Chapter 1 – Xavier (54 years)
Six Months Later
Driving through the tall black gates that led to my home, gravel crunching under the tires of my Aston Martin, I stared out the windscreen, appreciating my looming kingdom. Winthrop Castle was the most expensive stretch of real estate along the Jersey coastline, possibly England. At least, that’s what realtors liked to say. I didn’t bother arguing otherwise. As a descendant of King Sinclair Winthrop and his esteemed line of heirs, I didn’t have to. Our wealth spoke for itself.
I stopped outside the large wooden doors just as Saint and my nephew appeared in my rearview mirror, their motorcycles roaring their arrival. Climbing out of the car, I waited for them to approach.
“When did you get in.” I embraced my son. “Levana with you?” I asked as we parted. My beautiful daughter-in-law was a first-year Bachelor of History student, and while they still lived in San Francisco, where Saint continued to teach, they often came home. She loved exploring the castle alone, calling it research, and sometimes one of us accompanied her to answer her curious questions.
“Got in this morning. Levana is somewhere in the castle as usual.” He grinned.
I’d been at a breakfast meeting all morning, and why I wasn’t aware he’d arrived yet. “Rhett,” I greeted my nephew.
“Uncle.” He leaned in for a quick hug. “I took him for a spin while we waited. Old chap still has some spunk in his loins. Levana hasn’t sucked him dry yet.” He chuckled, earning a scowl from my son.
Laughing, I turned as Wilkes, my head of security, appeared from around the building. “Chopper’s ready, sir.”
“Good to go, boys?” We were flying into our London offices.
“Give me a second to let Levana know I’m leaving, Father.”
“We don’t have time for a quickie, Seb,” Rhett teased.
Ignoring him, Saint hurried indoors while Rhett and I followed Wilkes to the helipad.
Flanked by Saint and Rhett, I entered the boardroom an hour later to find all the members of Winthrop Holdings already seated. As the president—a position scorched into my soul the moment I came into this world as the second son to my father, I took the wing-back seat at the head of the polished mahogany table. We both knew my eldest brother wouldn’t survive past thirty-five unless we broke the curse, which is why my father began grooming me to take over the family business from a young age.
I glanced around the room, acknowledging my seven brothers, three sisters, my father’s remaining eight brothers, and the eldest of each family head with a nod while Saint slipped into the seat on my right. As my successor, he’d been invited to all the meetings since his twentieth birthday. On my father’s death and with the agreement of my uncles, I’d taken over the entire Sinclair reins. Unlike most prominent families, we never had any altercation for power. Everyone had a role to play, and we made decisions together.
Family before friends, wisdom before haste, loyalty before ego had been entrenched into every single Sinclair since birth.
Respect was key.
“Thank you all for attending this meeting today. I know it’s not the norm, but I felt it necessary to address what transpires hereon.” I glanced around the table, taking in their avid attention. “Let’s face it. Getting all of you in a room at the same time has become a bit of a chore since the curse broke six months ago.” I chuckled, not blaming the men for wanting to test whether the curse existed.
The door opening had all heads turning toward it as Rhett’s father, Oliver, walked in. His face plastered with smug defiance, and hands folded over his chest, he leaned against the wall. Unsure who’d called him, I caught the disapproving stares from the others. They didn’t like him, and with good reason.
“Now that we’re all here,” I said, intent on keeping the peace. “I have an announcement.”
“Are you retiring, old man?” Rhett called out with a cheeky laugh.
“Give him a break, Rhett. The man still has about ten years of lifeblood before his retirement age, and he’d probably kick your arse in any sports match,” my youngest brother sniggered.
“Game on,” Rhett scoffed. Unlike his father, the entire family loved Rhett. Like Saint and his green eyes, my nephew was born with a distinct anomaly that set him apart from the other Sinclairs—his blonde locks. Given my fondness for him, he never hesitated to test my boundaries. “Whips and chains, uncle.” He waggled his brows at me. “I’m guessing you haven’t played in a while?”
It was no secret I’d stepped back from the hardcore fucking I’d occasionally indulged in. While I thoroughly enjoyed it, the BDSM lifestyle had grown tedious. Either that or I hadn’t found someone who’d engaged all my senses.
Laughter broke out around the table. Shaking my head with unconcealed mirth, I caught Saint’s frown in my periphery. I understood his surprise. We shared a look, and I offered him a placating smile, promising to discuss what he’d just learned, later. Out of respect, I knew he wouldn’t question me now.
