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I’d shape our legacy to bring more glory to our name, and I would continue ruling my dominion with an iron-clad grip as the new boss.
Céline walked up to me, a cloud of perfume trailing around her. She grabbed my face and planted a noisy kiss on my forehead. “On est tellement fier detoi.”
“Merci, maman,” I said gruffly, giving her a hug.
Éva followed suit, burrowing herself into my suit jacket. “Does this mean you’ll have less time to give me driving lessons?”
Ben taught her how to ride horses and I taught her how to drive the kind of fast cars that would put a dent in her daddy’s money.
“Non, Éva. I will always make time for you.”
Her eyes lit up and I ruffled her hair before Ben came to engulf me in a bear hug. He was four years younger than me, yet I always treated him the same way I treated Éva—like the baby of the family. He was nine when I got adopted and used to follow me around like a hopeless puppy, so excited to have another sibling. Growing up, I found it annoying how he casually dolled out his affection. However, the older I got, the more I realized how humbling it was to have family shower you with this kind of love and care.
“You did it.” He clapped my back. “Je suis fier de toi, mon frère.”
Frank Sinatra’s voice thrummed in the background on an antique record player as the low hum of conversation ensued. Céline went over the latest releases from Maison Sereno’s catalogue with Éva, while Ben and Yves talked about the recent hockey game. My family were avid fans of Montardor’s Ravens, holding season passes for many years now.
I edged closer to the window overlooking the vast estate, enriched with an artificial lake that gleamed in the moonlight, stable for our horses, a private chapel for us to find solace, a crypt built adjacent to the house, and an intricate maze boasting a pattern that twisted your mind. I’d gotten lost enough times in there to finally have figured the way out.
I felt Yves’s presence at my back. He pressed a pudgy hand to my shoulder. “Zeno.”
I turned around and he hugged me. Despite the blood on his hands, Yves was a gentle giant when it came to his wife and children. In front of the world, he treated me like his soldier. But behind closed doors, he was always soft like this, a family man through and through.
The amber stone ring on his pinky brushed my jaw as he cupped my cheek in a fatherly gesture.
The ring that branded him SeigneurDe la Croix.
The ring that would soon belong to me.
“Has the family from France reached out?” he asked.
Yves’s younger brothers—Jacques et Michel De la Croix—handled the family’s business in Europe. Everyone was aware that I was next in line for the seat. While no one was opposed, they weren’t exactly thrilled. There was no blueblood coursing through my veins. Not like them. Over the years, they’d come to respect me, fear me, and knew out of everyone, I was the most deserving of being the heir. “Not yet.”
Unfortunately for Jacques and Michel, they only had daughters. Women were protected and revered in our world, but they could not be initiated. Unless you were Céline, who liked to occasionally participate in the carnage by shooting up the traitors in our basement.
Nevertheless, De la Croix history made it so that the next successor must always come from the first born male—which was Yves—and be a man.
My father pondered over this. “Very well. I’ll talk to them soon. Now come, I have something for you.”
I followed him to his office desk and he signalled for Ben to join us. My brother swayed as he drained his third champagne flute. He could never control his alcohol intake. I clutched his shoulder to steady him before Yves yapped at him for being an idiot who didn’t know his limits.
“You spoke to Gustave, didn’t you?” Yves asked as I sank into a leather armchair. He pulled out a thick folder from his drawer and set it on the desk.
Gustave Melrose was the private investigator I kept on retainer.
I asked him to do some digging after the MPD was anonymously tipped with my name a few hours after the hit. The only person who knew I was going to kill Armel was Yves. Even Céline and Ben only found out about the murder during my birthday dinner.
Something wasn’t adding up.
I was in good standings with many key players in Montardor’s underworld. Those speculating I was responsible for Armel’s death wouldn’t dare to snitch. No one gave enough fucks about his pedophilic ass.
I was innocent until proven guilty, but I knew the MPD wasn’t going to drop my lead this easily. So I was going to figure out who tipped them and bury their body six feet beneath the ground of my personal graveyard. I kept count of my demons and I wasn’t above adding new ones to the pile.
Enemies came with the territory of our business. There would always be someone who wanted you gone. The trick was to eliminate them from the chessboard before they eliminated you.
After all, the king needed to be protected at all costs.
“I did,” I said brusquely. “I wanted a list of potential individuals who could have reached out to the MPD.”
