Page 18 of His Pretty Little Duet

"Very good," Luca states, tapping Clay on the shoulder before leaving the room with a stiff nod.

Shoshanna watches him leave, and then stares at Clay expectantly while I dart my eyes between them, wondering what I'm missing. "Maybe she'd like some privacy for the next part of this, Clay?" she says firmly.

He shakes his head once but creates the illusion of discretion, by stepping into a corner of the room and sitting down on a chair. "Privacy is a privilege."

"Well, I'm her doctor. So, you need to move up by her head." He stares at her, a subtle smile on his face but a pulse beneath his jaw. Shoshanna rolls her eyes. The exchange is familiar, as though they are related. She looks back at me as she says, "Have you had a Pap smear since you had intercourse, Fawn?"

My world tilts, and I glance at Clay but he's cool as a cucumber, as though watching a pelvic exam is just in a day's work for him. The tips of my ears burn as I dart my gaze to the ends of my hair, shaking my head slowly.

"No worries. I'll do it now."

Clay

The girl is invaluable.

Aurora and I enter the boardroom to find my brothers awaiting the news. Butch, my father, flanks us. The chair at the head of the polished black oak table is empty, waiting for me, while Butch moves straight to the position to the right. Eager to hear the verdict, my youngest brothers, Max and Xander, are already seated.

A meeting of this importance would usually require at least two of our capos, but this is a family issue. I have left my brothers out of most business affairs for the past twelve months, but this... this is personal. The other families in the District accept Dustin's time is up but are staying on the sidelines of this situation.

Dustin is a boss, with his own loyalties and alliances, and they don't need targets on them while we finalise this matter.

Across the room, Bronson is at the bar, helping himself to a coffee, working the machine and harmlessly flirting with Sofia as she offers to prepare it for him.

As is her job.

"I got it, darlin'," he says with a wink that is all for show. That is one Butcher who has never been available to women. He's been lost in the ocean of Shoshanna since he was a teenager. The coffee is probably to combat the fatigue my nephew Stone is causing him. Knowing my little brother, he probably takes the night feeds so Shosh can sleep.

I hide my own fatigue well.

The memory of what they lost all those years ago, the conversation I had with Bronson's woman, assurances I gave her that they would be happy, protected... but I didn't keep them—couldn't.I lock my jaw and smile smoothly at my company. Aurora pulls my chair out slightly, her hands squeezing the leather head, an edgy reaction that displeases me. Offends me, even.

This is her family too.

Being Jimmy Storm's daughter does not make her any less a Butcher, and she shouldn't be pulling out my goddamn chair. I nod at her, my eyes cutting, delivering a message of disapproval before I take my place as the head of my family. A position twisted with expectation, given to me, burned into my soul the moment I was born.

I lean back, the wing-back declining slightly. Lifting my ankle to my knee, I nod and smile at Max. "We have Dustin's daughter and grandson."

The energy thickens. Max almost smiles, but it is anything but fucking pleasant, vengeance in the subtle curve of his lips. He deserves his revenge, but this was too easy. "I'm not eager to dive into this manhunt yet, mate." I shake my head. "I raided Dustin's warehouse and five million dollars' worth of weaponry. All from deals Dustin had made with the IndonesianPreman. The exchange of management has not been easy. They left me with crates full of unboxed live rounds to sort. Weapons in pieces. This shipment was a mess.

"So I now have five senators involved in this corrupt shitshow and thirty members of their party in the District to meet with, to get a better feel for where their loyalties lie. And the same week they arrive, a little deer walks into my house." Leaning forward, I focus my attention completely on him. "I don't like coincidences."

Butch sighs roughly. "Before our rivalry started, Dustin and I had an understanding. He wanted me to arrange a union between one of my boys and one of his daughters. Not having a son of his own weakens him."

"Dustin doesn't know about the girl," my youngest brother Xander states adamantly. "He might offer up his daughter as a spy, but he wouldn't risk his grandson." He shifts his gaze between Max and me. He may be the youngest of us, but that kid's a damn genius. If only he would spend more time studying and less time in the ring, he'd have taken the bar by now. "If Dustin does have an alliance with any of the members visiting from Indonesia, then we should make sure they all meet the girl."

I nod my agreement. "I'll have her attend dinner on Saturday. If they are in alliance with him, we won't have to go anywhere to get the news to Jakarta. They'll take it to him. And then, he'll come tous."

I glance at my father, a quiet perceptive man who speaks when necessary or not at all. Still, he's stronger than most men his age, having been raised in the ring. To this day, he could beat the life from any of us with his fists. In that respect, he and Max are basically carbon copies.

Max cups his fist, cracking his knuckles—a Butcher habit that runs innately in us from years of boxing out our frustrations. Before our heads even heat, the fists and jaw prepare, indicating our brewing irritation.

He levels me with a stare. "And if they are not safe-housing Dustin, we hunt the bastard down."

I feel Aurora's presence behind me, her unsaid advice and whisperings scoring down my neck. Exhaling roughly, I focus on Max, knowing he will understand the need for caution, but hating that I must make him wait longer. If this was Bronson's revenge, I'd have a far harder time encouraging him to see reason. That is one Butcher whose hot head explodes rather than bubbles. "We watch the girl for a while first. Let her get comfortable. Make damn sure she is here for the reasons she says."

Bronson settles into the seat beside Max, sipping his coffee, his tattooed fingers a stark contrast to the china teacup in his hand. A shiny Glock flashes from his holster as he shrugs off his jacket.

"Then..." I clasp my hands together on the table, setting my eyes on our father. "You take some men and the news to the streets. Get the prick out of hiding."

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