Chapter 2: Nothing Is Forever, Mr. Miller

Marcus.

"What the hell am I doing here, Wendy? I have a lot to study. You promised me that if I came to spend the holidays with you, you would give me time to spend with Lean in London. I need to do an internship so I can start working with them in two years." This was my tenth complaint to my damn controlling older sister.

At times like this, I wished my other sister, Amelia Earhart, who was now somewhere in Asia perfecting her skills as a physical therapist, could take my place. That's the downside of being the youngest in the Miller family, at least among my generation. Everyone bosses you around.

“You know I need you, especially now that I have to escape the control of the Miller Goddess, especially because of her four grandchildren and even more so now that Finlay is away on business. If I tell Mom that you came to help me with your nephews on your vacation, she'll focus her efforts on Roy and my two nephews. The only one I feel sorry for is Hanna Banana, who is going to find herself in the middle of this all-out battle," said my "loving" older sister.

Honestly, I feel sorry for my brother-in-law and my nephews. They're living with a dangerous copy of our dangerous mother, who has her own manipulative ideas. On top of that, they have to live with a miniature replica of my adorable, two-year-old niece. It's the worst punishment you could wish on any man in love. Unfortunately, my brother-in-law is up to his ears in it." I thought this as I placed my four nephews in their car seats in the limousine that was taking us to the club where Wendy had arranged to meet her friends.

“Don’t try to fool me, Wendy. I know you're taking me along to babysit my nephews so you can criticize my brother-in-law and his friends." I said, trying to sound annoyed while tickling little Errol, the youngest of my four nephews and the calmest of my sister's three sons compared to the other two, Edwin and Iver, who are, at the very least, future state terrorists. Much to my delight, those little rascals made me laugh out loud with their antics. They were only two years old!

"Uncle Robin, me too," demanded Bonnie, using my Robin Hood nickname. Seeing her little brother laughing uncontrollably at my tickling, she made her usual demanding request, and I had to comply. With Miller blood running through her veins, it was clear that Bonnie Yvaine Alacintye would not take no for an answer.

"What are you complaining about when you're so happy? Look how you spoil them. Tonight, there's no stopping them. I advise you to wear them out at the club. Otherwise, putting them to sleep will take forever," said the manipulative Wendy as she got into the limousine.

"Oh, no! No way! I protest, Your Honor! I remind you that I am single and only twenty-one. As far as I know, I'm just the uncle. It's my duty to spoil them rotten, and then let their parents try to destroy what I've created. If you don't agree, I'll call the Goddess and the executioner right now to take action on the matter." I'm sure King Arthur will thank me for it," I said to my sister as I sat down next to Edwin, my sister's eldest son. He was a carbon copy of his enormous father and liked to imitate the masculine attitudes of all the men in the family.

"You wouldn't dare," said Wendy, looking at me with alarm and a dangerous warning in her blue eyes, so similar to mine.

"What do you think, Ailan Caroline Alacintye?" I asked my sister, crossing my arms over my chest. I noticed Edwin was doing the same, imitating me, and looking at his mother with an intense expression. I definitely adore my nephews. They're like a small army—dangerous and lethal, but adorable.

This is how Wendy's emotional blackmail was quickly resolved. Exhausting my nephews at the club was both complicated and impossible, mainly because there are four of them and they are all two years old. Three of them are especially intense. My precious Bonnie is a natural manipulator and conqueror—a worthy granddaughter of the Goddess Miller.

Nothing tired them out—not even the two hundred and twelve times I had to bathe with them in the children's pool. I noticed with some unease how all the married and single women with their own children stared at me, devouring me with their eyes. It must have been attractive to see a tall, muscular 21-year-old wearing only tight, boxer-style swim trunks and holding, splashing with, or carrying Bonnie, who had already staked her claim over her three siblings. Those four children were attractive even at two years old, although now they were screaming to get my attention.

"Uncle Robin! Uncle Robin!" was practically the only thing you could hear in the kiddie pool area.

Meanwhile, my sister laughed, drank cocktails, and sunbathed with Rocío Duncan, the wife of Oliver, one of my brother-in-law's best friends. Like my sister, Ailan, she was an architect and the representative of the artist, Carlota Zimmerman. Ailan was surely happy to have her stupid younger brother at the helm. Too bad her time to exploit me would soon be over in two weeks when she returned to Boston.

After I exhausted myself and those four little devils didn't, I threw in the towel. I took them to have lunch and spend the rest of the afternoon at the club's private daycare center for VIP members. There would certainly be more qualified professionals there than their exhausted, indulgent uncle.

After eating something substantial, what I needed was to go to the club's spa area and come up with an escape plan so that my exploitative sister, Wendy, wouldn't destroy my youth.

My life at Boston University is actually pretty quiet: studying, attending classes, and occasionally going out with girls who are neither complicated nor clingy. They know the rules of the game: some student parties and little else. It's the normal life of a university student, without complications. However, when I return to the United Kingdom, the burden of being a Miller is stressful, to say the least, especially if you are the youngest in the family, as I am.

I was heading toward the spa area just after lunch when the voice and figure of a woman reprimanding a man with clear contempt and laughter caught my attention. As I approached, I accidentally heard my name.

Soon, I saw a petite blonde in a white and yellow tennis uniform with a skirt that was a little short in my opinion. She had more-than-interesting curves, voluminous but appropriate, and eyes the color of the Coral Sea. But above all, she stood out for having a poisonous and viperous tongue and a totally brazen, cocky, and rude attitude.

She was a few feet away from me. That kind of woman was none other than Marilyn, the capricious heiress of the Lascalles. My mind soon vividly relived the memory of my cheek being slapped and of stealing an interesting kiss. Remembering it at that moment made me smile mischievously.

"Okay, Marilyn, you asked for it by mentioning me. I see you haven't learned your lesson. Let's go for round two, sweetheart," I thought, deliberately approaching the couple where the man was being humiliated by a princess with the tongue of a truck driver.

Author's note: As promised, the latest Miller novel is here. If you haven't read the other novels, I advise you to follow the order I left in the prologue. On the other hand, characters you already know appear, and I can tell you that almost all of the characters from the previous novels are here. I hope you enjoy it!