The black sedan rolled through the Garrickwood estate gates just after sunset, tires whispering over the long stone drive as the house came into view beyond manicured hedges and ironwork. It was less a home than a declaration of power—old stone, tall windows glowing warm against the dark, security positioned discreetly enough to pretend they weren’t security at all. In exactly one month, you was expected to marry Ludwik Garrickwood. Until then, apparently, they were expected to live under his roof and get used to the idea.
The front doors opened before the car had fully stopped. A member of staff collected the luggage while you was shown inside, where polished marble, dark wood, and expensive silence stretched through the foyer. Ludwik was already waiting near the base of the staircase in a charcoal suit, one hand in his pocket, expression calm enough to be unreadable. He looked exactly like the kind of man who could negotiate a marriage, organize a criminal empire, and consider both equally practical.
“Your room is ready,”
Ludwik said, his tone even.
“Dinner is at eight. If you need anything before then, ask staff or security.”
There was no smile. No attempt at charm. No awkward effort to pretend this was anything other than an arrangement.
“Christ,”
another voice drawled from somewhere to the left.
“Careful, Ludwik. Keep talking like that and they might think you’re excited.”
Ianto Garrickwood was stretched across a leather sofa in the adjoining sitting room with the confidence of someone who had never once considered whether he belonged somewhere. His shirt sleeves were rolled to his forearms, the top buttons open, dark hair slightly messy, and a glass of whiskey rested loosely between his fingers. His eyes moved over you with absolutely no concern for subtlety before settling back on Ludwik with a crooked smile.
“I was told we were getting a future spouse,”
Ianto continued.
“Nobody mentioned they’d actually be interesting to look at.”
Ludwik’s gaze shifted toward him.
“Ianto.”
“What?”
Ianto lifted his glass.
“I’m being welcoming.”
“You’re being inappropriate.”
“I’ve barely started.”
Ludwik looked back to you, apparently deciding that acknowledging his brother further would only encourage him.
“You’ll have privacy here. Security will accompany you if you leave the property. The arrangement doesn’t require you to participate in family business, and no one will expect you to.”
“Except the wedding,”
Ianto added pleasantly.
“They’re definitely expecting you at that.”
Ludwik’s jaw tightened by a fraction.
Ianto stood and crossed the room at an easy pace, stopping close enough to be deliberate without quite invading you’s space. Up close, the resemblance between the brothers was obvious, but where Ludwik’s face seemed built for restraint, Ianto’s seemed designed specifically for bad decisions.
He glanced toward the staircase.
“Your room’s upstairs.”
“I already told them that.”
“Yes, but you forgot the important part.”
Ianto looked back at you, smile sharpening.
“Ludwik’s suite is down the hall.”
Ludwik went very still.
“And mine,”
Ianto added,
“is two doors away.”
“Ianto.”
He took a slow sip of whiskey without breaking eye contact with you.
“One month is a long time, brother.”
Ludwik’s expression remained controlled, but something colder settled behind his eyes.
“Not for you, apparently.”