The next group won’t be smiling, though.
“Mind if we join?” Wilson Marks stands with Senator Graves, and I hold back a grimace.
Kenji looks at me, then says, “Not at all.”
It’s not like we could say no to Senator Graves; he’s one of the Eight. Every chapter of Echelon Vanguard answers to the Eight—eight powerful men who pull every string behind the scenes. No one becomes a member of EV without unanimous approval from all eight leaders, and there’s only one way in: a ruthless initiation known asthe Carving.
“Bidding tonight, Slade?” Wilson asks, chest puffed and preening. The man is short, which explains the Napoleon complex.
I nod.
“He always does.” Senator Graves smiles over the rim of his glass.
“And where’s Vaughan tonight? Too busy with work, I take it?”
Graves’s jaw tightens at the name. He shifts subtly, brows drawn over narrowing eyes. Vaughan Astor. Probably one of the richest members in all of Vanguard combined. Because of that, the Chicago Eight hate him. They view him as a necessary evil, though. Vaughan is nonnegotiable, and the best at what he does.
Kenji answers. “He’s in the final negotiations for the island he’s purchasing in Greece.”
Graves snorts while Wilson curves his lip in disgust.
Jealous indeed.
“I’d think you’d be privy to his dealings, Slade. Didn’t you two use to be inseparable?”
Internally, I snort. We went to a private high school together. Inseparable is a far-fetched statement. I offer Wilson a blank stare.
“He’snotgoing to answer you,” Kenji says.
I could. I know it would be easier to just reply to him, to my grandfather, oranyone, but six months into my term I realized my voice was just another currency Henry DuPont wanted to spend. We were in D.C. early on—he used to follow me there, not ready to give up his influence in the House yet. He orchestrated his way into one of my committee meetings and tried to advise me on a bill tied to Chicago infrastructure. Federal grants were on the table—money that could’ve gone to housing repairs on the West Side. I told him I was going to back it. It’s what was best for my constituents and for Chicago. When I said that, he didn’t even look up from his notes before he shot it down.“No one invests in neighborhoods that can’t donate back.”
The next day, before I could speak to any press, he went on record sayingour officeopposed the bill because it “lacked fiscal accountability.” A polite way of telling the poor they weren’t profitable.
Press can twist your words, misquote them. My grandfather tried to use them for sure. But silence? They can’t own that. So, I keep my words as my last bit of control.
It started more situationally rather than selectively, but it’s rippled into most aspects of my life. I … shut down. Most people don’t know what to do with my silence. The media ran a few tabloids calling it arrogance at first with headlines likeCongressman DuPont Thinks He’s Above Questions. After the hype surrounding my decision to keep quiet slowed, my peers called it a strategy.
Elliot handles press briefings and floor statements for me. The rest of my staff learned early to translate my nods, gestures, and notes into action, and they do a hell of a job with it. You don’t have to talk to be heard—you just need the right people in your corner. Sometimes I wonder if there will be anything worth prompting my words again.
Wilson chuckles. “I know. Never hurts to try. Isn’t that right, Slade?”
I nudge the rim of my glasses higher with a quick tap of my finger.
“If he was going to break his years of silence, he wouldn’t waste his breath talking to you; he’d talk to me.” Kenji grins.
Senator Graves laughs, and Wilson flips off Kenji while the announcer for the Market steps onto the stage. His suit is perfectly pressed, not a speck of lint, and his movements are like the predator he is. Naturally, his presence summons the attention of the whole club, and he divulges the details of how the evening will proceed. It’s all the same as last week, the week before that, and the week before that.
The red velvet curtains behind him shift, the slightest ripples in the fabric betraying the movement behind them. Ominous shadows dance in the folds, and as I glance around, the men hyper focus on the unmistakable flutters. The faint clink of chains, sharp against the low murmur of the room, follows the swaying curtains, and the sound causes many to salivate.
Kenji leans back, folding his bulky biceps over his chest, and rolls his eyes.
“The rules for bidding are as follows,” the announcer says. “All bids start at a ten-thousand guard coin, with payment in full due tonight before you leave. All bids are final, no retractions. Tonight’s arrangements are for one evening only. I will remind our esteemed patrons that delivery is expected tomorrow, and we’ll be monitoring to ensure a timely return.Attempts to bypass the process will result in a permanent blacklisting. Remember, discretion is not just expected, it’s enforced. Everything tonight has a price. The question is … how badly do you want it?”
There’s a hot breath in my ear as Kenji shifts near me. I stiffen. “The question is … why the hell do ugly-ass rich men need to spend this kind of money?”
I draw away from him and don’t bother to react. I let my expression hang flat as I stare at him.
He blinks, then grins. “You’re the exception, of course.”
