Catherine Devereaux was a complication I didn’t need.
Even as I headed to my office, I was lost in thoughts of the kiss, replaying it in my mind. She tasted sweeter than I’d imagined, cherries in the spring or the first bite into a ripe peach. She’dresisted at first, acting as if she was too good for the likes of me. But her true personality and the same longing I’d seen in her eyes from the minute we’d established a connection in the courtroom had won out.
After that, all I’d managed to think about clearly was unwrapping the beautiful package, discovering every inch of her body over time. A very long time. The nights of sin could prove healing but unfruitful.
Letting her go was the only logical objective, but she had seen me gun down a man. Did it matter she now knew why? Taking the risk wasn’t in my best interest.
“What took you so long?” Sinclair threw at me as soon as I walked in the door.
“Complications.” I rubbed my jaw and as soon as I did, I realized the scent of her perfume lingered on my fingers. If only they were covered with the fragrance of her sweet pussy. This needed to stop. There was business to attend to that couldn’t wait and certainly couldn’t be shoved aside based on my carnal needs.
“So we heard. The prosecutor. Interesting.” Montgomery had made himself at home, standing in my office with a drink in his hand. Granted, the lingering taste of her lips plus the bourbon had left me craving more of both.
“A last-minute substitution.” I headed to the bar, pouring a fresh glass. To think she’d really believed I’d spiked her drink was ridiculous. She truly had no clue who she was prosecuting.
“That usually means a setup.”
Chuckling, with my glass in my hand, I tipped my head toward Jaxon. “Not all things in this world revolve around us. Besides,I’m not firmly convinced I was the one on the chopping block today.”
Montgomery narrowed his eyes. “Whoa. Hold on. The prosecutor? Are you serious?”
“Maybe. One gunman was actively hoping to end her life. Or at least injure her. It’s possible the assassin believed she was of importance to me personally.” The thought certainly wasn’t far from my mind. Swirling the drink, the moment I inhaled I was intoxicated. Once again because her perfume lingered on my skin.
Sinclair sat down in one of the chairs, his brow as furrowed as my mind felt. “Then we find out everything we can about her. Before Armand does.”
“What has the bastard done?” My growl was full of hatred.
Montgomery half laughed. “Nothing yet, but he’s asking a lot of questions.”
“I should kill him and get it over with.” My words did little more than cause my brothers to glance from one to another.
“You do remember he’s family. Yes?” Sinclair’s question was tossed out casually, but he was staring at me.
“I’m painfully aware. What the fuck happened today?” My question wasn’t directed toward anyone in particular in the room, but it was full of agitation.
“So far, there’s no news. The police are still investigating and other than replaying the interview Ms. Devereaux gave to reporters before heading into court today, there’s a complete shut out of the press.” Sinclair was as perturbed as I was.
“I need to call Sebastian. They will eventually determine that I had everything to do with breaking a man’s face and killing another. Although I did use one of the asshole’s weapons.”
Sinclair whistled. “Be careful.”
“Self-defense,” Montgomery insisted. “I wouldn’t worry about it. We have far too many other things to contend with.”
“Given the fact our father had been keeping a secret from us and that someone slaughtered Lorenzo Russo, things are already dicey. Disguising the murder to make it appear as if I’d acted in revenge was brilliant.”
“You’re suggesting this is all a game?” Jaxon asked incredulously.
“With Lorenzo’s murder, things changed and we need all avenues examined very carefully. With the switch in the prosecution, I think worrying is perfectly acceptable.” There shouldn’t have been any secrets within the family. Maybe it was a casual lunch and nothing more, but my gut told me otherwise.
The silence in the room was a reminder of my position. Armand’s accusation had been partially correct. In my youth, I’d cared more about myself and breaking free of the chains born link by link by way of my name and heritage rather than being the rightful heir to the throne.
No longer.
My brothers and every man standing in the room were looking to me to define their roles moving forward. I’d always known I’d eventually be placed in charge of the regime. I’d been groomed for it. My entire life had been about preparing me to accept my coveted position as head of the French Creole Crime Syndicate.Owning New Orleans. Controlling the darkness, a phrase my ancestors had coined two centuries before.
It wasn’t a question of whether I wanted to follow in my father’s footsteps. It was simply a birthright I couldn’t ignore or run away from.
That hadn’t meant my entire life had been centered on those lofty goals. I’d had my own, which was why I’d left the family fold for a couple of years, determined to find my way. But I’d found my way back. I’d learned a hell of a lot about duty to family, loyalty, and respect.
