Page 137 of Dukes of Peril

“Well,” I retrieve my glass of scotch, “I know how much you love an ambush meeting, so I figured I’d play by your rules.”

He gestures to the seat I’d been occupying. “Sit down and tell me what’s on your mind.” More harshly, he adds, “And for once, it’d better not be your Duchess’ pussy.”

“I can’t promise that,” I admit, taking a sip of the amber liquid. “I’m here for two reasons, and one is to ask you to back off Lavinia. She’s done everything you’ve asked. If you’re just using her to get back at Nick, then maybe what I’m about to say can lead us to a suitable agreement.”

Saul leans against his obnoxiously rugged desk, arms crossed. “Shoot your shot, kid.”

I twist the glass in my hand, voice measured. “If you leave her alone, I’ll handle Nick.”

“Is that so?” His chuckle is full of mocking spite. “I doubt our ideas on how to handle Nicholas align.”

My jaw tightens as I look up, meeting his gaze. “You made your point yesterday, Saul. You won.You’rethe victor.”

There’s not a DKS alive that doesn’t feel a rush when those words are said, not even Saul Cartwright. I can see the spark of satisfaction in his eyes now, and I can even imagine what he’s thinking.

Two Bruins down.

“And what about the Oakfields?” he says, chest expanding arrogantly. “They’re an important family–integral to our ammunition supply. Bruce is feeling… underappreciated.”

I’m not good at this part of it. The pretense. The acting. Luckily, I don’t have to pretend when my teeth clench. “What are you saying?”

Saul pushes off the desk, his stride to the window lackadaisical. “I think it’d be best if you asked your brother to step down and give Bruce his rightful spot.”

My eyes track him carefully. “Step down. As in, leave DKS.”

Linking his hands behind him, Saul gazes out at the field below. “Yes.”

“He’s the heir,” I point out. “No one has the right to ask him to do that.”

He twists to meet my gaze. “Yet, I suspect he would. For her. Foryou.”

I pretend to think about it, staring thoughtfully into my glass. Saul lets me mull it over, his goon watching with shrewd eyes. I hedge, “So if I make this happen…”

“I’ll let Nicholas live,” he assures, tugging a cigar from his jacket pocket. “Just not in West End.”

“And if I don’t, you’ll kill him.” The thought is so laughable that I struggle to keep a straight face. In no universe could Saul beat my brother.

Saul shrugs, saying, “It’s quite simple, really. A Bruin and a Cartwright can’t coexist here.” He sets his sights on the couch opposite me, strolling toward it. “Do you know why I didn’t kill Davis twenty-five-years ago?”

I watch as Saul takes a seat, puffing his cigar to a bright ember. “Because he left of his own accord. You didn’t need to spill blood unnecessarily.” The next words taste like acid on my tongue. “I’ve always held a strong respect for that.”

Glancing at Neon, Saul barks a laugh. “How precious is this kid?” He gives me a patronizing smile, like I’m far dimmer than he expected. “Just because I hate something doesn’t mean I’m stupid enough to ignore it. Fact is, the Bruin name means something here.” Face darkening, he inspects the end of his cigar. “I can kill every man it belongs to–eradicate his whole fucking bloodline–but I can never kill that. The name. The legacy. The reputation. All I can do is give them time to kill it themselves.” Bringing the cigar to his mouth, he chuckles. “They almost did, too. Nick going to South Side was damn near perfect. Sullied the name in a single year, and I didn’t even have to lift a finger.” Pausing, he adds, “Well, not much of one.”

Confused, I wonder, “So why bother letting him in the belfry again? Why give him a chance to earn their loyalty?”

“Because I knew he wouldn’t,” Saul snaps, eyes sparking dangerously. “When your enemy’s a fuck-up like Nick Bruin, the best place to put him is front-and-center. Let everyone see that the Bruin name is just as useless as the man it’s attached to.” He leans back, some of the tight fury smoothing from his features. “But don’t think I haven’t appreciated the strain that’s put on you, Simon. Your brother’s return has done nothing but ignite chaos in the tower. First the girl, then Perez, now the embarrassment at the poker game.” He looks me up and down, contemplative. “You’re a much more capable leader.”

Funny. Saul really is DKS. He’d come to the same decision as the rest of the frat. He just didn’t realize to what end. Not yet.

I throw the last of my drink back, slamming the empty glass on the table. “Then I accept your terms.”

He raises an eyebrow. Someone ‘precious’ might think he’s surprised that selling my brother out was that easy, but I see the understanding in his eyes. To him, power is the strongest allure of all, and that little comment was a message.

Remove Nick, and he’ll make me the figurehead of the Dukes.

I add, “With one request,” and he tips his head back, assessing me closely.

“I’m guessing I'll need a drink for this,” he says, gesturing to Neon, who immediately approaches the little bar by the desk. “Let’s hear it, Perilini. Name your stipulations.”

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