Page 151 of Dukes of Peril

“Do you want to know?”Sy asks, sliding his gaze to mine when we get out of the car.

Knowing he’s talking about what happened in that office with the other Kings, I arch an eyebrow. “Do I need to know?”

He doesn’t think about it very long. “A bit, yeah.”

Nodding, I look around and answer, “Upstairs.”

West End is quiet.

It took me a long time to re-adjust to that after South Side. The lack of screams, gunfire, and traffic felt eerie at first, as if the streets here were holding their breath, waiting for the crash. I realize now the serenity isn’t a trick. Instead of making my shoulders tense, West End has become the thing that unwinds them. The sense of home.

The girl by my side as we approach the tower is just as silent, and I feel it now–the tension. The discomfort. The alert.

I toss Sy a look and he shrugs, casting her the same curious glance. But it’s been a long week. We all deserve some quiet to wrap our heads around the fuckery.

Sy holds the door for us and we filter through, but when we reach the bottom of the stairs, Lavinia says, “Wait.” She stops and Remy pauses just ahead of her, turning to look back down. “I need to do something. I’ll meet you upstairs.”

The three of us watch as she turns, approaching the elevator.

“Whoa, hey,” I say, following her. “What’s going on?”

The line of her shoulders goes rigid. “I just… I need to do this. For myself.”

It’s been a few days since we’ve worked with her on it, so busy and preoccupied with Royal business. Eyeing her carefully, I stab the button. “I’ll go with you.”

She gives me a tight smile. “Thank you, but I need to… go alone.” The door opens, and it takes her a second, but she finally crosses the threshold. Turning, I see that her eyes are tight and shiny, but there aren’t any tears. “See you upstairs.”

The door shuts and I stand there for a long moment after it’s gone, just listening for her screams. “Remy,” I say, twisting to meet his gaze. “Run.”

He’s the fastest, and I don’t even have a chance to see the acknowledgement spark in his eyes before he’s darting up the steps, disappearing around the bend.

Sy waits for me at the bottom of the staircase, staring at the elevator uneasily. “What the fuck is that?”

“I don’t know,” I answer, beginning the climb, “but I plan on finding out.”

The door is open by the time we reach the top, Lavinia and Remy sitting on the couch, her face buried into his shoulder. He strokes her hair, and from a panic standpoint, she seems to be doing okay, but putting herself in that situation? Something drove her there.

The way Remy is looking at her makes me think he knows more than he’s saying.

“Someone explain what’s going on,” I demand, dissatisfied when Remy just looks from me to her. “Now.”

Lavinia turns her head, peering up at me through swimming eyes. “I ran into my father outside the gym.”

“You what?” Sy’s shoulders square. “You talked to him?”

Well, that was messy. The plan had been to minimize contact between Lavinia, Remy, and their fathers. Now they’re both on the couch looking small and tense, shifty and miserable. Fucking assholes.

Palming her own forehead, she takes a shuddering breath. “I know it’s dumb to let him get to me–”

“That’s not dumb,” Remy says, ducking down to watch his thumb rub a tear off her cheek. “That fucked up muscle memory? He built it himself, Vinny. He had all the best tools–they always do. And people like you and me are trying to tear it down with nothing but a pair of spoons. It takes time.” Huffing, he stresses, “It takes for-fucking-ever.”

Sy’s fists clench. “What did he say?”

When she shakes her head, I figure she won’t say anything at all. Miraculously she does, eyes fixed on her fingernails as she picks the cuticle. “He said a lot of stuff. About you. About Leticia and my mother. About the fact I’m going to drag you down. And the thing is, he’s probably right.” She looks up, eyes swimming with panic. “Sy, my father raised a Queen, but it wasn’t me.”

“LB,” I say, sitting on the coffee table, eyeing the way Remy has both their pants undone, star and moon tattoos exposed. “I need you to listen to me. Your father is a narcissistic, toxic piece of shit.”

Frustration flares in her eyes. “I know.” She does know, but Remy’s right. He’s fucked with her head for so long, all it takes is one interaction with her and she loses all ground. She looks at Sy. “You called it, okay? I’m a Royal cliché with daddy issues.”

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