CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
SAINT
Amber light floods into my apartment, revealing my immediate younger brother, Virgil.
Every ounce of excitement from the kiss bleeds through my veins when I lay my eyes on him.
He sprawls on the charcoal-leather couch, eyes tracking the room as I walk around, taking off my jacket.
“Is there a problem?” I ask when he doesn’t take his eyes off me.
I walk to the wine shelf and lift a red wine bottle, pouring myself a drink.
All I think about, even in this moment, is our kiss.
As I stride back to the living room, I sit down opposite Virgil. He looks at me, eyes sharp with a censorious stare.
“You are not the same person, brother.” His fingers rest on the leather couch. He doesn’t take his eyes off me.
The wineglass lingers below my lips. My harsh eyes snap over to him. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“That man at Genesis.”
“What about him?” I ask, shoulders rising into a shrug. I relax against the leather chair. He rises to his feet and paces the space between us.
“You are supposed to be the next king of our empire. You should have been home when all of this was happening. But you weren’t. You were in some goddamn city fucking your personal assistant.”
My pulse tenses. I set the glass aside and force a smile at my brother.
He was wrong about fucking Mason. Unless he wants me to, I’m not planning to fuck him anytime soon.
And fuck him for thinking I wasn’t all in for family.
I have bled for this family. I got my first battle scar even before Virgil turned ten. I have sacrificed my entire life for legacy. And I won’t stand here and watch him think I’d ever choose someone who doesn’t matter over family.
“I’m not sure what you’re trying to insinuate.”
“You fucking know!” He barks, neck corded with veins, and his eyes fly wide with a piercing stare.
“Fuck this! You’re supposed to focus on the arranged marriage with Adanna.
We almost lost everything, and you drove off with your lover.
” He seethes, and the humiliation in his voice deepens when he mentions the word lover.
My fingers clench and unclench. Bile burns at the back of my throat. My jaw works.
He’s right.
My priorities are in the wrong place. What makes me think it’s okay to run across that street to ask him for a kiss? What makes me think it’s okay to enjoy kissing him? Did my father’s punishment not teach me a lesson?
“Think about this, brother, and make sure you are at the house tomorrow.” He picks up his car keys from the side stool and circles me to the elevator.
“I need you to do something for me.” My tone stays flat, just as his steps slow to a soundless halt. “Get Bernard to one of our torture houses. He needs to answer some questions.”
He groans an inaudible response and leaves me in the suffocating apartment.
I leave the unfinished wine behind and head upstairs, stripping in the bathroom.
I shut the door behind me and enter the enclosed glass shower, twisting the knob.
My body tenses and relaxes when the warm water splashes against my corded back.
I press my hand against the glass, and steam rises around me while I keep my head down.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck me!
Why did I think I’d ever get a happy ending? Why did I think that what happened with Mason in the prison cell could change anything? Why did I want his touch? What even makes me think that when he sees who I truly am he’d want to stay?
The dangerous sinner beneath.
The man whose soul has been tainted the very moment he stepped into the world.
I lift my right hand from the glass, and I slam my palm against my head repeatedly.
He doesn’t matter to me. Not even one bit.
Whatever he makes me feel isn’t enough to save me from all of this? If my father finds out I’m stepping out of line again, he’ll make me kill him. He’ll take him from me.
What’s best for me is distance. Distance from him is the better option. Focusing on family. That’s what matters to me.
But no matter how much I convince myself that I wasn’t terrified of losing him in the torture house.
That the moment those soldiers took him instead of me wasn’t mortifying.
The truth punches a devastating hole through my head, reminding me of the line I crossed.
Having to hold my heart in my hands while waiting for him to regain consciousness.
Having to wish those chains didn’t hold me back from pulling him into my arms.
I wanted him in my arms.
A rough, disbelieving laugh escapes me. Hollow and bitter.
Why did I think that this was ever going to end well? That I would step out of the shell of a man I have been all my life.
The following morning, I’m up and ready by seven.
My new driver holds the door open for me, and I get in.
I don’t bother learning his name. He puts the car in ignition and drives into the city, heading straight to the King mansion.
As the car rolls through the driveway lined with cypress trees, my lungs lurch with the anticipation of my father’s demeaning gaze.
I practice what he’ll say. Practice my responses.
Yet it’s not enough to stop the walls of the car closing in around me.
My breathing triples as I place my hand against the leather seat to steady myself.
Get it together, Saint!
“We are here, sir.” The man behind the wheel announces, and I grip the handle and open the door, hurrying out of the car. I inhale sharply. Nerves burning with hesitation, I regard the building before me and straighten my back.
Entering the house, I meet Father sitting in the dining room. Alone. He holds a newspaper in his hand, and a cup of tea and some slices of bread rest against the polished table. His impassive gaze flickers to me, and my heart flips twice as I settle down opposite him.
“Father. Morning, sir.”
“Morning.” He says, flipping the newspaper to the next page.
“Virgil told me what happened at Genesis City. Was it worth it? Did you get a deal?” He deadpans. His fingers curl around the teacup, revealing his wedding ring. He still wears it. Even years after my mother had passed.
“Yes, Prince and I concluded we’d sign a contract if all goes well.”
“Hmm.” He nods. “And you ran into Cyrus Deveraux?”
“He ambushed us. Took my assistant and me.” I give over the information he so desperately wants.
“And it took you two weeks!” The words barrel out of him, breath sharp and rough. “Two weeks! And you didn’t even escape. Your brothers had to come and save you.”
How do I admit that I could have broken out, but I didn’t want to?
I wanted to bear the consequences of the pain I carried for the past twenty years. I was ready to die at Cyrus’s hand.
“Take off your clothes. Show me your scars. I hope they’re worth it.” He bites out venomously.
I rise to my feet, fingers moving off the buttons of my suit.
I take each piece of clothing one humiliating moment after the other until I’m standing naked in front of him.
He observes the healing scars on my chest. The bruise on my jaw.
Then he hums apathetically and gestures to the seat beside me. “Sit.”
My body shivers with a tremor as I sit naked on the chair.
“Virgil must have told you about the raid by law enforcement.” He continues without looking at me. “Thankfully, I moved everything to the safe-house. I did that the time our warehouse was burned. And you haven’t found the culprit, have you?”
“No, sir.”
“It’s been almost a month. We haven’t found who tampered with our shipment or fucked up our warehouse. We have traitors right now planning their next move. Let me ask you a question, Demetrius.” He looks at me. “Are you man enough to be the next successor? I’m barely four months away from dying.”
“I can, Father.”
“Then fucking prove it to me!” He slams his hands against the table. I remain motionless, facial expression unreadable as I look at the man who raised me. “Don’t come back here unless you have the heads of all of them.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Get out of my sight.” He says, voice dismissive. I regain my footing and pick up my clothes, walking out of the dining room naked, body reeling with embarrassment and mortification.
I put my clothes back on in the empty living room, and I march out of the house, dialing my brother’s number. When his voice stutters through the speaker, I ask. “You’ve got Bernard?”
“Yes.”
“And have you questioned him?” My voice shakes with anger.
“Yes, he says he’s not responsible.”
“Of course, he’s not. Torture him until he tells the fucking truth.”
“Yes, sir.” Virgil answers before the line goes dead.
Returning to my apartment, I meet Cross cooking lunch in my kitchen. I missed his art show. He smiles at me as he looks over his shoulder, and I sigh, returning the favor even though it’s not how I’m feeling at the moment.
“I heard you were back. I couldn’t make it to Genesis. I’m sorry.” He apologizes. “Um. I was hungry.” He tells him while I fetch an unfinished bottle of scotch from the bottom drawer and pour myself a drink.
“You met Father, didn’t you?” he sighs and slaps a pat on my shoulder. “He ruins everything,” Cross murmurs under his breath, voice laced with despair.
The alcohol burns down my throat as I take a sip. “But I got you something from the show. I already put it up in your room.”
“Thank you, Cross.” I remark. “Have you got anything on Neo?”
“I have been tracking him. He visited this apartment a few times, even last night. But I think he’s just there to see someone.”
“Find out who he’s visiting, what he’s doing in that building.” I drawl. I was hoping Ali would have information now, but I know he’ll deliver. He’d give me everything I needed to rip out all the threats lurking as friends in my family.
“Breakfast’s ready.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Saint, you can’t let him ruin your life. I know what it’s like being the other son.” He puts his hand on my shoulder and gives me a full-hearted smile. “Sit.” He says. “Because I also wanted to tell my big brother that I met someone, and I can’t get them out of my mind.”
“First time I’m hearing my brother’s got a girlfriend,” I mutter, and he gives me a sensitive look. “Or boyfriend.”
“Someone I shouldn’t be messing with.”
We all have someone we shouldn’t be messing with. My mind returns to Mason. Not this. Not now. I shut off my screen with an exasperated sigh and place my phone on the table just as Cross sets down the bowl of steaming yam porridge.
“Thank you.”
He fills his plate and sits opposite me. “Does he like you?”
“It’s only been two weeks.”
“You met him at the art show?” I lift my brow.
“Yes, I did.” He nods happily.
I grip my spoon and stare at the bowl of food before me, lips forming a thin line. “How do you do it? How do you know you should go after something?”
“I don’t know. It’s a feeling. I follow it.
” He shrugs and looks at me. “Virgil told me about what happened with some guy you dated a while back. Don’t let that stop you from going after someone you think about very often.
” Cross grew up with us but he traveled around a lot with his grandfather.
Olivia and Cross are the only people who don’t exactly know who their father was.
Tobias cared for Olivia mostly because he reminded her of our mother.
For Cross, he never cared at all. They don’t know his crippling violence.
He forged me to be his successor and beat Virgil into a soldier.
My heart warms with a feeling I haven’t had for years. I just realized how I have never had a sit-down with my youngest brother like this or even spent time with my siblings for a change.
Only father’s needs and wants.
Only the successorship.
“Wait, who is she? Your wife-to-be?” His eyes widen with excitement.
“Far from it. It’s someone I shouldn’t even think of being with. He doesn’t know about our roots. I’m not sure he’ll be comfortable with the truth.”
“You’ll never know. Just follow your gut.”
My gut? That’s not what I was taught.
Logic is what matters. Evidence. Real, raw evidence. What I can see and touch. Not feelings.
Maybe this brunch was a bad idea.
Maybe it’s not. Maybe I should listen to my younger brother and go after Mason. I won’t make it just about my body or satisfying my sickness.
Every scorching nerve in me wants Mason in a suffocating way.
And soon, I’ll run out of air.
I’m fucked.