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CHAPTER FOURTEEN

JULIAN

M eetings. That was something I managed to avoid when Lucian and Adrian were alive. Yeah, my bastard father would call me into the office sometimes to either beat me or threaten something, but business meetings? Where Inferno Consortium members gather and talk about boring shit?

Fuck no. Adrian was always more suited for that than me.

I glance around the large conference table.

When Mom insisted I had to do this, I tried to have it at the penthouse so I wouldn’t have to leave and be too far away from her.

I argued with Mom that our living room is large enough for the main members to come over and talk about whatever stupid shit we have to go over. Mom looked like she wanted to faint.

“The living room?” she said, like no one in the world had ever thought of that.

“No. You must set an example. Your father maintained a certain image and proved he was a businessman as much as he was a leader. You must do the same. There are a few warehouses for this sort of thing with decent facilities. I’ll give you a list.”

So here I am, in some warehouse near the docks.

Surprisingly, it’s not run down. Someone fixed it up with expensive tile, couches, actual fucking plants in the corner like we’re at a Hilton conference room.

And the twenty or so people here, representing their families tonight, are all in luxury business attire. Even me.

My eyes snag on an empty seat—who was supposed to be here, yet decided to miss my first-ever meeting as the new leader?

Feels like a slap in the face, but I guess I can deal with it later.

I stifle a yawn as Francis DeMarco drones on about some fentanyl shipment that got stuck at the Mexican border into Arizona. He wants to figure out logistics for trying to get it through on a boat into the Seattle ports.

“I know you have a fleet,” Francis, looking like the type of prick who’d watch while someone assaulted kittens, says to the Castellano member.

The Castellano woman—whose name I’m blanking on—purses her red lips and shrugs. “Our fleet is busy with our own business. If we give you a boat, how will you make it worth our while?”

Francis tries to offer money after he secures his shipment and moves the product, but she doesn’t seem to need that.

While they go back and forth in negotiation, I know I should be paying more attention or help them come to some agreement. I never sat in on these meetings, but I can imagine my father simply cutting in to offer a final solution. And whether they liked it or not, no one would protest.

That’s the kind of feared and respected man he was. I can admire that, as much as I hated him for everything else.

Me? I can’t think of a fucking solution. I’m still learning the logistics, the business, the goddamn names . Mom knows everything, but I couldn’t invite her here tonight to help or I’d look weak.

Hell, I think I am weak.

I should care. I should be calculating losses, planning moves that increase cash flow and strengthen the Consortium, show these vultures I’m every bit the leader my father was.

But my mind is blank.

Well, not completely.

All I can think about is that fucking door. Adrian’s door.

Just… opening on its own last week before the Harvest of Wealth festival.

The security footage plays on a loop in my mind: empty hallway, sleeping Aurelia, and that door—that goddamn door just swinging open like someone invisible pushed it. No one entered the corridor. No one tinkered with the locks. It just… released.

My mother insists it was a mechanical failure. “These electronic locks are unreliable,” she said, kissing my forehead like I was still a child. “Don’t worry yourself over nothing. This is why we have guards. ”

Valentine also agreed. Too quickly. “I’ll have new locks installed,” he promised. “Better ones. Military grade. It was just a system failure.”

But why that door? Why Aurelia’s door? Why that night?

“It’s two million in product,” Francis nearly yells at the Castellano woman. “If your boat gets damaged, which it won’t , I can buy you a new one. But I need my shipment first.”

I nod like I’m listening. Their negotiation doesn’t seem to be going well, but it’s a distant roar in my ears.

That door.

Just a system failure. That’s the rational explanation because I don’t believe in ghosts. Don’t believe Adrian somehow reached beyond the grave to set her free, but…

I’ve been having nightmares about it. In my dreams, it’s Adrian who opens it. Adrian’s ghost, face still splattered with his own blood, eyes vacant as he reaches for the handle.

“Your turn to suffer,” he whispers, fingers wrapping around my throat. “How could you trap her? That’s not what either of us wanted. Remember? You used to want to keep her safe.”

I always wake up gasping, sheets soaked with sweat, the phantom pressure of his hands still crushing my windpipe.

“Julian?”

I blink, realizing Lorenzo’s staring at me from across the polished mahogany table. So are the others. Waiting.

“I said, what’s your decision?” Lorenzo repeats.

What the fuck? I don’t need him to mediate .

“Sorry, is this your business?” I shoot back at him.

He looks away, shutting his goddamn mouth.

“I need a boat,” Francis says to me.

“I know.” I was listening to that much at least.

“And—”

“I know!” I snap at him. “Will the two of you shut up for a fucking second so I can think?”

The members all exchange glances, probably thinking about how my father would have this matter resolved by now.

I glance down at the table. I can do this. I just need to… give it some thought.

The DeMarco’s main business is drugs. The Consortium gets a percentage of profit from all member’s businesses in exchange for being members, which comes with a lot of perks.

The main benefits are power and support.

Yeah, everyone loves the parties and lifestyle, but when shit goes down, they have immediate allies in other members to save their asses.

The Castellano’s primary business is human trafficking. And?—

I remember something my mother shared with me.

Since I don’t know that woman’s name, I just look at her and start talking. “Wasn’t someone in your family recently picked up by the Feds for child porn? Sergio?”

The woman pales. “No! Not Sergio. Sergio is not like that. But… yes. A different cousin.” She glances around the table with a frown, probably upset I aired her family’s dirty laundry.

I glance at Olivia Marlowe, whose perfume stench has been bugging me this entire time. “Use your connections to get her cousin out.” I turn to Castellano. “In exchange, give Francis a boat.” Finally, I look at Francis. “Will you shut up now?”

The rest of the members laugh while Francis gives me a hard frown. He nods.

“What do I get?” Olivia asks. “My family is still pissed off at yours for taking Victoria from us. She was my sister. Unless you’ve forgotten.”

My temples throb. This bitch.

I slam my hand on the table. “There’s no proof we killed Victoria, and yet your family retaliated by killing my father. ”

“We have proof.”

“What is it?”

“Footage.”

I want to laugh. Considering I know Aurelia killed Victoria, I know this bitch is lying.

My mother’s words drift through my head, “You must show them the strong leader you are. They must fear you.”

I’m starting to see, more and more, how she’s right. They must fear me or challenges like this will just keep happening.

Slowly, I stand from my seat and walk around the table to Olivia. She looks up at me coolly, as if she has the upper hand and doesn’t fear me at all.

Guess I’ll have to show her.

I have quick movements thanks to all my fighting at The Den, so I grab her hair and slam her forehead down into the table. It happens in less than a second and the other members gasp around me.

Olivia cries out, blood tricking from the split skin above her eyes. I yank her head back so I can talk in her ear.

“I’ll say this one more time—my family had nothing to do with your sister’s murder. Yet, you sent Theodore to kill my father, the leader of the Consortium, without a single drop of proof. You’re lucky we haven’t burned your entire family to the ground. So, are you going to behave?”

She whimpers in pain and nods.

“Good girl. Because this feud ends now. Moving forward, you’re going to do everything you’re told—whatever I tell you—until I decide to forgive you. Got it?”

She whimpers again and I release her hair.

Dusting my suit jacket, I return to my seat. When I gaze around the table, I see different eyes looking back this time. Fearful eyes.

All of them except Lorenzo’s. He’s smiling.

“The children must be shown how to behave,” I remember Lucian once telling Adrian.

For the first time, I understand what he meant.

“What else?” I ask, wanting to get this circus over with.

A man in a sharp red suit raises his hand like he’s in school. What’s his name? Fuck, I can’t remember. “Uh,” he says, “Uh, my brother recently got arrested. Uh, DeSean. And, maybe?—”

“The Marlowes will get him out,” I say, glancing at Olivia.

She nods weakly as she wipes blood from her face.

The man in the red suit grins. “Thank you, Julian.”

A few other members speak up, also asking for the Marlowe’s to help with police and federal issues since they have such a strong influence on law enforcement. Olivia nods each time and glances at me nervously.

I smile. Maybe I actually did something right this time. But it’s not enough, is it?

I still think about my lack of response when Mom struck Aurelia.

I thought of doing something. Saying something. But this isn’t a black and white situation.

I couldn’t intervene, not when my mother is the only family I have left.

Not when she’s the only one guiding me through this fucking nightmare of leadership I never wanted—it was her intel about Castellano’s cousin being in jail that helped me settle these ‘children.’ She’s the only one helping me survive right now, so I couldn’t intervene and upset her.