Simply Pleasure by Kate Pearce Page A

it?”
    â€œHe’s your friend. You must speak to him.”
    â€œAnd if that has no effect?”
    â€œThen I’ll be forced to ask him to leave.”
    â€œI’ll go with him.”
    â€œThat’s your choice, Valentin.” For the first time his father looked defeated yet resolute. “You promised me three years and you have abided by that. I can hardly ask for anything more.”
    â€œSo you’re kicking me out as well.”
    â€œOh, for God’s sake, don’t be a hypocrite,” his father said wearily. “You’ve been looking forward to this day for years. Don’t try to pretend otherwise.” The marquess pushed a pile of papers over to him. “When you have time, read through this financial agreement, decide whether it’s all in order, and sign it.”
    â€œWhat is it?”
    â€œIt’s the full accounts for the Sokorvsky trust monies, which come to you at the end of the month.”
    â€œYou’re turning them over to me?”
    â€œThat was our agreement.”
    â€œBut—” Val swallowed back what he’d been going to say, and picked up the huge pile of paperwork. “Thank you.”
    â€œYou are welcome.”
    Nodding at his father, Val decided to abandon his ride and took himself back up the stairs to his bedroom. He hadn’t agreed to do anything about Peter, but his father’s revelations had shocked him. After a glance at the clock, he settled down to read through the papers his father had given him. His English had improved considerably in the past three years, but the legal jargon wouldn’t be easy to read. Peter wouldn’t wake up for hours, and by then, if Val were lucky, he would have thought up a plan to save Peter from himself.

    Four hours later, after checking that Peter was still sleeping, Val took the signed papers back to his father’s study and left them on the desk. If he’d read everything correctly, the bulk of the accumulated money would be deposited in his bank account at the end of the month, with the remainder tied up in stocks and shares to give him an annual income. He’d chosen to leave the papers when he knew his father was at his club, but he would have to speak to him about them at some point. He at least owed the man a thank-you for preserving his inheritance.
    In truth, he’d half-expected his father to pull out some legal reason why he wasn’t worthy to inherit the money. He’d assumed he’d want to keep him close, but it seemed he’d given up on that dream. Possibly because Val had made the last three years as hellish for everyone as he could.
    After putting the papers down, he lingered in the study to stare at the small portrait of him as a baby on his mother’s knee. She was blond, but he’d inherited her eyes and delicate bone structure. The rest of him came directly from his father. At least the marquess had been loyal to his Russian princess in financial matters. And, Isabelle, the new marchioness, had been unfailingly kind to Val despite his efforts to treat her with cold disdain and disinterest. And at twenty-one he was mature enough to realize that most men needed female companionship—even his father.
    He couldn’t fault the marquess for his meticulous accounting and tending to the Sokorvsky fortune, which would make Val independently wealthy of his father. He could’ve tied the money up so that his son couldn’t touch it for years, but he hadn’t. Val stared at the large portrait of the marquess, Isabelle, and Anthony that hung above the fireplace. It had become increasingly clear over the years that despite everything, his sire was willing to do anything to placate the eldest son he had replaced so effortlessly. And Val had tested and exploited that weakness to the absolute limit. Scandalous sexual liaisons, ridiculous bets, and gambling debts that had secretly shocked even him. His father had dealt with