Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 79846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
He took a bite of his soup and regarded me.
“What is it about him…that makes you feel this way?” This invisible divide between us always made us feel friendly but not friends. Maybe someday that would change. Maybe it never would.
He cleaned off his spoon before setting it on the linen on the table. The question seemed to make him lose his appetite, because he moved on to his tea and abandoned his lunch. “I’m sure you can guess, Melanie. You can guess better than anyone…”
I let the conversation die. If he wanted to answer, he could. If he didn’t, that was his business. My food was no longer appetizing either, so I pushed it away and grabbed my tea and cookies.
“He’s the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen…for one.” He drew a deep breath then let it out slowly, like he was getting these heavy feelings off his chest. “I’ve never told anyone about this before, so it’s both strange and cathartic to discuss.”
“You don’t have to. I just…was curious.”
Gilbert watched me dunk my cookies into the tea before he continued. “The way he carries himself. The way he orders me around but never scolds me. He’s a natural leader. He handles business like he’d been doing it for many lifetimes. He earns the respect of everyone around him without even trying. He says so much without saying anything at all. And his eyes…they’re so deep and beautiful. He looks mad most of the time, but that intensity…it’s so sexy. He’s a man, you know? He’s so…manly. I just love that. Strong. Powerful. Masculine. And while he’s not affectionate, he’s good to us. He’s good to the people who are loyal to him. He’s the most hardworking person I’ve ever been around. It’s all those things, everything about him, every little thing…”
Sixteen
All That’s Left
Fender
The sun was out.
The sky was clear, revealing the French Alps in the distance, the powder gleaming under the sunlight. There wasn’t even a breeze, but the air was cold, absorbing the vapor that left my nostrils.
My stay had been worse than usual. Melanie was waiting at home for me when she used to be the reason I looked forward to coming to the camp. She had been the reason I’d stayed longer than I should.
But with her gone, my nights were lonely.
My boots smashed the snow underneath me as I crossed the ground, spots of soil breaking up the solid white cover. My men flanked me on either side, armed under their jackets, in case the guards staged a coup or one of the women was angry enough to come for me.
One woman in particular.
My black horse was ready for my departure. He was mine exclusively, and I was the only one permitted to ride him. He was well trained and obedient with a black coat that rebelled against the white landscape. A gorgeous horse deserved the right rider, and I paid a sum greater than a car to be that rider.
I always wanted the best in life.
My eyes left the steed waiting for me and settled on Magnus.
With his hood pushed back, he waited for me to approach.
We hadn’t spoken after our tense conversation in the cabin. Wordlessly, he did his job, and I did mine. I didn’t wait for an apology or an admission of guilt, and even if it did happen, it wouldn’t change anything. The deep-seated loyalty I had for my brother was the reason he was still breathing right now.
I stared him down as I took the reins from the guard. “Leave us.”
They all obeyed immediately—the way Magnus should.
Their footfalls died away as they entered deeper into the camp, moving through the cabins and approaching the clearing.
I held the reins even though Horus remained still.
Magnus stepped closer to me, my height but leaner in his arms and torso. His eyes remained guarded and cold, unapologetic about the last words he’d spoken to me. “I’ve had a few conversations with the Colombians about the increased production. We’re working on a solution to our problem.”
“I want a solution. Not an update.”
“Solutions take time, Fender.”
“We are men who don’t try. We do. Remember the difference.” I expected every man who worked for me to bust his ass like his life depended on it. That was how we took over the entirety of France and claimed it as our territory. When a streetwalker got their hands on our drugs and started their own pitiful organization, they were taken out. We didn’t ignore them because their enterprise was laughable or because they were insignificant. We took on every single threat, no matter how small, just out of principle. Our business was run like a militia, with no exceptions. If you were going to bother to do something, do it the best. Something my father said when I was younger. The only advice I ever valued from that piece of shit.