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“It doesn’t make sense. She’s dead, Zeno.”
“I know,papa.”
He softened at the term. “How do you think she’s connected to Miles Moretti?”
“I’m well aware that I have as many enemies as I do allies in this city. There are men who wouldn’t hesitate to take me out of the picture. Someone must have figured out I killed Armel and is now using his murder as an opening to bury me,” I stated. “And that same someone hired Miles Moretti—who no doubt despised me because I helped put him behind bars a year ago—to call the MPD with the tip. When I went to confront Moretti, he was already shot dead with the joker card in his pocket, and under his bed was a bag filled with fifty thousand dollars in cash. A hefty incentive for someone who just got out of prison. I have a strong inkling that the person who hired Moretti must have killed him after the job was complete. And while this could be anyone, there’s only one person that comes to my mind when I think of that text message…Antoine Toussaint.”
Yves jerked back like I slapped him.
“You know how Antoine was extremely protective of Violette. She swore to keep our arrangement a secret, but what if she told Antoine and he somehow thought I was responsible for her death? It’s not out of the realm of possibilities to assume he’d want revenge.”
“Zeno, this is a big accusation.”
My mouth pinched. “I know.”
“Antoine never liked you, but this is a little excessive, don’t you think?”
It wasn’t the first time someone tried to mess with me, but bringing my wife into this? That’s where I drew the line. I loathed knowing someone took a picture of Darla when her guard was down and had the balls to send it to me in such a provoking manner.
When I remained silent, Yves added, “You’ve been single and sought after for many years. You shouldn’t rule out the possibility that it could be someone else. Perhaps another woman from your past?”
“I’ve never done relationships, nor do I stick around long enough for a woman to form an attachment.”
“Understandable.”
I had my eyes set on Antoine after that strange birthday text; the motherfucker had never bothered to message me in the past. Especially not since he and his father flew back to France a few months ago. “I will say this with certainty: whoever hired Miles Moretti is linked to this.”
Yves nodded. “I don’t doubt it. The joker card and the text message are definitely not a coincidence. You should get in touch with Gustave. He might be able to provide more insight.”
I hoped so. Considering the text message was most likely sent using a burner phone that had now been destroyed, locating the culprit would be a headache and a half.
“Let’s keep this between ourselves, Yves. I do not want to worry the family until I have a more concrete outlook on the situation.”
“Parfait.” He stood up and brushed a hand over his suit jacket. “Don’t focus on this today, though. You just got married. Go find your wife and enjoy your day together. I’m sure she’s feeling lonely in this big house.”
Lonely.
There was that word again.
Yves walked around my desk to come to my side. A hint of pride gleamed in his face as he twisted the seigneur ring off his pinky finger. He opened my hand and placed the artifact on top of my palm.
My chest tightened.
I still needed to have my formal initiation as seigneur, yet he was giving me the ring regardless.
Forged in the 1800s, the seigneur ring was an amber stone canopied by a cluster of tiny diamonds, engraved in a twenty-four-carat gold band. It was a De la Croix heirloom and worn by the leader of the family.
Yves grabbed my face and kissed my forehead. “It now belongs to you, Seigneur Zeno Gianni De la Croix.”
“Merci,papa.”
The ring was a perfect fit, as though it had always belonged to me. I felt a renewed sense of purpose rushing through my veins.
Le seigneur des De la Croixes.
The heir to a bloody dynasty and an empire that was finally mine for the taking.
The journey ahead would be filled with adversaries, but I was prepared to kill anyone who tried to steal my kingdom from me.
