Based on the greetings, Lorenzo already knew Peter, Andrew, and Laura, but not Gaston. Interesting. Ethan trusted Lorenzo’s judgment, but he’d stay on his guard. Whatever info Anda had needed to get to Marcello, she’d also passed along to him once she’d learned he was to be at the meet. There wasn’t much in the files, but there were some troubling discrepancies.
Lorenzo nodded. “Thank you very much for meeting with me.”
Gaston crossed his arms over his burly chest and sniffed. “Won’t do much good. The strike’s gonna happen.”
Peter shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. “That’s not decided.”
“As good as,” Gaston said gruffly. “Our pay’s been the same for years now. Not one raise.”
Lorenzo spoke straight. “There was a recession. Hardly anyone’s salary rose.”
“The Royal Council’s did,” Andrew muttered.
“Believe me. If I or any of my family could have stopped that, we would have. But with the Council, there’s always more than meets the eye.”
Andrew’s mouth curled down in disgust and his nostrils flared. “And that justifies their behavior?”
“Nothing justifies their behavior,” Lorenzo said with a finality that could not be misconstrued. “I’ll remind you that Council members have tried to murder members of my family, or conspired to do so, and most recently tried to prevent my brother, the future king, from marrying the woman he loves.”
Ethan swelled with pride for his brother.
When an uneasy silence filled the air, Lorenzo continued. “The Council should and does serve a purpose, but not all those on the Council fulfill that purpose or their duties.”
Ethan placed a hand on Lorenzo’s shoulder. “He’s right. It hasn’t been easy for us the last few years. We never know who’ll try to kill us next. It’s worse for me, most of all.”
Lorenzo stared at him, wide-eyed. “How do you figure that?”
“I’m always shipped out and abroad. I was on Vallerian soil maybe six times in the last year until Papa fell ill, and I’m lucky to even get that. Most soldiers would see their families once a year, if at all during their deployment. What do you think it does to me, being so far away when assholes try to kill our family?”
Ethan turned to the group. “Some of you know. You know what it’s like to leave your family, to know something horrible has happened and you can’t leave your assignment, or your ship, or anything to go and help.”
Laura cleared her throat. “Yes. Yes, we do, Captain Santoro.”
Lorenzo spoke softly. “Our family, the monarchy, we want what’s best for the country and for its people. A strike would not be good for anyone. Peter, you’re the regional head of the union. Surely, you understand this.”
Peter nodded. “David Field, our union leader, however, does not. That’s what Gaston is referring to, and why he feels the strike will take place.”
“You know the union won’t be able to cover strike pay for very long. The MARC can help, but only so much. And workers like yourself, Gaston, wouldn’t be eligible for MARC benefits.”
Gaston shook his head. “It’ll work out in the long-term. I can live with less. I have lived with less, and I haven’t a family. I’ll have more later.”
Lorenzo tried appealing to Gaston. “And will all the other workers affected by this strike be able to live with less, too? Those with children and extended families they care for? Do their lives not matter?”
Gaston’s defensive posture relaxed a little, but not enough. “It won’t matter. They’ll vote for the strike. Field is the only one who can help them. They’ll see that.”
Ethan frowned. Anda hadn’t sent any data on Fields, but he’d ask her to look him up as well. Something wasn’t right here.
They continued talking to the group. With the vote to strike two days away, it wouldn’t be easy to get support against it. Not to mention, it sounded like Fields was abusing his position in other ways, too.
Christ. Now, he’d have to look into the bastard. Though Ethan had access to some databases because of his position and clearance level, Anda had access to more. His next call after this meeting would be to her.
Lorenzo ended the meet, taking an extra moment to encourage Laura to speak to a counselor at the MARC, or Masillian Advanced Recovery Centre, which Lorenzo had built in a wing of his castle to help returning soldiers with their physical, mental, and emotional needs.
Ethan watched Laura leave, a frown on his face. “Do you think she’ll get help?”
They started walking their own path through the towering stacks, the agent following close behind. “I don’t know. She saw a therapist at the MARC, which is required for everyone who comes through there. Not everyone takes advantage of therapy—they’ll just sit through required sessions without saying anything—but some do. I don’t know if she spoke to them or not, and it’s not my place to know, but I’ll talk to her assigned therapist about it, just in case she comes back.”
“What if she hated her therapist? Wouldn’t that make it uncomfortable for her, if she did come back to speak to someone else?”
