V
Royal
L ast night—or more accurately, this morning—after getting back from Tori’s initiation, Syn let Gemini walk into the house, but before I could follow, Syn grabbed me by the scruff of the collar and shoved me up against the side of the house as he slammed the door shut.
“If you need to scratch an itch and have your dick in every one of her holes, you do that, but don’t you dare forget that JP was your brother as much as mine.”
Syn has this ability to turn on the charm and let this almost magnetic appeal ooze out of him with such ease, that if you didn’t know him, you wouldn’t be able to tell there’s absolutely no sincerity behind it. With his looks, especially his perfect smile, I’ve never doubted that he’s got what it takes to not only be a politician, but to also take himself all the way to the White House—even if that’s not what he really wants.
Even though he wasn’t hurting me as he held me up against the wall, that was the first time I’ve ever seen that dark side turn on me.
Syn was right.
JP was family. I was closer to him than I’d ever been with any of my brothers, and I still feel his loss.
When the former Elite president, Preston du Pont, announced Gem and I would be vice president this year, I was worried about moving into this house. The results hadn’t even been a surprise. Since my freshman year, I knew Syn would be the Elite’s president, and Gemini and I would be there by his side.
Yet somehow, the moment it was made official—to the rest of the society, at least—the reality of moving into the house that JP once lived in became real.
I’d never even visited JP while he was at college, and I don’t think even Syn ever had the chance other than the day JP moved in, so I’d never seen what Denali House even looked like then.
Preston said the building had been completely renovated over Christmas break after JP’s death. Before that, it was still a house fit for the president and vice presidents of the Elite, but afterwards, it had upgrades and tech that would surprise a lot of people.
Preston said he made sure the designer in charge of the project had completely altered every room, including JP’s. Not to remove any trace of him, but so that in future, when Syn would be living here, he wouldn’t feel haunted by his brother.
However, if that was indeed the intention, it was a huge failure.
JP’s still all over this house.
Denali House is unique in many ways, but one is the double staircase in the entrance. On the walls on either side hang portraits of each of the former Elite presidents since James Keyingham himself, the first, back in the 1840s.
His leadership was cut short, but JP’s picture hangs on the wall too.
When I first visited this house my freshman, sophomore, or junior year, I had to walk up the other staircase whenever I had to go upstairs. For the first few days after officially moving in this summer, I’d done the same.
Only, at the end of this hallway, another portrait of JP hangs on the wall beside the window that overlooks the back garden. Although none of us have ever mentioned it, I know all three of us have stood in front of that picture and stared at it.
Syn has never spoken about any of it—being on the same campus, living in the same house… After the funeral, he barely mentioned JP’s name. Not until he found out Tori was coming.
The picture of JP captures everything that was warm and good about him—which was pretty much everything. His face was a good reminder of all the good times we’d had when I was a kid.
Now…
Now, all I see is guilt.
Which is why I couldn’t be mad at Syn last night, even when he pointed out that he could tell how disappointed I was that he stopped me from coming inside of Tori.
I’m still not mad.
Not at Syn, anyway.
I’m mad at this fucked up situation.
After Syn left the meeting room with Tori, I followed Gemini upstairs. Unbothered by anything, in true Gemini style, he announced he was going to play a game and disappeared into his room.
Instead of going into mine, I got pulled to JP’s portrait. I’m still staring at the dark wood.
Syn is my best friend.
My brother by choice.
And so was—is—JP.
I can’t betray either of them.
Especially not for pussy.
True loyalty comes from those who are family by choice. The larger your bank account, the less likely it is for a woman to stick around longer than the minimum terms on a prenup. But chosen brothers will stick by your side no matter what fucked up shit is happening in your life.
There’s nothing that would make Gemini or Syn turn their backs on me.
Except for choosing a temporary infatuation with ictoria Reynolds over them.
Over JP.
Hours later and I still can’t stop thinking about it. Rubbing my hand over my face, I force myself out of the trance I’ve worked myself into and head inside to the gym. Basketball season is back, and even if this team will never win the championship, I should really be training as often as possible.
Although my mind isn’t really focused on my workout, I don’t stop moving until I’ve finally decided what I need to do.
Interaction with Tori only needs to happen when Syn or Gemini are around.
Besides, when it comes to new, shiny objects, this one will tarnish soon anyway.
Finally deciding to give up on the ruse of training I glance at my phone and see that Syn’s called a meeting after dinner to announce the start of Tori’s initiation.
Instead of going to the dining hall, Syn decided tonight, Seamus was going to cook. Usually, Seamus doesn’t work on a Sunday, but since Tori was moving in, Syn said he needed to be here.
The guy’s kinda creepy, but he can cook.
And tonight, I can smell something delicious when I head down into the kitchen.
Seamus is at the island, in the process of serving up the food, but what I’m not expecting is Syn in there too. On the rare occasion we’ve eaten here over the last few months, Syn has always been seated at the table, waiting to be served.
Instead, he’s on the other side of the island.
Talking to Tori.
“… last thing I’d ever tell you to do, is cook.”
“Worried I’m going to poison your oatmeal?”
Syn looks like he can smell a dog fart and not the citrus aroma of the Duck à l'Orange. “I would rather hire a drunk, truck stop dive bar cook than eat anything you served.”
“Initiates don’t cook,” I say, walking over. “We have Michelin starred chefs working in the dining hall.”
Tori looks at me, her lips pressed together. I’m not sure what’s happened, but there’s a look in her eyes. I’ve seen it before, though not on her. When playing basketball, and there’s only a few seconds on the clock, and all it’s going to take for the other team to beat us is a 3-pointer… every player gets this look in their eyes like they’re going to buckle down and somehow win the game.
They rarely do.
“Starting tomorrow, you will be at the dining hall before every meal to have our table ready for us, and like every initiate, you will serve us personally. Seeing as we will not know when we want to eat, you will be there the moment the dining hall opens. No exceptions.”
Tori stares at Syn, frowning slightly, like she’s expecting a catch. Then her eyes widen. “There are days when I have classes before the lunch and dinner services start.”
Syn folds his arms. “You wanted to join the Elite. I told you that initiations ended last night, and that if you were to proceed, you would do this alone. Initiates are required to serve the presidential party at every meal.” He cocks his head. “Or did you fail to notice that when you were busy doing dishes?”
Beside her, Tori squeezes her hands into fists, but Syn’s staring at her face and doesn’t seem to notice.
“Fine,” she says through gritted teeth.
“They also cleaned this house, daily.” Syn turns his head a fraction towards Seamus. “Good news, Moran, your full-paid light duties have been extended.”
Tori’s knuckles are white. “Fine.”
The cold smile slips from Syn’s face. “Fine, what ?”
“Fine, sir .”
Syn takes a step towards her, and I’m about to stretch my arm between the two of them, but Gemini’s voice makes us all pause.
“Which tax bracket did we fall into to eat in the kitchen?”
Stepping back, Syn looks over at Gemini and scoffs. “Tax bracket? My watch is worth more than a tax bracket.”
Honestly, I know fuck all about taxes and zero interest in learning. That’s the accountant’s job, not mine. But the Magsonic Sonnerie Tourbillon on Syn’s wrist is worth about half a million.
“Dinner is ready to be served, Mr. Keyingham,” Seamus says.
Syn starts to turn towards the door, but he stops and focuses his attention back on Tori. “Initiates do not eat in this house.” He glances briefly at Gemini before drawing in a resigned breath. “But as you are living here, I’m making an exception. Tonight, you’re permitted to eat in your room. After you eat, you will clean the kitchen. From tomorrow on, you will eat in the dining hall… after we have been served.”
She looks stunned, but I’m not sure why.
At the end of the day, she wanted to join the Elite, and this is exactly what all the other initiates had to do.
Then again, I was expecting something more from Syn, so maybe she was too.
She’s not my concern .