The Rule of Three (Salacious Legacy #2)

Prologue

Julian

“Everyone’s here,” Jack says as he takes his seat at the other end of the table.

The soft purple haze of the bar’s lighting reflects on the round glass in my hand, the thick silver ring on my finger tapping gently against the surface. My eyes stay downcast, uncaring and distant. As if I hardly notice where I am or who I’m surrounded by.

As if I’m a hundred miles away instead of at a table surrounded by my peers who are all looking at me, wondering the same thing: Is Ronan Kade about to pass down his legacy to his son or his godson?

My ring taps faster against my glass as I try to pretend I can’t feel their stares.

He addressed the email: Hey kids.

And by kids, he was not referring to me and my sister, Amelia. He was referring to all the kids—Jack, Elizabeth, Phoenix, Weston, me, and Amelia. Hell, he even threw in Liam, Austin, and Scarlett’s email addresses, although they are not in Paris and probably never will be.

My father has a heart of gold, doesn’t he?

Such a benevolent man. He gives out his love, his pride, his compassion for free to everyone. But the problem is free things have no value.

The man served me and my sister a life of luxury and ease, giving the same treatment to all his friends’ kids as well, even his precious godson, Jack St. Claire.

And if my father were a smart man, he would probably give the club to Jack. Jack is smarter, harder working, better at business and management and all the things it takes to run a successful club.

So why the fuck do I want it so much? To know my father has faith in me? To know he hasn’t given me a life of ease for nothing? To know I compare even a little to Jack?

The truth is I fully believe my father is about to give me the club…but not for one second do I believe I deserve it.

My stomach coils in my gut at the thought.

Sitting in the corner next to Amelia, I maintain my frigid, unapproachable front as I wait for the last person to arrive.

What Jack said earlier is not entirely true.

Not everyone is here. Jack’s sister, Elizabeth, is taking her time, as usual.

Like none of us have lives to attend to.

My father is retiring and about to announce his successor, and she can’t show a little punctuality.

Please meet at Geo’s tomorrow at 10 p.m. I have some news.

And that was it. I assume it’s Matis that’s going to show up at some point to deliver my father’s message. The tapping of my ring against the glass grows faster, so I take another drink to try and slow down the racing of my heart. I imagine the scene.

Would Jack be livid or relieved if my dad didn’t name him? It’s a scenario I’ve played a hundred different ways in my mind since that email came in.

The version that rings with the most truth is that my dad has called everyone here to give them some eloquent words of comradery before he tells them he has no choice but to keep the club in the family. He’ll probably encourage them to stick around, keep working at L’Amour, even after I own it.

But the truth is…they won’t.

Good riddance. I’m pretty sure they all hate me anyway.

“So do you think he’s coming?” Jack asks.

I scoff into my drink. “Yeah, right. He’s not coming. He’s probably on a yacht halfway across the world right now. He sent this email to trick us all into meeting here.”

Then I notice the worried look on Jack’s face and swallow the pity bubbling up inside.

“And what about your sister? She’s on the email too,” I add, watching for a glimpse of hope. Jack’s been through hell in the past few years. Shortly after the birth of his daughter, his wife passed from cancer. Since then, he’s lost contact with his sister.

Honestly, I couldn’t fucking imagine. My little sister is my best friend.

Growing up in the world we did, there weren’t a lot of people we could trust, but Amelia has been my rock through it all.

I’d kill, die, and do anything for her. If one day she stopped talking to me, I don’t know what I’d do. Well, actually, I do.

I’d turn into what Jack has turned into. He’s changed from a proud, content, hardworking man to a contemptuous, scornful, miserable ghost.

The door to Geo’s speakeasy opens, and Elizabeth slinks through the sparse crowd to find our regular table in the back. She won’t look anyone in the eye as she bitterly takes her seat, ignoring the rest of us.

As soon as we’re all assembled, a sense of anticipation fills the air.

“Now what?” Phoenix asks.

And just like that, my phone buzzes with an incoming email. As does everyone else’s. He must have spies casing the bar to alert him when we’re all together so he could send the big news. My dad always was a fan of theatrics.

“It’s an email from Dad,” Amelia chirps with a grin.

I don’t even pick up my phone. I’m not ready to face it. Not ready to feel that crippling weight when it says what I think it says.

Jack looks raring to see what’s hidden inside, so I’ll let him do the honors.

“I’ll read it,” he announces as I freeze with my lips to the rim of my gin and tonic.

Dear Kids.

There he goes again with the kids business. Never mind the fact that we’re all full-grown adults, half of us here still act like children. The lot of them are in for a rude awakening when they find out they won’t have Daddy Ronan around to spoon-feed them anymore.

This message is for all six of you: Julian, Amelia, Jack, Phoenix, Elizabeth, and Weston—

This letter is a long time coming, and I’m sure you’ve guessed by now what it’s about. With the help of my business partner, Matis Moreau, I’ve managed L’Amour for the past two and a half decades. It is time for me to officially retire.

I feel my heart start to race as Jack reads. The walls of this bar are closing in. There’s a thrumming in my ears as I grasp desperately to every word Jack says, waiting for the moment when he utters my name and everything changes forever.

I’ve spoken to Matis about this, and we both agree that you should make the club yours now.

The thrumming stops, and everything goes silent. What did I miss? Did he not mention me by name? I must not have heard him right.

“Wait, who?” I snap as I grab my phone from the table. Quickly swiping open the email, I scan it erratically. “Who the fuck is going to own the club?”

“I think he means…all of us,” Phoenix replies, but I ignore her.

I’m too busy absorbing my dad’s email in search of the line that goes a little something like My son, Julian, will own the club and be in charge with all of you underneath him—because I believe in him.

Because he’s earned it. Because he’s just as capable as Jack.

But there’s nothing.

Because apparently…I’m not.

“All of us?” my sister asks innocently. “Own the club together?”

“Fuck this.” My blood is pumping so fast, I might pass out. The gin is swirling through my veins, making everything numb as I toss my phone on the table. I need to be more numb, so I pick up the glass and try to suck every last ounce of liquor from the ice.

Meanwhile, Jack continues.

I’ve known you all since you were born. Your parents created a legacy, and you were raised together like a family. You came to Paris with a dream, and you’ve all worked so hard at L’Amour. But what I see now are six adults who have lost their way.

I scoff. I haven’t lost my way.

I don’t know why I even cared so much about inheriting this club in the first place. It’s not like I actually wanted it. It would have been one more opportunity for me to fail. To show I’m not perfect.

I’m just a useless heir to the throne, and he’d rather hand the club over to his friends’ kids than entrust anything to his own son.

He thinks that because the owners of the original club were like family, forcing us to run this one together will make us family too. But we are not the original owners. And you can’t force that bond.

You’ve grown apart, and each of you has lost something you can never replace. I know how that feels.

My stomach sours when I remember what it is my father has lost.

I see your potential. Each of you brings something special to the table. If you really worked together, you could make a club even better than what your parents created.

There is nothing more powerful than family. The six of you are a family, whether you see it or not. There are three of you missing from this letter—Liam, Austin, and Scarlett. They are choosing another path for their lives, but this offer extends to them, should they choose it. And I hope they do.

Sure. Why don’t we just invite the rest of Paris while we’re at it? Maybe Geo wants a slice too. Or hell, might as well invite Mom’s poodle to own a portion of the club. Jack’s four-year-old daughter probably wants in too.

That is why I am passing the club down to all six of you. You can do what you want with it. Change the name. Make it yours. The only catch is that you have to run it together for at least a year. If one of you pulls out, the ownership reverts to Matis, and he’ll sell the property.

Fabulous. So my inheritance rides on these freeloaders doing their job. Au revoir, L’Amour.

This isn’t a punishment. It’s an experiment. I watched your parents’ club save lives, and I’m hoping this one will save yours.

One year. That’s all I ask. After the year is up, you can do what you want.

I’m begging you to give it a shot.

Find your family, and make this your home.

Sincerely,

Ronan Kade

When Jack finishes reading, he appears to be as flabbergasted as the rest of us. I watch him reread it over and over, and it dawns on me that he too probably thought he was about to inherit the deed alone.

He was the more suitable candidate anyway. He’s worked at the club for the last seven years, whereas I keep an office there without ever being actually tasked with anything, which loosely translates into…riding the train without having to buy a ticket.

Now, I get to own one-sixth of a club, one I’m sure Jack will head alone with us under him like employees.