Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 100493 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100493 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
“Ivy,” she says, exposing her slight accent.
“You waited outside in the snow. That’s either dedication or stupidity.”
The corner of her mouth lifts. “Well, I’m going to go with a bit of both.”
“Sit,” I tell her, lowering myself into the chair across from her. “Since apparently I'm in a forgiving mood.”
She claims a single sofa, lowering the hood and crossing her legs. “I’m sorry that I...”
“Why didn’t you come for me earlier?” The cut-off is rude and pretty shitty of me, but if I don’t like her answer to this, then I’m not going to want to listen to whatever else she has to say.
“We only—"she pauses, recollecting her words. "I only found out about you when Nonna was on the yacht, there to kill Emeric herself. She saw you and it changed her plans. She needed to get you out, but we knew we had to be smart. Better than smart, since Emeric was smarter than everyone, unfortunately.”
Silence.
I guess it makes sense, in a way that none of this should.
“I’m sorry, Ivanya, I do hope that one day you can forgive me. But there is something that I do come to you with.”
That’s rich, but I let her speak because Asher.
She clears her throat, pulling a clear folder from her coat. “You can deny this offer or take it. It is up to you.”
I flip open the pages. The folder holds file after file of names, drawings, and codex outlines.
“What is this?” My fingers tighten around the folder.
She chews on her lip. “That is the Dubois Maison. I understand that you would want nothing to do with it, but there is a whole family line that still needs a leader, and since you are the next, it’s only right it goes to you first.”
Heat crawls up my neck.
I drag in a breath and let it out slowly.
Emeric, is my father, and if what Asher was saying about Emeric, Parker, and Aléia being the rot is true, that means there are a lot that are innocent.
I could make a change.
“I’d be training them my way,” I say, flipping through the details.
Pages of methods I recognize. Techniques Emeric used. I’d burn half of them before I let them touch another person, but a lot of them I can work with. Switch around and build better ones. They’ll study every technique, saving the hands-on work for the field.
Unless we find some test dummies that truly deserve it…
I stop flipping, looking up at her. “As in they’ll be hunting the very things I did, until another House needs our help.”
Amélie doesn’t answer right away.
Her fingers knot in her lap, one hand trapping the other before she can reach for me. “I guess being married to Le Parrain, you can do whatever you wish.”
A small smile pulls at her mouth.
Could that be pride?
“And I have to say, I’m glad.”
The folder snaps shut in my hands. I’ll do whatever I can to keep another Emeric from running this world.
I cross to the small bar fridge, pull out a couple of beers, and hand her one before sitting back down.
“Another question,” I say, taking a swig. “Tell me about les amants maudits.”
Amélie laughs, her head tipping back as her voice rises over the crackle of the fire.
“Well,” she murmurs, and her eyes find mine as she takes a slow pull of her beer. “Judging by the history between you and your lover, I’m going to go ahead and say that there’s no explanation necessary.”
I snort into my beer. “Ah, we’ve almost killed each other. Multiple times.”
She tips her bottle at me, mouth curved. “Exactly, the cursed lovers.”
I thought I could ignore the translation a little longer.
888 Veilarath Lane glows in the dark, pulling a smile onto my lips. Bodies move through gold light and steam-fogged glass. Khloe crosses the kitchen with two plates in her hands. Jord cuts behind her and says something that makes her turn and shove him with her elbow.
My chest squeezes.
“Come inside,” I say, swallowing past the lump in my throat. “Have dinner with us.”
She looks past me and to the manor, then back. “I can’t. I need to head back to Désamour.”
Fine by me. I’ve already burned through tonight’s generosity. This relationship needs a slow build.
I set my beer on the table and pull my phone from my coat pocket. “I can have Daniel take you.”
She chuckles. “I have my own Daniel.”
"Well then," I add, rising. "Get back to Désamour in one piece. I’d hate to finally meet my mother just to lose her in transit.”
She stands with me, folding one hand over the other. “I will do my best, Ivanya.”
I dip my chin once, unwilling to push my luck any further tonight. Between Asher on the mountain and trading beers with my mother over cursed lovers and inherited mob families, I’ve hit capacity.