Chapter 30 #2
Vaughn smiles. “I thought you might. Xavier, both our organizations have legacies woven into history itself. I believe a signed agreement between us can ensure those legacies extend far into the future.”
Xavier nods slowly. “Indeed.”
He’s still looking right at me.
“Then unless there are any details you wish to discuss further, I see no reason why we can’t sign this here and now,” Vaughn says. He smiles and raises his glass. “We’ve even got the proper wine to celebrate the occasion.”
Xavier chuckles quietly, still looking at me. I shift uncomfortably in my seat.
“There is one point I would like to discuss in further,” Xavier murmurs. “Not one that is part of our deal. But it is…shall we say…a condition for that deal to proceed.”
I really don’t like the way he’s just…looking at me.
“What condition would that be?” Vaughn murmurs.
“Did you know that my family goes back all the way to Phillip II?”
Vaughn nods. “I did. It’s an impressive pedigree.”
Xavier nods. “Oui, we are quite proud of the lineage. But long before him, the kings and lords of the territory now known as France enjoyed certain privileges.”
The room is quiet as Xavier shifts his gaze from me to Vaughn.
“I assume you’ve heard of prima nocta?”
It’s debatable if it was ever actually a real thing, but prima nocta, or “first night” was, allegedly, the practice of a local lord being permitted to sleep with a woman on her wedding night, before her husband.
I’m no historian, obviously, but real or not, even the idea of it is gross.
I shiver when I see how tightly Vaughn’s jaw is clenched.
“I have,” he growls quietly.
Xavier smiles widely as his gaze slides back to me, and when it suddenly clicks, my stomach churns.
“Mademoiselle Nikitin,” he says with a gleam in his eyes. “Did you know that I know your father?”
I stiffen. “I…wasn’t aware of that, no.”
He nods. “Yes. Years ago, Pavel cheated me out of a rare vintage Ferrari I was trying to purchase from one of his Russian friends.”
My face crumples.
“I apologize on behalf of my father, Monsieur d’Auvrelle.”
He smiles blandly. “No need. A few years ago, I managed to purchase the car anyway. In fact, I drove it here this very evening, knowing I would meet you.”
Xavier exhales, sitting back in his chair. “I think me fucking you over the hood of that car and sending photos to your father would be suitable payback, non?”
My mouth falls open as I stare in horror at the Frenchman.
“I think the expression in English is two birds, one stone.” He smiles darkly. “I pay your father back for his insult. And the young Marquis here, who wishes to do business with me, pays his respects by granting me my right,” he growls.
Bile rises in my throat.
I snap my head around to stare at Vaughn, waiting for him to flip the fuck out and kill Xavier right in front of me.
He remains stock-still in the silent room.
My throat tightens as I whip back around to stare in horror at Xavier. He merely smiles at me. Then my gaze darts to Cerise, expecting her to chastise her father for his disgusting and hopefully just drunk behavior.
But she looks equally unbothered as she gazes right at me.
What the fuck.
I whirl to stare at Vaughn again. He’s still just sitting there.
Jesus Christ, is he seriously fucking considering this?!
I’m seconds away from jumping to my feet and throwing my goddamn wine into Xavier’s face when Vaughn finally breaks his silence. He casually clears his throat and smiles as he turns to Cerise.
“Mademoiselle d’Auvrelle,” he murmurs, “would you mind excusing yourself a moment? I need to discuss certain details of this arrangement with your father.”
Ice water churns through my veins. Cerise glances at me and stands. “Of course, Monsieur Bancroft.”
I decide right there that I no longer like this fucking cunt.
Vaughn is silent as she crosses the room and slips out the door. Then he stands, casually walking over to the dusty bottle of wine sitting on the little table between Xavier’s chair and the couch with his three advisors.
“Wonderful vintage, the ’61,” he murmurs before calmly pouring another splash into his glass and swirling it in the light.
Xavier smiles like a shark. “I’ll throw in another bottle if my three friends here can have a turn at her, too.”
I choke back more bile as Vaughn smiles down at Xavier.
“You know what I think, Monsieur d’Auvrelle?” he grins.
Xavier chuckles. “That this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship?”
Vaughn’s eyes glint. His hand tightens on the neck of the bottle.
“No…not that.”
It all happens incredibly fast. One moment, he’s just standing there, smiling at our host and swirling the obscenely expensive wine in his glass.
The next, it's pure chaos.
Vaughn’s arm jerks back, and with one clean swing brings the wine bottle crashing against the side of Bertrand’s head.
The man grunts, his eyes rolling back as he slumps to the floor.
Vaughn is already swinging again, this time catching Jean in the face and smashing his nose with the bottom of the bottle.
Blood pours down the man’s face as he screams. Vaughn merely hits him again and then smashes the bottle against Pierre’s head so hard that it shatters.
I stare, frozen, as Vaughn lunges at Xavier.
He grabs the Frenchman by the throat, yanks him from his chair, and then shoves him onto his knees so Vaughn is looming right over him.
He brandishes the smashed bottle, still dripping drops of red wine like blood, then calmly presses the jagged edge to Xavier’s jugular.
“What I was actually thinking, monsieur,” he growls in a freakishly calm tone, “is that if you ever reflect on what’s mine again, I’ll cut your fucking heart out.
” He hisses, resting the broken glass against Xavier’s throat.
“You won’t look at her. You won’t remember her face.
You won’t say her name, ever. If you do, I’ll find out, I’ll find you, and I will prima nocta your rarest, most prized bottle of wine so far up your ass they’ll need a sommelier to perform the autopsy. ”
I stare unblinkingly at the violent scene in front of me.
“Nod if I’ve made myself clear,” Vaughn mutters.
Xavier arches his brow, but nods. “Perfectly clear, Monsieur le Marquis.”
“Excellent.”
Vaughn chucks the broken bottle across the room, kicks Bertrand in the ribs as he writhes groaning on the floor, then grabs my hand.
“Let's go.”
I’m still in stunned, shocked silence as he drags me from the room.