Chapter 2 #2
“You know I miss him too, Mom.” That’s as much as I’m willing to admit to her for now, and though I have no clue what to do to help Eli, I lean down and kiss her again. “Thanks for telling me. I’ll see you later.”
Troy is waiting for me with the car already running, and though I’m technically proud of myself for not going up and stealing a moment with Eli, and I know it’s for the best, it still hurts like a bitch.
Eli
After more than half a day of restful sleep, I’m showered and ready for what’s bound to be the most eventful Turris meeting I’ve been a part of.
Dad only made me his Heir a little over three years ago, when I turned eighteen, and to say nothing as exciting as the head of the Irish mafia snooping around a corrupt mayor’s house has happened in that time would be a massive understatement.
Part of my “work” during the weekend included looking into Colby’s exit from ENN too, and what I discovered put Dad on edge—the head of the news division was working in some capacity with the former mayor.
Yes the news of Brent’s arrest also broke, but that’s background noise compared to the rest of the information I dealt with.
The shocks just keep coming, though, when we get to the meeting and Colby’s right there, chatting with Harrison as if they’ve known each other for years.
Eian Dempsey is there too, talking to Iris.
Then one simple word changes everything.
I never really thought about the power one single word could have until the princess of New York, the heir to the most powerful seat in the city, said “uncle.”
I fear for Dad’s heart as Harrison lays down the law, as he explains Eian is his cousin, the new Chair of the People, and Colby is his Heir.
It’s obvious Colby’s more than his Heir, and I just know Dad needs to do some damage control there, because the last thing our bodyguards need is to constantly be on the lookout for a mob enforcer or some shit.
The rest of the meeting goes by quickly enough. No one has gotten over the little revelation, so no one interrupts Eian’s monologue.
The Italian mafia, the Bratva, and the Triads have apparently taken it upon themselves to clean up the mess that was the human trafficking organization.
He doesn’t explicitly say they murdered everyone, but it’s implied when he talks about them dealing with the men who were working for Lucian Venuti, Brent’s . . . business associate, I suppose.
I do breathe a quiet sigh of relief when he tells us they found a place upstate where they were holding the victims, and are working on getting them all back to their home countries, because in everything I found, there wasn’t any information about where they were keeping them.
My next step was looking into property any known men involved owned, but now I don’t have to.
I made sure the FBI has the names of about seventy percent of all buyers and are doing their due diligence by saving the people they—fuck, I hate even thinking it, but—purchased.
All in all, it appears this nightmare is over and taken care of. Or as over as it can be.
But when the meeting’s finished, I somehow survive the five truly terrifying minutes where Dad and Colby seem to hash things out and Eian asks me to be a kind of mentor to a guy “from the family” who’s also a hacker.
I don’t mind lending my time for some good old-fashioned vigilante work, so I agree.
And then . . .
Well, then it’s time to face what I’ve been avoiding.
Lex is here . . . in the city.
He’s going to be playing against the Demons, and stopped by the house to spend what little time he could with Lyla. At least that’s what Dad told me when I woke up. I managed somehow not to ask any follow-up questions, and honestly I deserve a medal.
We discreetly make our way out of the building—one of ten different locations where the Turris meets—and drive back to the house where Austin and Troy are waiting for us to take us to Barclay Arena.
I might actively hate Jim Barclay and his morals, but the truth is he has been more than accommodating to us whenever Lex or Vinny play in the city. He always hosts us in the owner’s box, and at least I get to escape him by pretending Tucker and I have anything beyond our beliefs in common.
Maybe that’s not fair, I think, when the usher opens the door to the suite for us. I wave quickly at Jim and speed-walk to the open area where Tucker is in the furthest club seat.
“Hey,” I murmur. “How are you?”
Since we don’t really get to, you know, catch up during the Turris meetings, acting like we haven’t seen each other since the last time I was here isn’t as hard as it should be.
“I’m fine,” he grumbles, then sighs. “My house isn’t gonna be ready until February, so I gotta tough it out with the happy couple.”
I wince at the thought of having to share a roof with Jim and his twenty-six-year-old wife.
“At least you get to hang out with Mason and Maddox.” That’s the only silver lining I can think of.
“Yeah, they’re the only reason why I’m not staying at the Certon on Park,” he says with a tired chuckle. His three-year-old twin half-brothers are a riot from what he’s told me. “By the way, I’m deciding to invite you to their birthday party in January.”
“What?” I ask, shocked.
“Don’t look at me like that.” He huffs after a quick glance and goes back to watching the empty ice. “You’re literally the only friend I have who could survive it, and I’m not spending the day alone with the nannies or mothers of all their friends.”
I choke on a laugh.
“What about Zack?” I ask quietly. This is technically breaking the rules, but no one can possibly hear us.
“Please,” he scoffs. “Dude’s too fancy to have fun.” The tiny, really minuscule smirk he offers is all I need.
It’s not like I’m swimming in friends over here.
My only real friend lives across the country and I barely see him a dozen days a year because he’s busy being a hockey star.
Also, I’m desperately in love with him, he’s my stepbrother, and worst of all, he knows I’m in love with him and that’s more than likely why he keeps his distance.
But maybe . . . maybe Tucker’s my friend too.
There are no rules against being friends with other Heirs . . . and we did go to the same school all our lives, at least until I graduated early. And he’s a couple of years older than me, like Lex.
Just then, the announcer’s voice rings out over the filling arena and the Demons and Empire players skate out for warmups.
As I see Lex do a quick lap around their half of the ice, I focus on the bright gold fifteen on his back, below the last name that weighs more than he should ever have to lift.
I want, more than anything, to be the one he allows to carry it with him, just like he’s been helping me carry Ellsworth since the moment we met ten years ago.
But he doesn’t want that.
All he’s ever wanted from me is my friendship, and I know that soon enough I’m going to have to find a way to accept that’s enough.