Chapter 3
Darius
June
Two months have passed since I flew out of paradise, claiming an emergency. No way in hell was I sticking around after that kiss. I had to get out of there before I did something incredibly stupid.
Every single day, the memory of that stolen kiss outside her condo replays in my mind. Her taste—a unique blend of spice and sweetness—is forever imprinted in my core memories.
One second, she was talking, getting ready to blow me off.
Next, my lips were on hers, and I was stealing those words of dismissal right out of her mouth.
Devouring her with a hunger that could only be described as primal, as if she were the most delicious treat I’d ever tasted.
I was a starving man determined to eat her alive.
The pressure from the zipper against my hard dick was painful.
Which was when I realized I was about to make a huge mistake that was much bigger than a kiss.
So, I pulled back, shoved her inside, then ran like my arse was on fire.
These last two months, I’ve been all over the damn world giving my newest business venture a real go. Most of my clients are like the Reyes family. Deep pockets with something to lose if a situation gets out of hand.
I spend my days investigating exciting things like fraud, espionage, embezzlement, and treason. Governments and large corporations hire my company, Falcon Global Security & Solutions (FGS&S), because we can’t so easily be persuaded to look the other way.
So far, it’s kept me very busy. We’re the ones they call when shit hits the fan, like when someone’s been betrayed, there’s talk of internal sabotage, or when the regular team can’t be trusted.
We’re a third party that stays off everyone’s radar until it’s time to send in my reports and expose what my team has found.
The best part is that FGS&S has my family up in arms. They openly scorn my decision to forge my own path, separate from the family business.
Ironically, the less they approve of my lifestyle, the more fulfilling it all feels.
My family and I aren’t exactly on good terms. It’s complicated, and they’re the reason I do what I do.
Given that I’m a very busy twenty-six-year-old man who’s trying to build a business from the ground up, one wouldn’t expect me to have time for my own investigating. Out of sight, out of mind, is a real thing, right?
It’s not.
That nagging gut feeling about Ingrid’s family didn’t fade.
For three days it gnawed at me until I couldn’t ignore it, finally pushing me to look into matters.
The truth I uncovered left my stomach twisted.
Gerald Lennox was rotten to the core. I couldn’t in good conscience sit back and look the other way.
Scumbags are nothing new to me. I’ve dealt with men like him before, but even in a corrupt sea of thieves, he managed to stand out.
A few keystrokes told me all I needed to know. He’d poured his personal fortune into the wrong hands. When the scheme collapsed, so did his wealth. Every last cent—wiped clean. He was penniless.
Gerald had one card left to play, the company he started twenty-five years ago. And Warren Culberson was at the center of it. Their history ran deep. Warren funded the launch of Gerald’s pharmaceutical empire, then poured in more as the business grew. For decades his money kept the company afloat.
Now that the empire was on shaky ground—the noose around Gerald’s neck tightening—the man was desperate. Selling to Warren looks like the best fix. It’d cover the debts, but the deal is dirty, layered, never as simple as it looks on paper.
Men like Gerald, blinded by ego, never take the logical path. Convinced of their own brilliance, they hunt for backdoors, weaving deals in the shadows to disguise their desperation. Until someone like me shows up to drag them back into the light and strip the lies away.
Warren is no exception. These two have years of shady ties and questionable deals. When Gerald’s world collapsed, Warren saw his chance and pushed his way into Lennox Pharmaceuticals. Together, they stitched a web of lies with the kind of precision only greed can inspire.
Deceit is a wound I know way too well. I carry its scars and refuse to let it go unchecked—not when it touches someone in my orbit. I hunt it down and then expose it.
No one’s hired me to take these two down. I’m doing this because of one thing. I blame it on the damn kiss I can’t stop thinking about. My infatuation with Ingrid Fae Lennox—she’s the reason I looked deeper and now can’t walk away.
Which brings me to my next beef I have with Gerald. The weasel is misleading Ingrid by not telling her everything and forcing her into a life she never asked for. Sacrificing his daughter’s happiness and freedom for his own survival.
It’s the same trap Winifred Batista’s family tried to spring on her.
Este wouldn’t allow it. Neither will I. Because he’s right—everyone deserves the chance to choose where life takes them.
Ingrid’s future shouldn’t be defined by her father’s sins.
She deserves more, and I refuse to sit back and watch him steal her choices from her.
It’s why I’m here. Prepared. I called for a meeting with both men. Neither dared to decline. My reputation commands respect. When I summon someone, they answer. Wealth and royal blood have a way of demanding attention. There isn’t any other option.
I’m the Duke of Falcon—enough said.
When I arrive at the private gentlemen’s club, my guests are waiting for me. The air here is thick with wealth’s perfume—dirty fortunes and backroom deals, traded by men who think secrecy can be bought.
The shadows here hold more than business. It offers a stage where its members can watch women strip bare without judgment. Most would never guess clubs like this exist. Assuming such indulgence belongs only to brothels or strip joints. They couldn’t be more wrong.
Debauchery is everywhere. Criminals rarely look the part. Here they hide behind tailored suits and polished manners. From the outside, it may look exclusive, but cross the threshold and the purpose is clear.
“You’re late.” Gerald barely looks up, his mouth full of his overpriced steak, his gaze lost on the entertainment unfolding on stage.
It’s a little early for me to indulge, but these men seem to think sex, lunch, and drinks go well with business.
Warren takes his time, chasing down a bite with a slow sip of his wine. “Our time is precious,” he says, but his gaze never shifts to me. It lingers instead on the ladies as they walk by, their bare chests and jeweled g-strings his only focus.
Neither man looks like he’s missed a meal for a few decades.
And while I don’t care about appearances, these two could have walked off the set of a cheap film—slimy, overfed villains in ill-fitting suits.
At least Wilson can afford better. Gerald?
Not so much these days. And the comb overs—Christ. Straight out of the 70s. Fucking embarrassing.
I don’t bother with an apology. I’m here for one reason.
To give them a chance to rethink this scheme they’ve been nursing for years.
To toss it in the trash where it belongs.
Children aren’t pawns. Warren’s son may gladly play the role—he’s as slimy as his father—but Ingrid isn’t. And I intend to make that clear.
Slapping a folder in front of each man, I take my seat.
This is what I live for. There is no greater satisfaction than witnessing truth pierce the darkness. And these two don’t disappoint. It’s amazing how quickly men falter when their sins are revealed.
“How did you get your hands on these?” Warren flips through the pages faster than I know he can read them. Probably because he doesn’t have to study them to know what they say. He knows every detail.
“It’s what I do, Mr. Culberson.”
“Who hired you?” Gerald inquires, looking a little green.
With a thoughtful frown, I tap my chin, the skin rough against my fingertip as I consider his question. “Does it really matter? The gig is up, and if you don’t want to get caught with your hands in the cookie jar, you’ll listen very carefully.”
They exchange a quick glance, a silent agreement. Secrets—men guard them tighter than gold, which is why they make the deadliest leverage. And theirs is big enough to bury them. If it gets out, some very dangerous men will come to collect their pound of flesh.
“Mr. Lennox, let’s start with you.” My stare pins him, hard enough to make him understand I’m not fucking around. “Call your daughter. Tell her things have changed. That this thing between her and Wilson Culberson is over—unless it’s her choice to continue it.”
Mr. Culberson voices a strong objection. “Have you lost your goddamn mind?”
“I’ll get to you in a second.” The urge to physically pull him from his chair by his tie to emphasize my point is strong, but I refrain. “Clench those butt cheeks and sit tight. This situation is messy enough without shitting it all up and adding to the stench.”
Mr. Culberson glares at me, but wisely shuts up.
“And why would I do that?” Mr. Lennox asks, his voice steady, though the tension in his shoulders remains.
“Because if you don’t, the first person I’m calling is Viktor.” Loosening my suit jacket, the crisp fabric rustling slightly, I settle back into my chair. “I wonder what he’d think of this new adventure you two are cooking up with Rueben. I bet he’ll have a ton to say about that.”
Sweat runs down his portly face as the lies spill out. “My daughter’s always been free to make her own choices. She cares for Wilson. Calling her is pointless. Let’s be reasonable. Tell us what it is you really want, Your Grace.”
“Don’t call me that. It’s Darius or Falcon. Nothing else. And if you’re suggesting some sort of payoff, let me remind you, Gerald, you have nothing to offer me.” When his face turns a ghostly white, I can’t help but laugh.
“I’m not here to negotiate. Your money is useless to me. It’s dirty. I’ve spent years purging the stains off my own inheritance.” I sneer. “Old shit is the hardest and worst to get out. The only thing you have to offer me is this.”
Taking it one step further, I lean forward, my elbows braced against the table, my stare cutting right through his bullshit. No room for doubt or negotiation. “Call her. Now. Put her on speaker so I know it’s really her.”
Gerald sits there and stares, dragging it out, as if weighing the risk of calling my bluff. Then he surprises me by pulling out his phone.
Wise choice, since I don’t bluff.
I listen, but don’t speak.
“Hello.”
“Ingrid, it’s your father.” His voice tight, his eyes chained to mine. “Listen. I called to tell you Wilson is no longer your concern. Do as you wish where he is involved.”
“Okay?” Her voice pitches higher, confused.
“We’ll talk more later.” Gerald grinds out, the words stiff. “But I mean this. Wilson is no longer your problem.”
“Everything, okay?” she presses, suspicion clear in her tone.
“Yes. Call me later. I’ll explain then.”
There’s a pause, a muffled yawn as her brain tries to play catch-up. “I’ll call. Promise. Probably later since I have classes all day tomorrow.”
“That’s fine. Goodbye.” He ends the call abruptly, sulking like a spoiled child forced to apologize.
I hate that he made her promise to call him. But fine—let her call. Once I’m done with these bastards, my next stop will be New York, straight to her.
First, I need to make sure these two understand I’m serious. I’ll be watching. If I catch wind they didn’t heed my warning, they’ll face the full fury of my wrath.
“See? That wasn’t so hard.” I shift my eyes to the second piece of shite and grin. “Now let’s discuss what I want from you.”
“I can’t wait,” Warren snaps, his face growing red.
“Summon Wilson home immediately. He’s to return to Hermosa Islas.” To punctuate my point, I slam my fist on the table, making it jump. “He can finish his studies here or at one of the other overpriced institutions the world offers, but he will not return to Princeton.”
“Have you lost your mind?” Warren dares to question me. “He’s a year away from graduating. If he transfers, he’ll—”
“Don’t care.” I push myself to my feet, voice final. “He had better be packing his bags by the time I land in New York. It’s a seven-hour flight, give or take.”
A silent glance passes between them, telling me neither of them expected me to make that move. Which is why I’m making it.
To drive the point home, I add the finishing blow. “It would pain me to have to inform the university about Warren’s academic dishonesty. News like that doesn’t end well and could very well jeopardize his future elsewhere.”
“Fine. But this is not over.” Warren slumps back in his chair, arms crossing over his protruding belly. “Two can play this game, Falcon.”
His fury doesn’t rattle me. It fuels me. Feeds me. The madder he gets, the bigger I smile.
“Oh, I do hope so.” I rub my hands together, enjoying this new game he’s thrown us in. “I can hardly wait. And when it is over, I’ll be more than happy to declare victory. Stand on the sidelines as I watch them drag both your arses off to the gallows.”