we have to live with goats roaming our garden.” Caspian grunted, dropping into a chair on your other side. Chester took a seat next to Titus.
You shrugged, grinning sheepishly at Titus. “I’m not allowed into the stable anymore either.”
“Yeah, because you keep naming them and getting attached and then throw a fit when it's time to sacrifice them.” Caspian fished a silver cigarette case out of his pocket. “You can’t steal all of Mr Le Bail’s sacrifices.”
“Mr Le Bail said I can have them!” You whined.
“Or so you claim.” He muttered around the butt of his cigarette before lighting it. You glared at him.
“I’m not crazy.” You hissed.
“I once found you outside in the middle of a rainstorm, wandering the grounds without any shoes on, muttering to yourself.”
“Father met him! Father made a deal with him when he was sixteen, but I’m the crazy one for seeing him in his chair?”
Caspian opened his mouth, no doubt to say something that would only further escalate the sibling bickering, but Richard shot him a warning glance.
The conversation stalled when a server came by to offer drinks to the new arrivals. Titus noticed your empty glass and ordered another mocktail for you.
“Behave you two.” Richard said mockingly, his lips curling into a derisive smirk. “We have company after all.” He turned his head ever so slightly to look at you. “And you are still on thin ice after the stunt you pulled, young lady.”
Your eyes froze over. Titus could practically feel the temperature drop around you. “You never told me I couldn’t spend time with Titus. Then you punished me for it. And now you told me to spend time with him. You keep changing the rules, daddy.”
“I am your father. I can set whatever rules for you I deem fit. And you have proven many a time that you require rules and a firm hand.”
“I’m not one of your hunting dogs.” You hissed.
“No.” Whatever warmth amusement had painted onto Richard’s face evaporated when his expression dropped. He lowered his voice further, leaning down to you, crowding you. Titus’ grip tightened around his cigar. “They know how to obey, bunny.”
You gritted your teeth, jaw tensing. Then, suddenly, your shoulders relaxed. A terrifyingly mild smile settled on your lips. “It’s not a good idea to make me want to kill you, don’t you think, daddy?”
Richard merely chuckled, clearly convinced you were bluffing. Titus was inclined to agree, though he’d be careful to make such a bold claim. Even if you didn’t intend to, even if you loved your father, he’d seen the aftermath of you losing control.
“Whatever you say, love, but nobody likes a brat. I advise you to fix your attitude, quickly.”
“I don’t feel like it.”
“That would have some rather unfortunate consequences for you.”
You opened your mouth to retort something, probably something that would make your father very angry judging by the rage distorting your pretty face - and Titus didn’t know what he’d do if your father dared slap you in front of him again - but you were cut off by the arrival of the Lawyer.
“Ms Convington.” He greeted you warmly, ignoring the rest of the table, though neither Richard nor Chester seemed particularly surprised by his presence. You tore your eyes from your father and looked up. Titus’ insides clenched at the sight of the big, warm smile stretching across your lips - a smile not meant for him. You got up and hugged the Lawyer. He peeled his hands out of his pockets idly, taking his time to drape one arm loosely around your waist. His gaze found Titus over your head. The corner of his mouth twitched at the clear, violent jealousy burning in his hazel eyes.
“What are you doing here?”
“Ah, Mr Danforth asked me to join a meeting between him and your father, and of course I could not leave without seeing you, my dear.” He offered you his arm and accepted it without hesitation.
Not like with Titus.
You didn’t think twice, didn’t abuse your bottom lip, didn’t hesitate.
You took his arm and let him guide you away, away from Titus, away from your father and brother, into the crowd that usually frightened you so much.
“She’s known him her whole life.” Caspian muttered, glaring at the Lawyer’s back. “Kept showing up in her room and shit. Creepy fucker.” He took a drag of his cigarette and reached for his drink the second the waiter put it down. Silence fell over the table until the young man hurried away again, fleeing the uncomfortable atmosphere that had settled over the table.
“He is the sole attorney for Mr Le Bail and the Le Bail organisation. It is only natural for him to keep an eye on Mr Le Bail’s personal… investments.”
“Heaven forbid people deduce she is your daughter from the way you talk about her.” Caspian muttered and got up, taking his cigarette and drink out to the exterior walkway overlooking the track.
Richard didn’t take his eyes off Titus to watch him go, seemingly entirely unaffected by his son's petulant reproach.
“So…” He hummed, folding his hands and leaning back in his chair. “You want my daughter’s hand in marriage… Quite the amusing jest.”
He was such an arrogant asshole, Titus thought, biting back the comment before it could slip past his lips.
“I have no reason to give my unstable daughter to an even more unstable man.”
“But it would be a wise move to make.” Titus put out his cigar on the ashtray before him. “She seems quite angry with you, and right now nothing is standing between you and her considerations to kill you.”
“Oh please.” Richard chuckled. “She’s been saying that whenever she throws a tantrum ever since she was a little girl.”
“But she isn’t a little girl anymore.” Titus grinned. “Certainly not with the way she all but jumped me the second we were alone.”
Richard’s carefully crafted mask slipped ever so slightly.
“It is not wise to antagonise the man you want something from.” Chester hissed into Titus’ ear.
“Listen to your father, boy.”
“But I’m only a few years younger than you, Richard.”
Another crack.
Oh, it was so satisfying to see him struggle with his composure.
“And there is nothing I want from him. Your daughter is a grown woman. Besides, I have a feeling that Mr Le Bail’s favourite always ends up getting exactly what she wants - and she wants me.”
“She is a fickle thing. She doesn’t even know what she wants, or what expects her with you. So you pleasured her, maybe she came back for another taste. You really think that means something? You think she’ll return the favour? Even if she may be interested, should you make the foolish choice to propose without my blessing, and even if she says yes out of some delayed teenage rebellion, the second she finds out being Mrs Danforth means public appearances and moving away from home, she’ll run scared.” Richard turned to Chester. “I can only imagine the burden it must be to have your only two children refuse to do their duty to the family by continuing the line - not that I have that problem," Richard chuckled. "But do you really think my daughter is a good choice? You must be truly desperate at this point if you consider a girl you cannot even trust to not disembowel or maim her own children when they start annoying her.”
Chester did not even bat an eye at Richard’s gruesome predictions. “What do nannies exist for? Besides, an unloving mother would only toughen the children up.”
It disgusted Titus how they spoke of you.
You, his sweet little rose. You had a violent side, but how could they claim you’d be anything but a wonderful mother? How dare your own father speak so coldly of you? With such venomous repugnance?
Chester folded his hands on the table and leant forward ever so slightly. The shift was minimal, but the effect it had on the space around him was crushing. The High Seat’s ring gleamed menacingly on his finger. Richard’s eyes flicked down to it, despite it only being a piece of metal, all its power merely symbolic.
But Chester’s power was anything but merely symbolic.
“You do not need to concern yourself with my motives, old friend. And as the head of your family, you certainly have the right to deny any marriage proposition brought to you, as we’ve discussed while going over the bylaws, but do remember that you’d do well to not make an enemy of me.”
“An enemy of you? By refusing to let my precious daughter become the next toy of your manchild of a son?”
Titus was halfway out of his seat before Chester could lift his arm to stop him.
“There are no divorces in Mr Le Bail’s organisation. We unite our families, they will stay united, no matter what. And what happens to my daughter when he inevitably grows bored? Or when you decide she is too much to handle? My daughter is sick. She needs rules and structure and quiet, not living right next to a hotel with a country club and a golf course, with a volatile, thrill-seeking, attention-addicted-”
“Careful.” Titus hissed. His fingers were itching to close around Richard’s throat.
Richard ignored him. “My daughter is well-bred, no doubt about that. Under normal circumstances I’m sure her blood would be a fine addition to the Danforth line, but come on, Chester. You want a girl afraid of her own shadow bearing your heirs? We do not need to indulge our children’s every whim. He wants my daughter because he can’t have her. The moment I allow whatever twisted affair they think they are having - and I find it hard to believe my daughter is even really aware of what she’s doing - they are going to lose interest in each other. And I'm certainly not going to sit back and allow my daughter to run into reputational ruin and further damage to her psyche just to prove that point.”
Richard got up, and with a last arrogant, self-satisfied smirk directed at Titus, he left to join his son on the walkway.
“You need to have better control over yourself.” Chester sniffed and waved a waiter over to order a fresh whiskey. “You’ve set your eyes on a girl who loves her father. It would be beneficial for you to not make your future father-in-law hate your guts.”
“Were we a part of the same conversation? He is not-” Titus cut himself off when the waiter returned and waited for him to disappear before continuing in a lower voice. “He’s not changing his mind.”
Chester nipped at his glass. “You are a Danforth. You say you want to make that girl yours, then that girl will be your bride. But if you make an enemy of her father, that’ll be for you to deal with. I will not involve myself in your quarrels with your father-in-law, or your brothers-in-law. That would be too fucking pathetic.”
Even for you, was the part Chester left unsaid.
Chester tugged at the cuff of his suit jacket and dress shirt below, adjusting the polished, gold cufflinks.
“The race is about to start. Take the girl with you to your box. Make sure you’re seen together.”
“Why?”
The look Chester gave Titus oozed with disenchantment. It made Titus feel like he was ten years old again and stuttering his way through a presentation about Roman war strategies he spent weeks preparing for.
He looked as if he was deeply disappointed Titus could not read his mind and perceive his plans, while at the same time being disappointed in himself for ever expecting more of Titus.
“Right now, Richard holds all the power. He has a sheltered, frightened girl under his thumb whom he’ll never let go willingly, not while she is so valuable to him. We need leverage.”
“I’m sure you’ll be able to dig something up-”
“There are easier ways, son.” Chester brushed him off. “Why get our hands dirty when we can make others apply pressure for us? Make the people fall in love with the idea of you and her as a couple, and the common rabble will do all the work for us. They will turn on the person they perceive as standing in the way of your grand love story. Make him go from caring, protective, dedicated father in the eyes of the public, to a cruel, possessive, controlling, old-fashioned enemy of true love. You’ll be the perfect gentleman to her. A perpetual bachelor suddenly taken with a beautiful, well-bred young thing. A wild stallion finally tamed by the love of a good woman. Two pretty faces to make pretty babies together. They will eat that shit right up.”
Titus licked his lips. His father knew how to get what he wanted, and Titus was not unfamiliar with being ordered to act a certain way in public, or even in front of planted paparazzi for bought headlines to distract from him beating some piece of shit to a pulp in a crowded club - but this was different.
This was about you.
“She doesn’t like crowds.” He said quietly, avoiding his father’s gaze like a little boy who knew he’d done something wrong.
“Do you want her? Then I’m sure you’ll find a way to make her endure some discomfort so that she can be your bride. You expect me to do all the work for you? Do you perhaps want me to fuck your wife on your wedding night for you as well? Be a fucking man, Titus.” Chester scoffed. He got up and left without giving Titus the chance to get one last word in. Not that Titus had much to reply to his words that hit him like a punch to the gut.
Titus found you in a quiet corner behind the bar, engrossed in a conversation with the Lawyer. You looked up when he approached, and the hint of a smile grazed your lips.
The Lawyer excused himself with that same irritating mixture of amusement and an expression as though he knew something about Titus he was yet to learn about, and Titus could never tell whether it was something good or something truly horrendous.
The Lawyer seemed to find both equally amusing.
“Is he a demon as well?” Titus leaned against the wall, facing you. You didn’t quite meet his eyes.
“No.”
“But he’s old.”
“Yeah.” You hummed. Your hand found the ties of your sleeve and wound them around your fingers again. “He said you want to marry me.”
Titus felt his breath wither in his throat.
You tipped your head to the side, eyes skimming just below his face. He wasn’t wearing his ascot anymore. A part of you wondered where it was now, though you could not quite make sense of why your brain would be so interested in a cum-stained piece of silk. Or why you kept thinking about his penis… how it had looked, so swollen and dripping with need… for you.
“Why?” You looked up, finding his hazel eyes trained on you. He always looked at you with such focus… such intensity.
Titus licked his lips. “Why I want to marry you?”
You kept asking him absurd questions.
“How could I not?” He all but whispered before pulling himself back together. He straightened up, his father’s words echoing through his head. Be a fucking man.
How could I not.
You didn’t know what to make of that reply. Never once in your life had you expected that one day a man would want to marry you. You hadn’t spent much time thinking about all that to begin with - it was kind of hard to think about one’s future or something like romance while spending every second of one’s life scared to death.
Was this why you were here?
Because Titus wanted to marry you?
Your father didn’t usually come into your bedroom at six in the morning with the demand to join him during an outing. You didn’t like that he just basically ordered you to get ready and surrender to his decision no matter how sick the thought of being among all these people made you feel.
But today he had.
He changed the rules without any for you conceivable reason. He’d spent the last three weeks berating you for going with Titus after he told you to come back, just for him to let you go with him today?
Your father didn’t like Titus.
He made that very clear in the last weeks, so why would he even consider this? Because of Titus’ father? Because one simply did not tell Chester Danforth no?
Thinking about all this, trying to make sense of it only made you think about the way Richard felt the need to bring your guinea pig up again - especially in front of Titus. It didn’t sit right with you at all.
Especially if Titus wanted to marry you, and Richard knew Titus wanted to marry you.
Especially if the entire reason you’d been forced to come into this sensory hellscape was because Titus wanted to marry you.
Why talk about that? He knew how angry it made you being accused of killing the only pet you’d ever been allowed to have. And what would Titus think of you, hearing that? Who would ever want to marry someone so deranged they kill innocent pets?
You didn’t think you could marry someone who believed you'd ever even harmed a hair on Henry Howard Holmes’ tiny fuzzy head! (Named after the prolific serial killer active in the late 1800s, because they both had bright blue eyes and guinea pig Holmes looked a tiny bit as if he had a moustache too.)
Humiliation burned a hole through your stomach and made your cheeks feel hot at the memory of the conversation. Why did he have to say that?
‘I advise you to fix your attitude.’
Why was it always you who had to adjust and change? Why was, no matter what he did or said, never Richard in the wrong? Your attitude was a result of him!
‘I’m not one of your hunting dogs.’
‘No. They know how to obey, bunny.’
Your hands curled into fists, nails sinking into the soft flesh of your palms.
Caspian treating you as if you were crazy again…
You were still mad he sedated you when you were hunting with Titus. You were fine. That hadn’t been like that time you spent five days meticulously taking a corpse apart, and started lashing out at anyone who tried to make you eat or drink or rest.
You were in control! They just didn’t like what you chose to do.
Anger raged inside you and you had no place for it to go, and nothing you could do about it. Were you at home, were you not surrounded by strangers who you felt kept staring at you and tearing apart every little thing you did wrong or different, were not literally fighting to not start struggling for air, you’d have never rolled over for them like that.
And it infuriated you that you had!
That you let Caspian walk all over you and your father treat you like some silly, stupid little girl, but you were pretty sure the lady with the ugly as fuck hat at the bar knew you’d watch Titus jerk off and she was judging you.
Three men at the back kept glancing at you and every time they did, you wondered whether you had something stuck in your hair, or maybe your underwear was visible through the dress after all?
No matter what you tried to distract yourself, you could not shake the feeling that you were making an utter fool of yourself and everyone here could tell, just not you.
“Would you join me in my box for the race?”
You shifted uncomfortably.
The mere thought of standing in one of the boxes right by the track, surrounded by all those screaming people, made something deep inside you tighten painfully and nausea well up in the back of your throat. You glanced over your shoulder, finding your father and oldest brother outside on the walkway. You didn’t want to be with them either.
Not while you itched to kill them.
Not while you pictured their bloodless bodies beneath you, ribcages split open, eyes gouged out, limbs shattered…
You closed your eyes against the volley of gruesome pictures assaulting your mind.
“I’d very much like to have you, but I respect if it is too much.” Titus’ voice was so soft.
So patient and understanding and kind.
How did this man you barely knew, who barely knew you, show your condition more compassion and consideration than your own blood did?
Had your father or one of your brothers ever asked what they could do to make things easier for you? Had they ever ordered waiters and hostesses to not talk to you, to not even look at you?
“It is.” Your voice came out soft, softer than a whisper. A breeze too gentle to move the lake beneath it. You took a deep breath and forced yourself to meet Titus’ eyes again. You liked their colour… the way it shifted depending on the light. You liked the way he looked at you too. With hunger and greed, but also… soft. Needy, almost.
His brows dipped at your words, disappointment slipping onto his features despite his attempts to hide it.
“Do you think I killed my guinea pig?”
Confusion flashed through Titus’ hazel eyes, just to be reigned in quickly as he made the mental leap necessary to follow your train of thought.
“You said you didn’t.”
“Because I didn’t!”
“So what else is there to say?” He shrugged. “I don’t believe you’d kill your pet. What reason would you have? And I’ve seen how you kill. Had you lost control for whatever reason, your father wouldn’t have found a guinea pig that just suddenly died in its cage. Not that any of that matters. You say you didn't do it, so you didn’t do it.”
“I would have to move if I married you.”
Titus blinked.
“Yes.” He said after a moment, after his brain caught up with you again. Tentatively. As though afraid of your reaction to his affirmation.
You looked up to hesitantly meet his eyes once more. “I don’t know if I can.”
“No need to think about that now.” Titus brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His thumb lingered against your cheek. “I can’t ask you right now anyway. Your father refuses to give his permission.“
“I don’t need it.”
“The bylaws say you do.” He sighed and adjusted the cuff of his shirt. “When two members of a High Council family want to marry, they need the permission of the heads of their families.”
You scrunched up your nose.
“Chester is working on it.” Titus rolled his shoulders, attempting to be rid of some of the discomfort tensing up his muscles. “It’s-” He contemplated whether to tell you the truth. He gravitated towards no, but the mere thought of lying to you felt sacrilegious. “It’s why he told me to ask you to join me. Something about creating public pressure, but I don’t care what he says. We’re not doing this if it’s too much for you.”
“It is.” You licked your lips nervously. “But I want to go.”
You felt your heart pounding in your chest and your rapid pulse fluttering in your wrists.
As if your heart was slamming into your ribcage in an attempt to break the bones and escape its prison, an attempt that reverberated through your entire body.
A heavy weight filled your stomach and made nausea bubble up the back of your throat, the taste of bile spreading across your tongue. Your sweaty grip around Titus’ arm was tense, your muscles locked up to the point you doubted even he could pry your fingers away from him.
The walk down the ranks to Titus’ box just beside the finish line felt endless. People crowded around you, coming and going, everyone locked in a constant rush and inane chattering that stung in your ears.
You weren’t made for this.
Your eyes flicked up to Titus. He looked so utterly unbothered, so completely unfazed by the circus while you felt as if you were dying.
You couldn’t help but wonder how it would be to be… normal.
To walk next to Titus and only think about the warmth of his body beneath your fingertips or the freckles scattered across his skin. The fine auburn strands still standing strong against the grey.
Instead you had to actively force yourself to breathe.
Tears pricked in your eyes, and you bit the inside of your cheek hard in a stubborn attempt to force them back down. You felt humiliated enough already without starting to cry in the middle of a crowd, right next to a man who for some inconceivable reason was actually thinking about marrying you.
You were glad when you finally reached the box and you could cling to the bannister. Feeling the cold metal against your skin and the hot sun slamming down on you helped ground you. You forced yourself to stay present, to not let your mind spiral further.
Titus’ hand settled at the small of your back. He stood behind you, half shielding you from the attention of the people around you, while the bannisters of the box encased you, keeping away anyone who did not belong here.
“Is that your brother?”
A few boxes over, Tobias was talking to his horse’s trainer.
“And your sister.” You murmur, avoiding looking at Ursula Danforth. Titus’ twin was intimidating even from a distance, even without ever having spoken a word with her. You couldn’t help but feel she loathed you, but then again, you got that feeling about most people.
You weren’t even entirely sure your brothers liked you. The wives of those already married sure as fuck didn't.
It made it just all the more difficult to understand how someone like Titus - an attractive, rich, older man who could have anyone he wanted - would choose to waste his time on a broken, useless, crazy little thing like you.
You pulled one of the extra sour suckers you kept on you at all times to stave off anxiety attacks out of your pocket. You struggled with the wrapper because your fingers were trembling so much. Without saying a word, Titus took it from you and unwrapped it before handing it back to you.
“Would you let me get a cat?”
Titus frowned at you. “Let you?” He asked, just that you heard “Let you?” And wasn’t it fascinating how emphasising a different word could change the whole meaning of a sentence?
You shrunk in on yourself. “I’d take care of it. You wouldn’t even have to- I-” You sucked on the lollipop, enduring the sharp bite of citric acid on your tongue to reset your nervous system, and maybe by eating something - something nobody in mortal danger would ever stop to do - you could make your brain finally realise you were not about to die.
“You’re a grown woman.” Titus muttered, jaw tense. “If you want a fucking cat, you get a fucking cat? If you were my wife, hell, you get anything you want! My wife shouldn’t have anything left to want. Now, upwards of five cats I think a conversation would need to be had, because frankly that’s an absurd number of cats.”
“No, it isn’t.”
Titus raised a brow. “It’s not?”
You shook your head, and fuck, you looked so adorable - Titus would steal every single housecat in the world just to dump them on your lap and see you happy.
It was a foreign feeling he was not entirely sure how to express, certainly not how to express without letting slip how consumed he had been by you.
He braced his hand against the bannister and leaned down, caging you in, stealing the sight of your body away from the crowd surrounding you with his broad back. “I want you. Not some houseplant that stands around all day looking pretty but never actually doing anything. Not some unemancipated child that needs my permission to have a fucking sandwich in the middle of the night or a pet who only gets to take a piss when I take it out. You. Carrying razor blades under your tongue-stabbing corpses in the forest until your arms refuse to move-splitting open ribcages on expensive Persian rugs-you.”
You hummed, sucker still firmly between your lips and looked back at the horses and their jockeys warming up for the race to mull over his words.
The horses were led to the starting line soon after, and you felt the shift in Titus behind you. The way he tensed up, leaning forward, grabbing hold of the rail on either side of you. His arms caged you in while his firm chest pressed against the back of your shoulders.
The race only lasted two minutes, two minutes of shouting, screeching, and an overeager crowd’s movement only stopped by the iron bannister casing Titus’ box in.
It felt like at least twenty minutes to you.
Or at least it did, until you felt Titus gearing up behind you as his horse overtook Ursula’s on the track. He didn’t shout like the others, but tension coiled around him, tightening his grip around the bannister until his knuckles went white.
You wanted him to win.
You found yourself, to your great surprise, rooting for Belisarius, and when the stallion chased across the finishing line, you emitted a very uncharacteristic shriek and turned around to throw your arms around Titus’ neck. He caught you with ease, arms coming up around your waist to hold you tight against his chest. He swirled you around, making your dress flutter around your legs, and another shriek slip over your lips. He grabbed your hand before tugging you past the howling masses and down towards the track.
Adrenaline rushed through your body and made you practically vibrate with excitement, to the point you didn’t notice Tobias looking after you or even thought about how uncomfortable you had been a moment ago.
You watched as his horse was shown off in front of the journalists and most dedicated lovers of the sport. Titus tugged you onto the track, only hesitating briefly to glance back at you.
“The picture is for you.” You murmured, getting up on your tiptoes to fix his collar and the lapels of his jacket. You didn’t notice the camera directed at you and Titus, nor did you know how significant it was to see Titus Danforth be so intimate and domestic with a woman.
You didn’t know this picture, you and Titus standing close, your fingers against his collar, would be on the front pages of all tabloids by the morning.
The garland was placed around Belisarius’ neck and trophies handed to Titus and his trainer to hold up for the official photo. Titus pulled you in close, a little closer than what would be considered gentlemanly, one arm draped around your waist while he held the trophy with his other hand. You forced a meek smile somehow. You had to cling to the back of Titus’ jacket with your hand and bite the inside of your cheek until it hurt to make it happen, but you were a Convington still - even if you were a little fucked in the head.
You knew how to keep up appearances.
The day calmed down not too long after. You stayed with Titus another hour while he had countless people come up to him to shake his hand and congratulate him. You offered shy, polite smiles to them and mostly did your best to hide behind Titus.
When he saw your father coming, wearing an expression as sour as curdled milk and followed by Caspian and Tobias, he quickly bent down to whisper in your ear.
“When can I see you again?”
You were powerless against the giddy grin stretching across your lips.
Even when Richard pulled you away, your hand securely trapped in his, you turned around to glance at Titus one last time. He grinned back and waved.
Oh, he would see you again, and soon if it were up to you.
As things were - with the exception of getting a pet - you had so far always found a way to get your will, and even the desired pet seemed to now be waiting for you in the future, a future that could not come fast enough for your taste.
Next Chapter
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