Page 10

Having never sacrificed anything to The Society for my initiation, I’m always intrigued by the lengths others go to just for the protection it guarantees.

“Sacrifice?”

Vic pauses for a breath before revealing, “His sister’s virginity.”

Lips lifted in disgust, I shake my head. We’d always heard about Marcellus’ golden child, Delilah, but few had ever seen her. He kept her hidden away in that house. Even when guests visited, she was nowhere in sight. There was a running joke about her being a basement dweller.

His fuck ass son on the other hand…Weston was just like his father and somehow worse.

In less than two generations, the Rose family had managed to fall from the rank of the most respectedmembers of The Society to outcasts. A mountain of debt and broken promises followed their name around the city.

Everybody in Wildwood knows to keep their distance if the last name Rose was involved.

It had gotten so bad in the last five years that their reputation as fucking frauds preceded them, overshadowing the beauty empire Marcellus built in the 90s and early 2000s.

“Is the girl even old enough?”

“She’s twenty-six, sir.”

“Fuck, I thought she was twelve or something.” The way Marcellus shielded her had everything to do with that. Why was she still living at home with him when he died if she was grown?

“Sir?” Vic repeats, trying to get my attention. My mouth pulls back in a subtle grimace at the honorific. Every time I remind Victor he’s ten years older than me and that he can call me Adonis, he gives me a nod, muttering, “Right, sir.”

I gave up correcting him a year ago. So here the fuck we are.

“Have you contacted Alonzo?” I want to know, spinning my chair away from my desk before I can get settled.

“No, sir. I was waiting for your go ahe?—”

“Don’t call him, I’ll go take care of it myself.”

I’m out of my chair and back at the door of my office before he can blink. Victor scrambles to keep up with me down the hall, something I never see him do. Vic doesn’t hurry; the rest of the world simply slows down for him. “Sir, I don’t think?—”

“He owes me a million dollars. And has for over a year.” I don’t say more than that.

Tugging at the knot of his tie, he gives me an understanding nod. “I know, Mr. Samson. I just don’t think it’s agood idea for you to approach him alone. He’s clearly desperate and desperate people do fucked up things.”

“Then it’s a good thing you’re coming with me.”

I’d donea lot in my life to avoid ending up like my father and grandfather. I love them to death, but I wanted to be known as more than an enforcer. For more than the violence I could wield when somebody had me fucked up.

It worked. To a certain extent. I’ll never deny that it’s because of the foundation they’d laid decades ago that I’m able to live a normal life today. Samson Air takes up ninety percent of my time. But that other ten percent?—

“Your devices, Mr. Samson?”

The man in front of me looks at me expectantly before I ignore his request and walk past him, deeper into the mansion with my phones still tucked into my pocket.

I feel Victor beside me as we passed the painting I’ve seen too many times. A black jaguar with the stem of a single rose ensnared in its teeth. Blood weeps from the corner of its mouth while a ferocious glint darkens its gaze. As many times as I’ve seen it, it still has a hypnotizing effect on me.

“Where’s Weston?” I ask, breaking the trance.

“He was last seen upstairs. Would you like me to?—”

I don’t hear what he says next because a woman in a white dress breezes by me, her face drawn in concentration.

She passes me in the blink of an eye, but I’d recognize that earthy, fruity scent anywhere.

She smells like strawberries and there’s something about her stride that captures all my attention. There’s a surety in her steps that isn’t reflectedon her face.