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“Why?”
She didn’t glance my way as she slipped into her dress. Cursing, she tried to smooth her hair into place. I crossed towards her, but she started backing away. “J-Just one night, right?”
“Stay,” I rushed out. “Stay a little longer so I can tend to you. I was quite rough with my belt—”
“It’s fine, trust me. I have to leave; my friends are waiting. This…this was great, okay? Thank you for an unforgettable experience. I really appreciate it.”
I reallyappreciate it?
Was she kidding me?
Though I’d been the one in the past to dish out thehit-it-and-quit-ittalk after a casual fuck, her leaving in a haste suddenly made what we shared feel cheap. I wanted to stop her, but she’d already opened the steel doors and slipped out.
I was left standing there like a fool, shirtless, with my pants open. The unmistakable sense of disappointment, which was new to me, left a sour taste on my palate.
Darla’s forgotten pearl barrette mocked me as I bent down to pick it up.
I squeezed it in my fist, feeling the beginning of anger and another emotion I’d rather not think about.
CHAPTER 6
Throne of Hell
Zeno
Twenty-one years ago, I swore my allegiance to the De la Croixes during my initiation ceremony.
Then I spent the following years perfecting my craft. By day, I was a cutthroat businessman, working to expand the legal and illegal side of our business, tripling our net worth and continuing to establish us as one of the most influential crime families in the world.
By night, I was the very punisher Yves bred me to be, killing those who wronged us and wrecking chaos on anyone who dared to cross me.
The underworld was swarming with filthy criminals, but there weren’t many who possessed the grit and skills to leave a lasting impression. My reputation and credentials preceded me. Most individuals in Montardor knew that I was not to be trifled with—you were either with me or against me.
For two decades, I worked restlessly towards my end goal and proved myself worthy of becoming the next seigneur.
Now I would finally possess the full power to solidify my reign over this city.
In the dark perimeters of Yves’s study, the entire family circled the poker table while Ben popped open a bottle of champagne. They cheered loudly as it overflowed and I grinned, shaking my head.
Éva was only allowed sparkling apple juice. She rolled her eyes when Ben passed around our flutes. “Spoilsport,” she mumbled.
Yves raised a toast to me, beaming. “Zeno Gianni De la Croix.Mon fils, you have made me tremendously proud. Today, I pass the torch to you.”
Ben, Céline, and Éva whooped and clapped.
I raised my glass to Yves and took a swig. The first sip of liquor after a spear of congratulatory words always hit your taste buds differently. “Merci, papa.”
Thirty five years later, Yves was stepping down as the head of De la Croix Inc. His retirement was celebrated this morning at the office and now, with just the family gathered in his study, he was giving me the one thing I was always destined for.
The throne to the De la Croix dynasty.
All of it was mine.
Along with every inch of bloodshed and corruption etched in its history.
From the minute Yves took me under his wing, I became his eldest son, his confidant, his underboss, and now his heir. I grew up with so little that every abundance given to me, I cherished like a dying man did his last breath.
This would be no different.
