Chance is a fickle thing.
“Sounds like my kind of job. I’m in.”
AXEL
Everyone wants a piece of me—a nod of acknowledgment, a powerful handshake, or even a brief conversational exchange. Few ask for it though. It’s a respect thing, and fear and respect toe the same line.
If I show up at a guest’s table, meeting, party, or room, they’ve either made it into my inner circle or onto my need-to-watch list. There is a formal-request procedure for a reason. If they want my time, they make a plea for it, and it’d better damn well be worth it. For me. That’s not arrogance. It’s a by-product of running a resort that provides far more than hospitality.
In our world, the focus is on value rather than cost. Because the funds are available? Sure. But also because greed is plentiful and longevity is rare. Simply having me on their team is a life-changing commodity.
With my phone in hand, which currently has a string of texts from my brothers pinging through and a call I’m eager to take on hold, I cruise through the lobby. Members huddle in a lounge area, composed of grand bookcases, ornate geometric chandeliers, and tufted leather furniture. It’s a hub for upscaledebauchery, where they share cocktails, secrets, and plans for both duplicity and celebration to the tune of jazz music and the fragrance of cloves.
Since it’s evident I have somewhere to be, no one vies for my attention. Bernard, our premier concierge butler and my most trusted confidante, already has the penthouse elevator open for me. He tends to anticipate my every move.
I step inside, let the doors close, and raise the phone to my ear. “Give me another minute to get to my office. Would you prefer I call you back?”
“No. I’ll wait,” Wells replies.
That is a tad unsettling. His plate is full, so waiting means he can’t risk my getting distracted and not returning his call immediately.
Wells and I have been friends for years—one might even say we bonded in another life. I met him when my parents were still alive, when my interests were sports and leisure and being young. And, yes, running my father’s empire. That was always a goal. But I had time. And Wells had storms to weather. A lot happened to carve us into the men we are today. Our connection existing apart from those trials is one of the reasons I trust him more than anyone outside of my family and Bernard.
It’s doubtful he’s staying on hold as merely a friend. We’re also colleagues because my empire stretches far beyond what my father’s did.
My power is in La Lune Noire—the venture my great-grandfather began with a speakeasy for organized-crime syndicates. My five siblings and I have grown it into a resort that practically functions as its own city, providing a refuge to the nefarious underworld. We also own a worldwide hospitality franchise, and I’m a seat holder for a secret society called KORT—a cabal whose impact spans the globe and is arguably unmatched. There are five primary seats, each of us contributinga different specialty derived from our individual organizations. Wells has a seat too. As does his wife, Ivy.
The elevator deposits me directly in front of my penthouse door, so I hurry inside and beeline for my office. I have one here for more confidential matters and one with the other offices to consult with staff. It’s quiet at home today. Some of my siblings still live here, so it’s generally hopping with life.
“Go ahead,” I tell Wells as I shut my office door and stride to my desk.
“We’ve had another threat,” he begins.
So, I was wrong. He’s contacting me as a friend and a colleague. It’s the murky middle we navigate. He has three men who are like brothers to him. All are married. One of them, Ty, happens to be my brother-in-law—my youngest sibling and only sister, Rena’s, husband. All four couples—Wells and Ivy, Liam and Celeste, Gage and Leigh, and Ty and Rena—live together in a grand French chateau about a half hour from here.
“It was subtle,” he goes on, undoubtedly shaken. “Pictures, focusing on the girls and kids, after our last visit to you. We had driven through the French Quarter and grabbed some treats that Rena was craving. It was an oversight to have them anywhere public. We’d gotten too comfortable with the stretch of calm we had.”
They’ve had someone taunting them since a security breach happened here a little over two years ago. Someone came after them under my goddamn roof. It’s the only one I’ve ever had in my nineteen years of running La Lune Noire. They’ve been living like prisoners since. So far, they’ve managed to keep their actual residence a mystery. But that means no visitors and very few outings. We still haven’t caught the person behind it.
Concealing my stress because he has enough of that, I keep my voice steady. “Any message with the pictures?”
“No, but …” He hedges, likely deliberating on how to drop the next bomb. “It will eventually escalate, so we’re taking the investigation up a notch. We need to expand beyond the members who were there that night because our well of leads is running dry. Anyone who comes in and out of your establishment will be a suspect. We want someone in there to get an inside view.”
I don’t love the sound of that. I’m protective of what we’ve built here. “I qualify as someone on the inside. Tell me what you need.”
That suggestion doesn’t suit me either. I hate when my worlds collide.
“Maybe someone slightly more removed.” He chuckles, but it’s mirthless. He’s weary. “Even we’re too close to this, Axel. I’m concerned we’re missing things because there’s so much on the line. I’ve got a guy I’m consulting with. He’s got a good sense for people. Maybe he’ll find something that can’t be found with traditional research.”
I saunter to the bar, pouring myself two fingers’ worth of Glenfiddich 30 Year. “When are you thinking?”
“Soon.”
I sip my whiskey, willing the comforting burn to clear my head. “Is this KORT-approved?”
“Of course,” he booms, and the lift in his tenor suggests he’s about to deliver news he wants to cushion. “I ran it by Jared and Payne. They’re in favor. In fact, their concern was amplified by something else we’d found.”
Jared and Payne are the other two seats with KORT. He spoke to them before me, which could only mean one thing. I make him spell it out anyway.
