CHAPTER FOUR
AXEL
That’s how you make a fucking point. I will not cower in my own establishment. If she wants to execute me here, she’ll need to accept her own mortality to do it. She’s not facing a man. She’s up against an empire.
And yet, even with my awe-inspiring exit, I fear I’m the one being reeled in.
Zara definitely-not West was gorgeous on the security footage, but devastating in person.
She is a perplexing mix of mettle, despondency, refinement, and wit.
But it’s hard to get hung up on anything other than her intoxicating vanilla-and-cherry-blossoms fragrance.
Parts of the cherry blossom tree can convert to cyanide in the body.
Maybe my subconscious is drilling a truth into me.
Zara reeks of beautiful poison, and I’m the fool who wants another whiff.
But I won’t indulge, not without an antidote on me.
Before I’m even out of Soirée Italienne, my phone buzzes, and as expected, per their flawless timing, it is one of the family text threads.
This one has all the on-property Noires on it.
That amounts to everyone except my sister and her husband, which includes my younger brothers, Ryker, Maddox, Cash, and Jax; Ryker’s wife, Mercy; and Maddox’s wife, Tessa.
Based on the first message, I’m prepared for razzing.
Maddox: Who remembers that lecture that Papa Axe gave us about being late? He delivered it at least once a week for about a decade. It included five or so fucking proverb-ish sayings to get it through our heads that it was disrespectful to be tardy. Name those sayings.
Jax: Ooh, I’ve got one. Timeliness is next to holiness.
Cash: Punctuality is the politeness of kings.
Mercy: Axel stole that from Louis XVIII of France. And I think the first one might be a twist on a biblical reference.
Jax: Delays have dangerous ends.
Mercy: Shakespeare.
Maddox: Early is on time, and on time is late.
Mercy: Military. I am on fire tonight.
Mercy is a La Lune Noire lawyer. She’s sharp, and she has a wealth of trivial knowledge, courtesy of her homeschooling.
I homeschooled my siblings, too, but her parents taught her loads of book stuff, and I used the resources I had.
They’re all proficient in acrobatics, magic tricks, the art of weaponry, or other expertise. We skipped the roots of sayings.
Ryker: He that rises late must trot all day.
Mercy: Benjamin Franklin. Tell me there is a competition I can enter for this.
Ryker: You win my awe, Merce.
Maddox: So unoriginal, Axe. I’ll take *sayings my brother stole to sound wise* for one thousand, Mr. Trebek.
In my defense, I became guardian to my siblings when I was twenty-one, with my primary helper in that endeavor being Ryker, who was nineteen.
The others were fourteen, twelve, eight, and six.
I also inherited the responsibility of owner and operator of La Lune Noire, and since we’d lost our house to a fire, I raised them at the resort in the penthouse.
I said a lot of shit, whatever I could regurgitate in a challenging moment that would make them believe I knew what the hell I was doing.
Much of it was probably something I’d read somewhere.
Tessa: I clearly missed out on integral family lessons. Forget the ripped-off sayings. I feel robbed. All Axel has said to me on the matter is, “Be on time.”
Cash: So lazy. Who says something so blatant like that? He’s getting sloppy in his old age.
Maddox: Which brings us to tonight’s discussion, as we all gather around the dinner table. Who, pray tell, did not respect the family dinner time?
Jax: I’m going with Papa Axe.
Maddox gave me that nickname when he was a punk teen, pissed that I was telling him what to do instead of Mom. Over the years, the tone changed. Now it feels like an honor. I might be rescinding that momentarily because I suspect what’s coming.
Tessa: Where were you on that one, Mercy?
Mercy: Making Remy’s plate, in the seat beside yours.
Remy is Mercy and Ryker’s five-year-old, the smartest little guy you’ll ever meet. He wrangles cookies out of me with a single glance.
Jax: I’m hungry, man. The holdup is disappointing.
Cash: Says the guy with a joint hanging out of his mouth.
Jax: Hence the hunger.
Mercy: You have a joint at the table?
Jax: Ryker, your wife fucking hit me.
Ryker: That was me.
Cash: That’s just embarrassing, Bulldozer.
Maddox: The best part is the reason Papa Axe blew us off. Wait for it.
This is a prime example of how ridiculous they are. I’m stepping into the penthouse elevator, and they’re gathered around the dinner table, having this conversation via text thread. I’m not a praying man, so I hope to hell he’s not about to share what I think he’s going to share.
Maddox: He cornered a lady in the restroom.
Mother. Fucker.
Cash: Now this is a family dinner discussion I’m interested in.
Me: How the fuck did you find that out?
Maddox: I thought that might wake you up. I have eyes everywhere.
Fucking Bernard.
Me: I just left there two minutes ago.
Jax: “Time Waits for No One.”
Tessa: Rolling Stones.
Maddox: I have never been more turned on, baby girl.
Our mother was a musician. Not famous, but a passionate one nonetheless. Music is a way to keep her with us, so we all find it healing, but Maddox rarely spends a minute without a song dictating his steps. Tessa manages to carry his tune.
Mercy: Oscar Wilde said, “Punctuality is the thief of time.” Maybe the restroom was more important.
Ryker: I’m betting it was the lady in the restroom.
Me: It wasn’t like that. She’s young.
Cash: How young?
Me: Younger than you.
Maddox: Robbing the cradle. Does she know you’re a grandpa?
Me: How did you find out so quickly?
Maddox: I was there when Rena had the babies, Gramps. Senile, huh?
Me: Don’t be a jackass. Which employee has you on speed dial for gossip?
Maddox: When you didn’t answer your texts, I called around. There is nothing more important than our mandatory meals, so I was panicked. Thankfully, someone took pity on me.
Panicked, my ass. That’s sarcastic. He loves that I insist on family meals, but he’ll never admit it because there’s a rebellious teen inside him who enjoys pushing my buttons.
Bernard was pissed and probably worried, so he ratted me out. Had to be him.
Me: The dog?
Remy got a bulldog when he was three and named him Bernard. No idea why. But we’ve had a lot of fun with it, and Bernard—the man—was beyond touched.
Maddox: Yep, but he was no help. He kept spitting all over the place. He did bark to go potty though, so now that I think about it, that furball is a genius.
Maddox: When I failed to catch on to the potty request, I took a chance on his namesake. I wasn’t sure the old guy would offer much more than drooling, but alas … he came through.
While I don’t broadcast it, I enjoy the carefree spirit the youngest four have. Envy it even. But Maddox is sprinkling each tidbit like kindling and transforming this elevator into a tinderbox.
Maddox: Bernard, the guy, said you were (and this is verbatim) engaged in a deadlock with a wild one in the ladies’ powder room.
Me: Dear. Fuck. I’m walking in.
When I swing the penthouse door open, a chorus of hoots and hollers erupts from the dining room. And the sight of them—happy and safe and huddled together despite their penchant for driving me insane—never ceases to throw me into a state of gratefulness.
I’m proud of what I did with La Lune Noire, how I took my father’s reputation of wickedness and backstabbing and turned this empire into a place within our dark world that adheres to a code and our version of integrity.
And with the hospitality properties we have throughout the world—several being transformed into satellite versions of La Lune Noire—our legacy is unmatched.
But this—these people, this warmth—is by far my greatest accomplishment. I’m not sure they’ll ever grasp how rich they make my life.
I greet them all with hugs and good-natured barbs volleyed over our catered dinner.
They forgo their texting, though I’m informed they challenged each other to not utter a word until I strolled through the door.
Remy took it upon himself to try to break them all on my behalf.
Love that kid. They lob countless questions about the restroom girl at me, but I toss each one back with puzzling tidbits until they forfeit.
When the meal winds down and they disperse to hang out in the great room, the record player blaring and laughter rising, I haul Ryker to my office and catch him up on what Wells told me.
His icy-blue eyes narrow. “Did us using the media to destroy the families that came after Maddox have something to do with their most recent threats?”
“He didn’t say.” I rub my chin because I leaped to a similar conclusion. “He wouldn’t put that on us. But it’s a logical deduction to draw.”
A little over a year ago, Maddox and Tessa found themselves in some trouble with two Mafias.
The opposing families began a media battle of fabricated reports about them.
It was their first act of war against us.
There are services that can be purchased from an underhanded media conglomerate to have scripted stories shared across multiple platforms.
When the opposing families took the fight to the media, we hit back in the same way.
Unlike them, we didn’t have to purchase the service because two of the KORT chairs have backdoor access to the same conglomerate, but so do the people threatening my sister’s family.
And that no-name enemy after them doesn’t appreciate that they can so easily override a paid client’s wishes, so they’ll stop at nothing to take that media access away.
“So, the beautiful girl in the restroom?” He cocks his head, already connecting some of the dots and discerning that she is obviously related.
The adjective regarding her attractiveness is there simply to see if I’ll bite. I don’t.