Page 44 of The Honest Affair

Gardner gritted his teeth. He would have brought security too, but he couldn’t afford them anymore. To complete his humiliation, he’d had to fire the entire staff at the penthouse, where he now squatted free of charge but completely alone, thanks to the freezing of the accounts. So for now, his security was gone, his driver, his secretary, even the investigator he’d hired for a bit to follow Nina on her infernally boring walks to and from the gym.

He knew they should have fought the freeze, though his lawyers initially thought it was a good idea. Nina’s cousin Eric would have never let her go hungry—the fucking de Vrieses might have been cold as ice, but their family loyalty ran deeper than anyone knew. Gardner knew, though. Oh, did he know. He’d been trying to chip that fucking block for almost eleven years now. And for what? An empty penthouse?

A fucking pittance. The memories of all his humiliations at the hands of the family made his blood boil all over again. They’d pay. One day, they’d all pay.

In the meantime, there was still the Pantheon money, sitting pretty in the Caymans. But if he put a toe over there, the fucking IRS would be breathing down his neck in a second. Which is why he needed Faber’s help. Why he was crawling back to Janus one last time.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Gardner’s head snapped up at the sound of Faber’s voice, and he realized he’d been daydreaming again. He started to sweat—he couldn’t help it around these people.

“Nothing,” he said. “I’m fine. Nice of you to show up. Thank you.”

He had to pay homage. He couldn’t afford to piss off this guy. Even if he was looking at him like he was a bug on the bottom of his shoe.

Gardner didn’t like Michael Faber, but he was one of the only four men he knew were a part of the Janus society. He wasn’t supposed to know—no one was. And the fact that he did know would either be what protected him or killed him.

“Let’s not beat around the bush,” Faber said. “Letour is going down. His trial is next week, and the society is letting him hang. I’m sorry, but we’re out.”

Which meant only one thing. They were going to let Pantheon and the whole fucking operation land on him. And keep all the money to themselves.

“No!” Gardner sputtered. “You can’t! After everything—I demand an explanation. I’ve been a loyal assistant to this organization for a decade. Did everything you asked of me. Everything.”

“And it was appreciated,” Faber said coolly. “By the old order, for sure. But probably not the new.”

Gardner frowned. “What do you mean…the new? Is someone replacing Carson?”

The taller man just looked down his very long nose. “You didn’t know?”

It was a joke, of course. Gardner wouldn’t have known. He wasn’t a member, despite the fact that he had tried for years to become an exception to the rule of Ivy League initiation. He was so close, before de Vries showed up.

He hated being made to look like a fool. These people always looked at him like he was clueless, and it fucking infuriated him.

Faber chuckled toward his guard, who grinned back.

“Jesus Christ.” He shook his head. “Once, you almost had me, you know. You were almost like one of us. But Jude really didn’t tell you anything, did he?”

“Tell me what?” Gardner gritted through his teeth. It hurt. He probably had a cavity in one of his molars.

“Eric de Vries is going to be voted in as caesar,” Faber stated plainly. “It’ll take place after the new year. And if I were you, I’d get out of town. Out of the country, if you can. Even if de Vries doesn’t do you in, it’s completely possible someone else will out of fealty. There are plenty who’ll be eager to prove their loyalty to the new man in charge. Especially considering how he’s coming to power.”

“What—what do you mean?” Gardner asked, a prickle traveling up his spine like a spider.

“What do you mean, ‘what do you mean?’” Faber replied lazily. “It’s his birthright. What did you think was going to happen?”

“I—what? Birthright? I thought that Janus was democratic. What is this, a coup?”

Faber laughed, an all-out guffaw that echoed around the tiny room. “Good God, Letour really kept you in the dark.” Faber studied his nails, like he wasn’t sure whether he should tell him much either. He almost seemed to be enjoying the other man’s obvious ignorance.

Gardner’s eyes narrowed. He wouldn’t beg. He would not.

“De Vries didn’t stage a coup,” Faber said almost lazily. “Carson did. And he was successful for the last twenty-odd years or so. But before him, Eric’s father was the caesar. And his father before that. And so on, since the beginning of the society itself.” He shrugged again. “Now the prince shot the usurper dead. Dethroned the fraud. What’s the saying? ‘The king is dead. Long live the king.’”

The prickle turned into an all-out icicle. Gardner felt as though he couldn’t breathe. Oh God. Oh fucking God. Eric de Vries was now the head of the most powerful underground organization in the country? Janus, through its previous leader, had essentially sponsored nearly all of Gardner’s illegal activities for the past ten years. It had all been in exchange for the promise of membership—what Gardner had desired more than anything in the world. To be truly special. Elite.

And now…those dreams were slipping away along with his company, his marriage, everything he had claimed as his over the past ten years.

“He wouldn’t,” Gardner argued. “There’s no way Eric will accept the position. Jude said he was done with it.”

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