He leaned back, calm as ever.
“Sounds about right. What are you gonna do about it? You know Marcel is riding on you to connect with the Laveaus.”
“I’m going to marry her. She’s my right-hand man’s sister on top of it all. I can’t leave them hanging.”
“You know,” he said, “when I was arranged with my wife… she was an alcoholic and did coke.”
I turned my head toward him.
He shrugged like it was nothing.
“She was pregnant too. Hid it from her family. Hid it from me. I found out after the wedding when I fucked her for the first time.”
I blinked. “You serious?”
He nodded. “These heiress women don’t come packaged like Disney princesses. They come flawed. Broken sometimes. The parents of these women are predators. They hide the ugly parts so the deal goes through.”
I stared at him.
He continued, voice steady.
“I cleaned her up. Helped her get it right. Had our own kids. And now? She’s my wife for real, and we run shit on our side of the Delacroix’s. It can be life-changing.”
I leaned back, letting that sit.
“So what you saying?”
He lifted his glass.
“You’re doing right. Once she comes to her senses, she’ll thank you. Move her here. Get her help. Pop out with your build-a-wife in a year. Take down her fuckin’ family while you’re at it.”
I laughed under my breath.
“You make it sound easy.”
“It ain’t easy,” he said. “But it’s simple when you have money like us. You’re not marrying perfection. You’re marrying an empire you will be responsible for and change.”
That hit different.
Because that’s exactly what it felt like.
Responsibility.
Not romance.
Not passion.
Duty.
I watched the dancer move in front of me
Yuna didn’t even know her life was about to change.
Didn’t even know I was part of it yet.
The dancer leaned down near my ear.
“You want the room, chéri?”
