My hands move from my side to pat at Dad’s shoulders in one of those ‘man’ hugs he taught me. He feels like he’s made of cardboard. He’s not real.
Dad says a few more platitudes, then the three of us crowd into the back of a limousine with Nero, his bodyguards, and Dad’s lawyer, Sanderson, who is grinning like the Cheshire Cat as if he had something to do with Dad getting off scot-free. As if this wasn't all part of Nero Lucian's master plan.
I expect us to drive back to our house, but instead, Nero takes us to Vault. He pats my father on the knee as we pull up. “I thought you might like to see where your son has been getting his lessons in business.”
“Wow, son, look at this fancy joint. You’re moving up in the world, eh?” Dad squirms in his seat like a kid in a candy store. Why is he acting all buddy-buddy with the guy who stole Mom from him?
I don’t like this. I don’t like it at all.
Claws grips my hand, squeezing hard. She’s got my back, always. That’s what matters – not college, not Nero, none of this bullshit. Me and her and our family looking out for each other.
Nero leads our group upstairs to a private room. He takes our drink orders – a Long Island ice tea for Dad, dry martini for Mom, Macallan neat for Nero, nothing for me or Claudia – and rings down for service. I’m surprised to see Livvie arrive with the drinks, Essie wrapped around her shoulders. Mom startles when the snake turns her head toward her, and splashes her drink down the front of her low-cut court blouse.
Nero accepts his drink from Livvie with a fatherly smile. “I’d like you to stay.”
I can tell by the way Livvie bites her lip that she’s surprised, but she doesn’t let on. Instead, she takes a seat on a round ottoman on the other side of me, crossing her ankles and staring up at her father with prim obedience.
“We have some matters to discuss,” Nero says. “I’ve asked our women to remain because these matters concern them, too.”
Oooh, what a feminist.
Nero sips his drink. “I believe it’s best to be plain, so I’ll get right down to it. Don’t let my youthful exterior fool you – I’m not a young man. The expert surgeons of Emerald Beach have had their work cut out for them keeping this mug looking beautiful.” Nero swipes a finger lovingly across his cheek. “Recent events have made me increasingly aware of my mortality, and what my heir will make of the Lucian legacy after I move on.”
Here we go again.
The closest thing to being immortal is shaping a legacy. That’s why the Triumvirate is so concerned with blood. Men with power over everything in their lives except death trying to outdo themselves in the only competition that still has meaning to them, the only game where they might actually lose.
“I have always been a family man, as you know. I have many children who are scrapping it out amongst themselves to earn my favor, to be declared the rightful heir to my empire. Every single one of them is an imbecile.”
I dare a glance at Livvie, who’s holding back a snort of laughter.Not all of them.
“I refuse to leave my legacy to an imbecile, which leaves me with a problem. I’ve been wrestling with the decision of my heir for some time.” Nero steeples his fingers. “And then Elias Hart came to my attention.”
Claudia’s fingers gouge my thigh. “What?”
That’s my name.
Why is he saying my name?
Nero’s eyes hit mine, and when he sees my expression, he bursts into laughter. “My boy, don’t look so flabbergasted. You’ve been on my mind for some time. When Walter Hart was sent to prison, it was a blow for the Triumvirate – he provided a valuable service we have greatly missed. I followed the trial with great interest, and it was there I was first introduced to you. The Golden Boy of Stonehurst Prep: that’s what they call you. Straight A student, student council member, track star, bound for some fancy Ivy League college and a corner office. Clever, resourceful and, like your father, with the imagination to dream big. I simply had to meet you.”
This is insane. I must be dreaming. That’s the only possible explanation. Any moment Nero’s going to turn into a T-Rex and I’ll wake up with sweaty sheets and this will be nothing but a terrible nightmare…
“So, after the trial, I introduced myself to Darlene.” Nero smiles across the desk at her. It’s an indulgent smile, the kind you give to a favorite pet. The kind of smile that probably had my mother on her knees for him. (Gross.) But today, even she is too shocked by events to succumb to him. She throws her drink at him.
“You spent all that time wooing me – all those parties, the boat trips, the nights in your private island – to meet myson.” She jabs a frosted nail at me. “Him? But he’s so… sohonest.”
Sticky gin dribbles down the front of Nero’s suit.
“Exactly.” Nero’s smile fixes on me. “Eli is honest. He’s affable. He has that all-American smile. He’s the kind of person you trust implicitly, and that makes him the ideal heir to my empire.”
Um… what the actual fuck?
A lot of things happen at once. Dad grins from ear to ear like I’d just been offered a track scholarship or a thoroughbred horse or an enormous monster truck. Darlene’s on her feet, screaming at Nero. Livvie drops a glass, which smashes glittering shards across the rug.
He can’t be serious.
Nero holds up his hands for calm, and the gesture is so mundane and yet somehow manages to convey all the power and menace of his position. Everyone freezes. An eerie silence blasts the room. “The more I’ve observed of Eli’s work over the last few months, the more I’m convinced he’s the perfect heir. He’s loyal to a fault and always takes the time to think things through before he acts. He has a strict code of honor. And he won’t hesitate to be ruthless when his family is in danger. If only he had been born of my loins!” Nero claps his hands over his cheeks in mock dramatics.
