23. Adrian
Adrian
Not even an hour had passed, and I had retreated back to my penthouse, a place where only three other people would dare speak to me.
I told myself it was fine. I told myself that I would find another woman, and that I would not let myself get sucked into some stupid game like I had with Delilah. I told—
“I’m just another piece in your game.”
I had no idea why I kept replaying her words in my head. It wasn’t like I needed her. I didn’t need anyone. Need?
I laughed out loud, feeling a brief moment of discomfort when no one and nothing echoed my laugh, and then gazed back down on the Strip. Yeah, maybe tonight would suck. Maybe I’d need this evening to have some booze, realize how low I’d sunk, and move on. But then—
“You’re not a man who’s going to change.”
Of all the fucking words.
Of all the fucking words Delilah had said, that particular line stabbed me in a more gruesome place than any knife wound ever would have. I was a man who would not change? How did she think the King of Diamonds got to the power he had so far?
You fucking idiot. She’s not here to make love to the King of Diamonds. She’s here to make love to you, Adrian Vale.
Or she was here, at least.
King of Diamonds.
“Fucking hell,” I swore under my breath.
That name still meant so much to me, but now the nickname felt like a cage, trapping my worst habits and refusing to let them go.
Even if Delilah was full of shit, even if her words were wrong, they were right at this very moment.
I had proved that by missing dinner tonight and prioritizing retaliation.
I got sucked into battle, and I had lost not by the final score, but simply by playing.
Fuck.
Was this who I wanted to be? A year ago, yes. Even six months ago, yes.
But truly, was there anything more pitiful than a man past a certain age still holding onto petty squabbles, unable to do anything more than cast vengeance on others?
A man hardened in his twenties and thirties was to be feared.
A man hardened and powerful in his forties was still feared, but with doubts about what would happen to him.
A man hardened in his fifties was starting to get sad, and beyond that, it was outright sad.
And if there was one thing I would absolutely not be, it was sad. I might never lose the hard edge to me, the part of me that would protect Delilah and my family at any and all costs, but I would never, ever, fucking ever become sad.
If that meant not playing the game with the Morrils at some point… well, no one got out of life without making some terrible fallout.
“Yo, Adrian!”
I turned suddenly to the unexpected voice of Dante, trailed by Lucas. He had his sleeves rolled up and a scowl on his face, as if looking for an excuse to punch someone.
“The fuck is going on with you?” Dante said. “You look like someone robbed your precious cufflinks.”
“Funny, Dante,” I sneered. Actually, you know what was funny?
The only brother I would not have minded being there right now was Cassius. He was the only one who had an inkling of what I was experiencing. Dante and Lucas could just go fuck off.
“He’s not lying,” Lucas said. “You look terrible, Adrian.”
“What of it?” I said, waving a hand. “Are we not allowed to have bad days? I’ve been trying to figure out what the fuck to do with the Morrils. Remember? That whole shit this afternoon? I’m trying to do my job.”
“I’m sure that explains why no one’s been able to reach you for the last few hours,” Dante said, spitting on the ground.
He did that knowing I would get pissed off. I despised anything that made my penthouse dirtier, spit included. I glared at him. He shrugged, as if to say, “Do something about it,” and I almost rolled up my sleeves before holding back.
Did Delilah think I could not change? How about I could change with my brother?
I turned back to the Strip, drawing a loud groan from Dante.
“I’m not going to fucking pry into what woman has your panties in a twist,” he said.
“What I am going to say is what we’ve so fucking told each other.
Deliberation works only to the point that you don’t do something self-defeating.
Well, we’ve thought well past that point.
Let’s take some fucking action. Let’s go hit the Morrils. ”
“Let us?” I said. “Don’t we have people we can hire? And don’t you dare fucking say the Black Reapers. Do that on your own time.”
Dante seethed at those words. If he drunkenly confided in me that he had a greater interest in holding power over the Reapers than he did in defeating the Morrils, I would have believed it to be a truthful statement.
“We can find people, yes,” Dante said. “But that won’t help you acting like a pussy because of one reporter.”
“Watch your fucking mouth!”
Silence filled the room. Dante did not back down, but he wisely kept his mouth shut.
“One reporter,” I repeated, “is just that. One reporter. She has no bearing on what is to happen. But you, Dante, are being impulsive.”
“Better impulsive than introverted, shut up in your fucking penthouse.”
“Dante is right,” Lucas said. The fuck did he have to say?
“Staying up here will only drive you crazier, Adrian. The longer you stay in your head, the less satisfied you will be with your options. And the less satisfied you are with your options, the more likely you are to do something self-destructive.”
Fuck.
The youngest one of us—youngest living one, anyway—didn’t speak as much as the rest of us, but he sure as shit was right here.
No, partially. I could also just let the time pass, let things float by…
What the fuck was I even saying?
“We all need to cut through the bullshit here and get to the heart of the matter.”
None of us present had spoken.
It had been Cassius.
Where the fuck had he come from?
And did we have to suddenly have a Vale family intervention right here?
Right now? I always preferred these meetings one on one, or at least not when I was the one being intervened for.
All I’d fucking done was spent the evening yelling at Delilah.
Was that really worth Cassius apparently calling me out?
Dante and Lucas split apart to show Cassius standing there, a glass of bourbon in his hand.
To my surprise, there appeared to be a hint of empathy on his face.
Most outsiders would never recognize it; they’d just see the taut half-smile, half-glare that could make anyone get on their knees, either for forgiveness or promises. But I knew him well enough to see it.
But if I thought that meant Cassius would speak kindly, I was dead fucking wrong.
“Tonight has nothing to do with the Morrils,” he said. “I have already arranged for some, ahem, responses to ensure that the Morrils are aware we will not be pushed into a corner. Tonight, rather, has to do with how you feel about Delilah.”
“The fuck are you saying?” I growled. “I missed dinner with Delilah because of the Morrils. It has everything to do with them.”
“That,” Cassius said, pausing to my great discomfort, “is merely the catalyst for all this, not the root cause. I do not know the details, but I know the face and the pitiful presence. I know what you are experiencing. So allow me to tell you a truth I took more time than I care to admit to reach. Adrian. You lost Delilah not because of the Morrils, but because of yourself.”
Fuck.
Fuck!
He was…
Right.
I just wish he hadn’t put it so bluntly in front of the other two. Especially fucking Dante. Lucas, whatever. Lucas was smart and conniving, perhaps capable of seeing the value in what we had. Dante?
“I made sure we responded to the Morrils, yet still had plenty of time with Sarah tonight,” Cassius said.
“You all—not just Adrian—mock me for becoming ‘weak’ with my woman. But you are all fucking fools if you believe that to be the case. Giving her time has shown me what I must do, it provides me clarity unlike anything I have ever experienced. Adrian? You and these two spent all afternoon scheming. I know Delilah was here last night. Don’t you think after all that, she might have preferred at least a visit back over here? But no. You are not ready.”
“Get the fuck out of here,” I said. “All of you! Now!”
“Come, gentlemen,” Cassius said. “And not a word. We’ve said what must be said.”
Dante appeared to protest, but Cassius’ glare shut him up. I stared back at them as they left, but it was a damn good thing they didn’t respond to me. Because what I felt then wasn’t anger, despite my shouting.
It was nothing.
I was just numb.
If Cassius had continued to taunt me, egging me on as if trying to get me to fight, I would not have had anything. I would have just stared until he left, given up, or touched me—and only then might the monster in me have come out.
But the fact that I was this desensitized, this unable to feel anything… that was unnerving.
It was, truly, my nadir.
The King of Hearts was shattering before my very eyes.
Mercifully, the three brothers left without another word, not even another look back. Left by myself, Lucas’ words started to feel kind of true. I wasn’t about to do anything too crazy or self-harming.
But the thoughts going through my mind were either insane, despairing, or a bit of both, and it was very difficult to distinguish what was what.
Delilah was indeed right. My need for control was my greatest priority, as my actions had indicated. I had won her for one night, won the Vale empire we had—and for what? For me to feel like this?
Only now did I realize Delilah did more for me than just get my dick off last night. She challenged me to be better—a better man. She challenged me to discard personas and public appearances and show the real man. Being with her had started off as a thrill, but it had morphed into something better.
And if I were ever, ever to have any chance of getting her back, I had to become someone better without her help.
Yet, the very thought of that seemed outright laughable.
“If you ever want to truly talk, if you ever want to truly see me, then you know where to find me. But if you come, Adrian? Don’t come to find me. Find the real me. And make sure you bring yourself, not the King of Diamonds.”
Unfortunately, right now, that seemed downright impossible.
Separating me, the man, from me, the King of Diamonds, seemed like asking the impossible.
To become a better man without the woman who had made me realize such a thing was possible.