“Unfortunately, my obligations to the families make that impossible,” my father continued, pausing for another puff on his cigar. Wisps of smoke trickled from his mouth. “We used to be five families, brought together with a covenant under the leadership of the Hunters.”
My brother’s wide eyes fell to Ian. A flurry of whispers grew near the head of the table. Neither Sal nor my mom understood what was going on, but my stepfather’s glances at Ian next to him had a calculating glint.
“The Hunters are gone,” my father continued. His head dropped and his eyes squinted shut. He shook his head. “But the covenant remains and I abide by it. In the unlikely event that a Hunter lives and meets the requirements in the covenant, it is their right to my chair, more than my duty to give it. If not, my Ewan shall take control of the Families’ interests.”
“Covenant?” The word burst from my brother’s mouth.
The ass next to him goggled and shook his head. The older men around the table must have understood the implication themselves. Less hostile eyes glanced toward me and Ian. He hadn’t explained the whole thing to me, but even I could read a room better than my brother.
“Yes, it was the founding agreement of the families signed in 1892,” the old lawyer answered.
He tapped a button on the computer in front of him. My father’s image gave way to a picture of a yellowed type-written document. He picked up a folder and browsed the paper inside for a moment.
“We of course have the original copy if you wish to check its veracity,” the lawyer said, holding the folder closer to his face, “but I will read the relevant clause relating to leadership falling to one of the other families from the Hunters. I quote: “‘In the event no male Hunters are of age at the death of The Hunter, a regent from one of the other families will take control. The next male Hunter married into that family shall lead when the regent falls.’”
The room fell deadly silent. The clause’s old-timey language needed a few moments to parse. Ian lifted our clasped hand. The diamond on my finger glittered prettily, even in the lowered lights. More and more of the people around the table stared at my ring.
12
Meet the New Boss
Ian
Reality rarely met expectations. We fantasized incessantly both about the realistic future and about far out scenarios like winning the lottery. Built up and reenforced in our minds, actual reality lost its luster even when you tasted the sweetest victory.
But as I stood in the silent room, offering Emma a hand to follow me, reality surpassed every daydream I’d had since the bastard had killed my family. The click of Emma’s heels almost echoed in the still quiet room. I nodded to the solicitor; my solicitor now.
“Mr. Hunter and Ms. Turner were married just over a year ago at St. Leonard’s,” the solicitor said. “I have checked the copies provided by Mr. Hunter against the national registry and can confirm their legality.”
A picture of my and Emma’s marriage certificate blinked to the screen. I still owed her £15,000 for her loopy signature, money well spent. She flashed me a quick glance, one eyebrow high, her own silent reminder of that debt, a small sum compared to what I owed her.
“This… this…” Ewan Turner sputtered and hopped to his feet. He pointed a shaking finger at me and the solicitor, sneered at Emma. “This is bullshit. The Hunters are all dead, My dad saw to—”
He shook his head and his mouth snapped shut. His glare remained. My solicitor was made of stern stuff and barely reacted. He’d worked his entire legal career for a criminal organization, my criminal organization now, so it wasn’t unexpected. He tapped another button and the screen changed again.
“When Mr. Hunter first approached me, I anticipated objections and made sure to confirm his parentage,” my solicitor said. “Here is his birth certificate, and I even went so far as to look up his primary school records. They included a fingerprint that matches the Mr. Hunter who stands before us.”
“But he was in the car,” Ewan stammered.
“Was I?” I asked. “The fire cremated my parents and my sister. It is no surprise that everyone assumed I’d been in the car.”
“But someone would have found you, we would have found you,” Ewan almost yelled.
He would have continued, but the man who had been sitting next to him grabbed his arm. That man, the same one Emma had been angry with the night we’d met, before I’d slammed his head into the bar because I thought he had recognized me, sure did now. I guess I’d earned that glare.
“My father worried someone might take a shot at us,” I said, ignoring the old man’s glare. “He made arrangements should such an attack happen. Your father already found the rest of my family, they made sure you wouldn’t find me.”
Ewan sneered. His cheeks had gone beyond purple. No one spoke, nobody refuted my accusations. The son of the guilty glared at me but then his eyes took in the room. He was smart enough to see the shift, at least.
“A great wrong occurred when my family was killed,” I said to the room. “The perpetrator of that crime is dead. I’ve returned to claim my family’s rightful position according to the covenant that has guided our organizations for well over a hundred years. As far as I’m concerned, there is no more need for retribution or recrimination.”
Most of the men at the table nodded, some slower than others. The lieutenants of the families, they were businessmen when you cut to the quick. As long as my rule kept them flush, they would support me. Backing my brother-in-law had them breaking the covenant.
Beside me, Emma squeezed my arm. As I spoke, she’d played the part perfectly. A slight smile on her face, she’d offered adoring looks to help sell our marriage to those who’d watch her every blink to discover our trickery. She was probably still thinking about her inheritance.
“Don’t mistake my lack of blood lust for weakness,” I continued, eyes on my angry brother-in-law. “I will deal with any threats to me or my family, including my wife and mother-in-law, swiftly and permanently, if provoked.”
The men sitting beside Ewan jumped to their feet to hold him back. He couldn’t beat me with words and contracts. If they hadn’t grabbed his shoulders, he’d have discovered that switching to violence wouldn’t see him out on top.
