“Willshebe a problem?”
“I told you, Sabine is fam?—”
“I’m not talking about Sabine.”
My eyes snap to his. Rabid anger snarls inside me.
“No,” I growl. “She won't. Because she won’t be involved with the Syndicate going forward.”
Quentin nods slowly. “Good. You mustn’t be distracted right now, Vaughn.”
“I’m not.”
“Every man can be distracted by a pretty face.”
“I said I’mnot,” I snap.
Quentin just arches his brows.
“There is one other thing.”
I rub my temples tiredly. “What.”
“Carson was…casualwith you, earlier.”
I frown as I glance up at him. “Of course he was. He’s one of my best friends.”
“Yes, but there’s a time and a place. Arthur was good friends with a few of his knights. But the round table came first. Remember that.” He peers at me over the rim of his glasses again. “There may come a time sooner than you know when Carson King becomes less a friend and more of a liability?—”
“This conversation is over.”
The words snap coldly from my lips. The observatory goes silent as I turn away, looking back out through the glass at the now darkened mountains.
“I’m merely here to help, Vaughn.”
“I know.”
“To see a legacy fulfilled.”
I nod, still looking out the windows as silence bathes the room. Eventually I turn to him, but of course he’s gone now.
“Thanks, Grandfather,” I murmur to the now-empty room. I lift my drink and swallow the last of the whiskey, then exhale as I leave the observatory.
Yes, it would have been nice to have Quentin Bancroft here to see all this unfold. But that’s a pipe dream.
He’s been dead for thirty years.
16
VAUGHN
Contrary to the rumors,not every Syndicate party is a demented orgy held somewhere like Club Venom.
That’s more Carson and Sebastian’s thing than mine or Gideon’s.
When I fuck, I don’t want, norneed,a goddamn audience to bear witness to my unhinged brand of sexual gratification.
I mean, the NDAs alone would be a fucking nightmare.
