Chapter 15
Duke
Igive the valet, who was expecting to park my car, a polite wave as I drive past the ivy-covered brownstone mansion that’s been in the Moncrief family for six generations.
The twin turrets and leaded windows give it a gothic feel that’s a small nod to the Scottish castle where the Moncriefs can trace their origins.
The grey skies above make it feel dark and foreboding. Or that could just be my mood.
The neighboring parking garage was built in a style to complement the house, but it’s a twentieth century addition, big enough to accommodate my dad’s collection of luxury cars with room to spare for the family’s vehicles. We’re only occasional visitors now.
The last of my siblings to leave was Fitz, and as I scan the row of cars, my heart aches that his isn’t there. I’m curious to see Rory’s car is missing too. Not necessarily a big issue. The important thing is Meri is here.
My sister was warned I’d be arriving late on Sunday and technically, it is late. It just happens to be late morning. Rory’s absence will make it easier to blame him for the miscommunication. Calder can have the honor of playing referee between me and my twin.
Dad might intervene, but the Moncrief empire was built on sibling rivalry and he’s always left us to fight it out between ourselves. Except this battle is to heal wounds not create new ones. I hope. I’m not whole without my sister and damn it, I miss her.
I love my family, even the annoying ones.
They don’t know it, but they’re the reason I’ve been denying myself the happy ending with Grace, the one I’d dared to imagine as we sat in bed watching a romcom about leaving love to fate.
Am I being punished for trying to make my own good luck instead of leaving it to serendipity?
The last thing I wanted was to hurt anyone, but recent weeks have taught me that pain is inevitable. I can’t absorb it all. I can’t protect everyone without hurting someone else, and I hate that the someone else has been Grace.
A part of me had died inside when I’d pulled Katarina into my arms and pretended she didn’t make my skin crawl.
And a part of Grace had died too. I’d seen it in her face.
I didn’t have a choice after Katarina’s not-so-subtle message that she’d recognized Grace.
I had to put on an act for the benefit of Vasili’s spies, and Katarina was certainly in the mood for a show.
I wish Grace had been able to see Katarina and I at each other’s throats the second we were alone in my office.
My fiancée wanted to know exactly how long I’d been involved with the interior designer I spent my mornings with, or had done until Grace cancelled all our meetings.
I refused to tell Katarina anything and as things stand, she’s busy worrying about me fucking up our fake engagement while I’m pretty confident I’ve fucked up any hope of a relationship with Grace.
As I get out the car and slam the door, I cry out in frustration. Grace has been cheated on before, and it took a lot for her to trust what I was saying. But actions speak louder than words and she saw me in action with Katarina. How the fuck do I get her to listen to me now?
One battle at a time, I tell myself. I’m here to see Meri, whether she wants to see me or not.
My footsteps echo down the corridor that links the parking garage to the house. Leonard is waiting for me as I enter the marble-floored foyer. Dad’s butler looks as old and weathered as the house and just as enduring.
He holds out his hand and I drop my car keys into his palm. “I hope you didn’t scratch anything.”
“Nice to see you too, Len,” I reply. “And that little mishap was ten years ago. It’s time to let it go.”
“There’s nothing little about any mishap that involves your father’s cars.
” His features remain dour. “Let me know when you’re leaving and I’ll have your car brought to the front.
” He sniffs and manages to keep a straight face for a few seconds before offering an almost-smile.
“Gordon’s in the study and the bairns are in the billiards room. ”
I tower over the man who’s shrunk as we ‘bairns’ have grown into adults, but he’s always going to make me feel like the kid he wasn’t afraid to reprimand.
I nod my thanks and turn in the direction of the billiards room, but Len clears his throat loudly.
I don’t want to give Meri the chance to slip away before I can see her, but I’m not about to argue with him.
“Fine, I’ll go and say hello to the old goat, but please don’t mention my arrival to my sister. ”
“As you wish.”
As I step towards the study, I check my watch.
Dad works seven days a week and if he’s in his study, he won’t want me to loiter.
I knock before I enter the oak-paneled room that smells of tobacco despite the fact my dad has never smoked.
My grandfather, however, was fond of cigars and one of the many portraits lining the study is of my great grandfather sporting a pipe.
Their ghosts linger in the smoke-infused timber.
Dad is reclined in a green leather executive chair, feet propped up on his large oak desk, a frown deepening the wrinkles on his brow.
For a seventy-year-old, he’s still got the looks that broke the hearts of two ex-wives and a girlfriend or three.
He’s a bastard, but I still love him. I guess he loves me too judging by how quickly his features soften.
He drops his feet to the floor and jumps up from his chair quicker than I probably could. “Son, I wasn’t expecting to see you ‘til later.” He pulls me into a bear hug and slaps my back.
“It was either spend time with you, or my wife-to-be,” I quip, forcing myself to make light of the situation.
“Has that wee minx not grown tired of you yet?” Dad asks, leaning into his Scottish accent.
He was born in America, but splits his time between here and the Highlands.
His accent changes with the location and as he’s only just arrived home from Moncrief castle, it’ll take him a while to settle back into his American twang.
“We have an exit plan in place.”
“Rory tells me she’s waiting until your wedding day for said exit. It’s cutting it fine, if you ask me.”
I haven’t seen Rory this week, which means he’s heard the latest update from the Griffins. He and Ash share all the latest intel, or so they think. There are things only Max and I are privy to.
Max was seriously pissed about Katarina threatening to tell her uncle about Grace. His advice was to send Grace away. I should send her away, but if I do that, I lose all hope of getting her back.
Dad registers the defeat written all over my face and assumes the engagement itself is the cause. “I do not want a Barkov in this family,” he says, glowering. “You can’t marry her, laddie. God knows what that gobshite uncle of hers would do with our name to trade on.”
“I won’t let it get that far,” I say with unwarranted conviction. That scene with Katarina in the office proves how impotent I’ve become.
Dad pours us both a whiskey and gestures to one of the armchairs. He takes the other. Shit. It’s not a quick hello then.
“I’ve been making plans,” he says, tapping the side of his crystal glass with the inner band of his gold sovereign. “And I’ve already spoken to the others. Well, everyone except Fitz, but I’ll get around to that good-for-nothing tearaway soon enough. You don’t know where he is, do you?”
“I spoke to him the other day,” I say, not quite answering his question. “He’s doing OK, and he’ll be back for my wedding.” Dad glares at me and I shrug. “Everyone will be there except the bride. Now, tell me about your plans.” Quickly before Meri escapes, I want to add.
“I’m retiring.”
My heart sinks. Great, another problem to wrestle with. It might be less fraught than the Barkov issue, but its solution isn’t as obvious.
Dad deserves to step back after a lifetime of dedication, but he leaves a vacancy that’s going to be hard to fill. In previous generations, the patriarch’s children had plotted against each other for the top spot, but the reverse is true in our case. No one wants that poisoned chalice.
While it’s true that we’ve all taken up roles in the family business and enjoyed the privilege of our positions, none of us want to take on the burden of running the whole show, not even Rory.
The Moncrief empire stretches across the globe where night and day are meaningless because it's always daytime somewhere. There’s always a battle to win or a metaphoric fire to put out.
My dad chuckles. “I see you’re just as enthusiastic as the others,” he says, pausing to sip his drink. “But I did have an interesting conversation with Rory.”
I lean forward in my seat. “Has he offered to take your place?” He hasn’t mentioned anything to me, but Dad can be persuasive.
“Good grief, no. If anything, he wants to spend more time in that Scottish isle he bought after his divorce.”
“Yeah, he won’t stop talking about building a distillery there as part of the renovations.”
“I hope he does. And he’d better use the correct spelling. There’s no ‘e’ in whisky,” he insists, staying true to his Scottish roots. “I’ve given up trying to educate Ash Griffin.”
“Rory will back you on that one.”
“He will, but I don’t expect any of you to follow my lead in everything.
Diversification and specialization is what we need,” Dad says as if it’s the key to unlocking all our futures.
“Rory’s been running some ideas past Ash.
That’s where he is now.” He checks his watch.
“He promised he’d only be an hour, but he’s up to his neck dismantling the global empire that landed in the Griffins’ laps. ”
I give my dad a look. “I doubt the Griffins would describe that particular acquisition quite so simply.” The lives of family members had been put in danger and they’d been driven to extremes to ensure their safety. I’d do the same.