Series: Cobalt Empire Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 220
Estimated words: 215301 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1077(@200wpm)___ 861(@250wpm)___ 718(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 215301 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1077(@200wpm)___ 861(@250wpm)___ 718(@300wpm)
I have no words.
But then I do, “Are you sure?” He’s the only one who has The Consummation of Empire. Consummation—as in complete fulfillment.
Beckett has no reluctance. “I think this one was always meant to be yours.”
Phoenix pushes the luggage cart into the elevator while I pull, and then I press the 21 button about five times. “Doors shut, doors shut, door shut.” They close on Charlie’s soured expression. I hope he heard my snicker and saw my middle finger.
“Too slow, Charlie Keating,” I muse to myself while standing victoriously on the packed luggage cart. I will be rehashing this epic takedown to Eliot.
Phoenix is half-texting, half-watching me. “You are such a fucking little brother.”
“He loves it,” I say. “Watch, I bet he’ll be at every city for The Carraways World Tour.”
Presales went live during the holidays, and it crashed Ticketmaster. Phoenix and I created a tour schedule that wouldn’t burn us out. All the shows are on the weekends, so we’ll be spending our weeks in New York with our brothers…and my sister.
Audrey’s existence in the city is still sinking in.
Even with a bellman’s cart full of her Prada luggage.
“Everything okay?” I ask Phoenix since he’s been texting one-handed.
“Birdie just told me he’s playing at The Manhattan Symphony next week. I was checking for tickets.” His eyes rise to mine with a little more apprehension.
After Nothing Personal’s tour ended last month, Birdie dropped out of the band. Apparently, he told Phoenix that he needed to be all-in somewhere. He chose the orchestra.
Phoenix has mixed emotions since it’s not what his brother dreamed of doing.
“You still live with him,” I remind my boyfriend. “You aren’t far.”
“Yeah,” Phoenix nods, trying to shift out of his rigid stance. He eyes the ascending numbers, and the elevator dings at 21.
I push and he pulls this time.
“I’m surprised you didn’t hire movers,” he says.
“Nothing says ‘I love you’ like manual labor,” I tell him. “And also, we didn’t want anyone stealing her stuff.”
He nods. “Checks out.”
We guide the cart down the hall, and I hook one of her Prada backpacks to my shoulder that tries to plummet to the ground.
“Do you hear that?” Phoenix asks.
“Yeah…I hear it.” A grin spreads across my face. Raw, feral vocals and melodies echo down the hall.
Music.
My grin takes on new heights as “Gold Lion” by the Yeah Yeah Yeahs beckons me to my siblings.
Phoenix pulls the luggage cart past my apartment. The neighboring door is ajar.
Apartment 2168.
We go inside as music flows out.
Decked out in heavy floral drapery and tapestries of mythological scenes, the living area feels rich, opulent, and cluttered like poets of the late 16th century made a home here. Elizabethan. Romantic. All velvets, damasks, silks, and warm tones.
It’s my closest brother come alive.
“Wow,” I hear Phoenix say, even over the noisy, howling, pounding song that has me throwing my head forward in pure delight.
Eliot is standing on the wine-red chaise, and he spins around the same time Audrey pops up from the settee. Their grins match mine, and I reconsider all my iffy feelings about my sister moving into our high-rise.
If she raises the volume this loud, I’m going to love having her here.
Therapy bills might increase, but love will be had, nonetheless.
After much back-and-forth, we decided to split up between the two neighboring apartments. Eliot and Audrey are living in this two-bedroom, and Ben, Beckett, Charlie, and I are still in 2166. We all agreed on this outcome, but some—namely, Charlie—called this a walking disaster.
He’s not a fortune teller. Just a naysayer.
Eliot hops off the chaise. “Welcome to our humble abode,” he greets me and Phoenix.
“We’ve found the abode,” Phoenix says. “Humble is missing.”
I applaud over my head. “Great song choice.”
“Harriet made me a playlist,” Audrey says. “I quite like it.”
Phoenix spins to me. “You like this, Tom?” Like it’s a shock I would be in love with a rock song.
“Uh, yeah, dude…” My voice tapers off at his strange grin and incoming laugh. “What am I not processing?”
“That’s practically a four-on-the-floor, nepo baby.” He points upward. “You hear it?”
The drum pattern.
The one I was adamantly against when we met. I wince. “I don’t hate it—”
“No, you love it.” He’s found the only humble pie here and smashed it in my face.
“I am now open to a four-on-the-floor,” I say with my arms spread. “Very open, very compromising.”
He walks right into my arms, just to cup my face. “Great, we can test it out tomorrow. I have an idea.”
“And I have a drum kit being sent to my room.”
“What—the fuck.” He jolts and flinches as my sister pops out from behind him.
“What’s a four-on-the-floor?” she inquires, like she didn’t just give Phoenix a heart attack.
“Don’t kill my boyfriend,” I warn her. “And it’s a drumbeat, Audrey Virginia.”
“Fascinating,” she notes. Her eyes twinkle deviously, then she skips over to her stack of books she’s shelving.