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Wednesday evenings were reserved for business-related dinners.
Yves waited for me outside of De la Croix Inc’s skyscraper, sitting in the back of a parallel parked Rolls Royce with his window down,the smoke from his cigar curling out in the air.
I chin-tipped François, who held the door open for me, and slid into the familiar leather interior of my father’s beloved Ghost. He had it for ten years and the first week he bought it, Ben and I hot-boxed in it while gazing at the star-studded ceiling.
One of the stupidest things we’d done in our wild youth and thank God Yves never found out. He would have whipped our asses into the next century.
Did I mention Céline joined us once she found our asses high as a kite? Nothing like a family bonding with marijuana and French opera—maman’schoice of music—in the cab of a half-a-million-dollar car.
“You’re late,” Yves said.
“I had a meeting with some board members.” Jacques and Michel De la Croix were present, along with the rest of the family who held shares in the company. They’d known for years I was next in line, but reintroducing myself as the successor was essential before it became public.
Yves trusted me to handle the interaction, knowing if I showed up alone to the conference call, it would set the tone.
“How did it go?”
François started driving, shamelessly cutting into traffic in a way that should have resulted in numerous honks. Funny thing was the more money you accumulated and the more expensive your car, the less likely you were to get honked at for breaking the rules. One of the more amusing things I experienced stepping into wealth.
“It went well for the most part. But there seems to be a bit of hesitation,” I confessed much to my dismay.
Yves’s dark gaze swung to mine, laced with understanding. “And where is this hesitation stemming from?”
“From the fact that I’m an unmarried De la Croix about to take the seat.”
We crossed a busy bridge as François led us to our favourite Italian joint,Diavolo. Ben stayed back to work some more, claiming to be behind on month-end reports.
“But you already knew that was going to be a problem,” I threw back at Yves, who’d conveniently told me a few nights ago I needed to get married in order to officially become the new seigneur. “You just wanted me to hear it from Michel and Jacques too.”
Yves stared at me with a calculating look in his eyes. I realized now Ben didn’t have ‘too much work’ to do.
This was an ambush.
Their way of Trojan-horsing me so I would do their bidding.
“All the previous seigneurs were married prior to assuming the throne,” he said.
I clenched my jaw. “I don’t care.”
Many men in our world married for alliances and to strengthen their status, but I had no interest in marriage. The last time Yves brought up this subject, I put a lid on it. I had hopes of being the first seigneur who wouldn’t be forced to marry before taking over the organization.
I thought my father was on board.
Apparently not.
“Zed, you know as well as I do that the family is traditional when it comes to our rules and pillars. We are above other organizations because of our ancestry and the image we uphold. Nobody dares to cross us because they are well aware of the power we possess. We want our reputation to remain as is and show our associates stability.” He scrubbed a palm over his silvering beard, the worry lines around his mouth creasing. “Ton frère, que Dieu le bénisse, has had too many public mishaps.”
Benjamin De la Croix had the remarkable inability of holding his liquor and was known for his public affairs. He’d once fucked the previous Canadian Prime Minister’s granddaughter in the elevator of a private party. Both drunk and high on coke.
To say it pissed off Yves, Céline, and the shareholding family would be an understatement.
Ben was at times, for lack of a better word, volatile.
Yves spent a lot of resources and time cleaning his youngest son’s fuckups in the past because honour and reputation meant everything to us.
“And you?” Yves continued with a shake of his head. “You’re intelligent, quick, and merciless. I’ve seen the way you work a boardroom as well as the skin off a traitor’s back. But your take no prisoner attitude doesn’t always resonate with the public eye, whom you also need to keep pacified. There are several layers to our businesses and several parties involved. You’ve proven yourself worthy to everybody in the underworld. Yet on the legal end, you need to prove to the corporate players that you have a touch of humanity beneath that tough, arrogant exterior. You’re a good leader, Zeno. You deserve to be where you are. But you still haven’t earned the seat until you do this one thing.”
I stared out my window, watching the scenic route blur by.
