Conclave (Devil's Night 3.5) Read online

  She smiles. “Really?”

  “You want a motorcycle; you get a motorcycle.”

  Her face lights up with her beautiful, excited smile, and it’s the best thing I’ve ever seen. I can’t wait to take her out in the middle of the night on the empty roads.

  After the baby comes, of course.

  “I love you,” she finally says back.

  “Good.”

  I let her down, and we both walk to the pool house, grabbing towels laid out under the awning.

  “And in all fairness, I wasn’t trying to cut your trip short,” she explains. “I’m sorry. I was just making you mad enough that you’d hunt me down when you got home.”

  A mischievous smile spreads over her face.

  Honestly, I don’t even care anymore. Michael and Kai can handle the meetings, and I love the angst in the games Winter and I play. When we’re in bed—or the pool—it never feels like we left high school. We’re perpetually two horny teenagers, and I feel alive in my life every day.

  I wrap a towel around my waist. “Has he been good?”

  “Yeah.” She nods. “The nanny wanted to give him a sliver of chocolate to see his reaction, but I told her we needed to wait for you.”

  Hell yes. First chocolate? That’s big.

  Winter was timid about having a nanny at first, guilty that she couldn’t do everything herself, but it’s been good. It gives us a little more time alone here and there, too.

  She covers herself, and I take her hand. “Come on. I wanna see him.”

  I know he’s asleep, but it’s been a week.

  But she digs in her heels, stopping us. “He’s, um…”

  I look at her, my nerves instantly firing. “What?”

  “He’s, um…” She swallows. “Not here.”

  Excuse me?

  “He’s not here?” I repeat. “He’s twelve months old, Winter. Where is he?”

  She shifts on her feet. “Rika wanted him for the night.”

  “Rika…” I say. “And she took him to Meridian City?”

  Winter turns her head away, telling me all I need to know.

  I nod and grab her hand, leading her back to the house. “Of course not.”

  Minutes later, we’re in the car and racing down the road, heading for the Fane house. I can’t believe they’d do this while I was away. If I hadn’t come back tonight, would I ever have known?

  Winter sits up, dressed in jeans and a navy-blue sweater, her wet hair combed and in a tight ponytail as she faces my direction. “Don’t be mad at me.”

  “You know how I feel about this,” I tell her, grinding the wheel in my fist. “There’s no one else on my side. Not even Nik. You need to stand by me on this.”

  “I am,” she rushes out. “I just…I don’t know.” A look of guilt crosses her face. “I guess I felt sorry for her. Rika said she’d be there every minute. I wouldn’t put him in danger, Damon.”

  His “grandmother” is danger.

  I want to be angry with Winter. She, above anyone else, should stand by me. She knows why I don’t want Ivarsen around Christiane, and it’s for good fucking reason.

  But it’s not like I don’t go behind her back to educate her choreographer from time to time or see to it that her old pal Ethan suddenly lost his interest in photography.

  But this is our son, dammit. They don’t get to make decisions about him without me. Rika has no business sticking her nose in this.

  “You know she can’t prove herself if you don’t give her a chance,” Winter points out.

  “She had a chance.”

  After a short pause, Winter adds, “Yeah, so did we.” Her voice is somber as we both stare out the windshield. “Thank goodness we gave each other another one.”

  I storm through the dark house, holding Winter’s hand, and spot Rika standing outside the library, looking through the windows in the closed doors. A couple of other people stand next to her, and I charge over, the sight of Christiane holding a sleeping Ivar in her arms as she sits in a chair coming into view beyond the glass. A man is in the room with her, reading quietly on the sofa as she rocks my kid.

  I reach out and grab the handle, but Rika twists around and steps in front of me, covering my hand with hers.

  “Move,” I order her.

  “She’s not hurting him.”

  “That’s right. She won’t.”

  “Damon, calm down,” the guy next to her says.

  I look over, seeing Will’s cousin, Misha.

  I glare at him. “Eat my dick.”

  Winter groans at my side, and some chick with Misha comments, “Oh, so this is Damon.”

  But I turn my anger back on Rika.

  She stares up at me, holding my stare. “Misha?” she says. “Will you give us a second?”

  Yes, please. Piss off.

  Winter slides out of my hand. “Misha, can you show me the sun room?” she asks him and then to us, “I’ll let you two have at it. Sorry, Rika.”

  “Sorry for putting you in the middle, Winter,” Rika tells her.

  They leave, and I try to push past her, my eyes darting from her to Ivar.

  “That kid doesn’t absolve you.” Rika inches in front of me again, trying to catch my eyes. “He doesn’t make your past go way or make you better than her.”

  I get in her face, gritting out. “Move.”

  But she doesn’t. “You tied me to a bed,” she says. “Kissed me. Bit me. Even as I cried.”

  The memory of all the times I tried to hurt her—did hurt her—rushes at me, but I push them away.

  “Wanted to share me with your friends,” she goes on. “Wanted me to yourself for a little while, too, remember that?”

  My stomach knots. What the hell?

  “Your little sister…” she taunts.

  I grab her arm and pull her away from the doors, shoving her into the wall. “You shut up about that shit,” I whisper, seething down at her. “I never want to hear about it again.”

  “You threw me on the ground and tried to take off my clothes…”

  I rear back, running my hand through my hair. What the fuck? I thought we were okay. Why is she doing this?

  “I didn’t want you,” she continues to fucking talk, “but you forced your mouth on me anyway.”

  Taking her by the wrist, I pull her into the kitchen, her bare feet stumbling across the hardwood floors. I force her into the wall and glare down at her.

  “I would never have done anything,” I growl, no longer keeping my shit to a whisper. “I would never have hurt you!”

  “I know.”

  She answers so quickly and so easily that I hesitate, because I expected her to argue.

  She knows. She knew.

  Well, at least there’s that. But still… She can’t compare Christiane to me. We’re not the same. Yes, I made enough mistakes to last a lifetime, but I’m not a bad parent, and that’s just about the worst thing you can be.

  And she was bad for twenty-three consecutive years. Not only did she completely abandon her child, but she put me in the hands of people who were evil.

  I made my mistakes when I was young. When I was angry. When I was…alone.

  I’m not those things anymore.

  What does Christiane have to say for herself, huh?

  “And I know you never will hurt me,” Rika tells me, her eyes soft and glistening. “I trust you. So, trust me.”

  I narrow my eyes, part of me wanting to give her what she wants. It’s only fair, and I want to trust her.

  But she’s too good at getting what she wants out of me. Of sacrificing her queen to get my king.

  We stare at each other, her words hanging in the air, but then I hear a ringing, and she raises her fingers to her ear, tapping on her earpiece.

  “Erika Fane,” she answers the phone, holding my eyes. “Charles, so nice to hear from you.”

  A glint hits her eyes, and I stand up straight, but she stays glued to the wall, watching me as she talks.


  “Yes, my assistant sent the itinerary. I can’t wait.” She smiles.

  I slowly release the knots in my stomach, calming my breathing as I wait for her.

  Charles…itinerary… She’s been busy, trying to finish her degree and mayor the town. It’s impressive, though. Putting her into position was one of the better ideas I’ve ever had.

  “Oh, rest assured our future alumni are in good hands,” she tells whoever she’s talking to. “I’ll be there early.” She laughs as I hear a male voice on the other end. “Oh, yeah, you know me. Overprepared every time.”

  I watch her, graceful and well-spoken. A true player.

  “No, Michael is in London,” she tells him. “But keep his seat open.” She eyes me. “I might still be escorted.”

  I almost snort. As in moi?

  Bitch just took my king. She knows I want this. Escorting her to a function in Thunder Bay. Making a public appearance at a respectable event. Having my wife, my kids, and my sisters around me as I slowly build my family and our world, so that when my kid—my children—are old enough to remember, they won’t know it was any other way.

  She does trust me. God, I don’t know why, but…she did let me go when she could’ve turned me in. And then she rescued me and bled for me and fought with me…

  “I know what you do to parents who hurt you,” she finally says, returning to our discussion. “Do you really think I’d put her in your path if I weren’t sure?”

  My mouth curls a little, amused. “You scared of me?”

  “Oh, lots.” She nods exaggeratedly.

  I laugh and turn around, relaxing a little as I walk to the sink and fill up a glass of water.

  I gulp down all of it as she pulls some things out from the refrigerator.

  She pulls her hair up into a bun and takes out a slice of bread, scooping some tuna onto the slice.

  A hunger pang hits at the smell, and I realize all I had to eat today was that half sandwich a half hour ago. Coming to stand at her side, I take a slice out, too, and scoop some tuna salad onto the bread.

  “Charles,” I repeat the name of whom she was just talking to. “Kincaid?”

  As in our old dean, who’s still dean of Thunder Bay Prep and helped Winter’s father take me down the morning I was arrested?

  Rika smiles to herself, and I look down to see her take her single slice filled with tuna and fold it in half, peeling off the top crust. I falter, glancing down at my sandwich, which is already folded the same way. Huh.

  “I’m giving the orientation speech tomorrow for the incoming seniors,” she explains, taking a bite.

  “And Michael and Kai are in London,” I add, “trying to wrangle that architect.”

  I was there, too, until Winter decided to be funny.

  So Rika had no one to escort her, except me.

  She trails around the island, sitting down on a stool.

  She props her elbows up on the counter. “I mean, you don’t have to escort me,” she explains. “I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself. And the Andersons will be there, not to mention Kincaid still hates you, so...”

  Is she trying to get me excited?

  “You just might steal the show.” She feigns a sigh, sounding forlorn. “And I know how you like to keep a low profile.”

  I chuckle, peeling off my crust. She’s as good as Winter at playing me, but I can’t say I don’t enjoy it.

  But…I also know she wants a show of trust, too.

  I don’t want Ivarsen around Rika’s mother. But I’m not entirely sure it’s because I don’t trust her.

  Maybe I want to punish her. Maybe I’m jealous that he gets to have what I didn’t.

  I stare down at the sandwich I can no longer eat, my stomach churning and the hint of bile in my throat.

  If I want Rika, and I want my kids to have her, there’s no getting around Christiane. I don’t want to have to explain to them why they can’t see her or why they can’t come here.

  Fucking fine.

  “He can stay the night,” I tell her, “and we’ll see how it goes.”

  She’s silent, but I can see her looking at me out of the corner of my eye. “Anything beyond that goes through me.” I look over at her. “You understand?”

  She nods.

  And if Christiane disappoints me, she will meet her maker before she ever meets another kid of mine.

  I toss the sandwich down on the counter, filling up another glass of water. I have to get this taste out of my mouth.

  “Winter’s pregnant again, isn’t she?” Rika asks, taking another bite.

  “How did you know?”

  She shrugs. “She’s been tired. Nauseous.”

  Well, that explains why she took the cameras offline then. She didn’t want me to see.

  Rika leans on the counter, her eyes downcast as she plays with the rest of her sandwich. Her throat moves up and down as she swallows and then her jaw flexes like she’s deep in thought.

  I take a drink and then dump out the rest of the water. “What?”

  She darts her eyes up. “Nothing.”

  But she’s not convincing. She’s thinking something.

  “What?” I grit out again.

  But she fires back. “Nothing.”

  Her gaze falls to her sandwich again, and I decide to leave it. She knows how to solve her problems.

  Which reminds me…

  “While we’re on the subject, I want you married before you have his child.”

  She laughs at me. “You want?”

  I nod. “Kai married Banks in a day. What’s taking so long?”

  It was a little different when she was just my friend’s girlfriend, but things have changed.

  “You’re not married to Winter yet, either.”

  “Winter and I are waiting for Will to come home,” I point out.

  “Yeah, me, too,” she quickly replies, as if latching onto the first viable excuse I was stupid enough to give her.

  But that’s not it. I know it’s not it. They’ve been engaged for a while, and Will only left town about a year ago. At first, I thought it was Michael. His schedule, his obligations, etc.

  I’m not sure it’s his fault anymore, though. What’s going on with her?

  I watch her play with her bread, remembering the first time we were alone in a kitchen together. I had to be fifteen. She saw me, stopped breathing, and left as quickly as possible.

  Now she rarely makes a move without my knowledge or input.

  “You know what a papal conclave is?” I ask.

  She shakes her head a little. “Um, kind of, I guess.”

  I slide my hands into my pockets and lean against the fridge. “When it’s time to elect a new pope, every cardinal in the college of cardinals under the age of eighty is locked in a room until they can come to an agreement on who the new pope will be,” I explain. “They started doing this, because eight-hundred years ago, it took three years to choose a new pope due to political infighting. People don’t solve problems if they’re not forced to face them, you know? Now, the cardinals are led into the Sistine Chapel, there’s a shout of ‘extra omnes’ meaning ‘everyone out’, and the doors are chained shut, locking them in until they solve the problem.”

  We might not make the best decisions under pressure, but you can’t make a decision at all when you’re not talking about it.

  She sits there, the wheels in her head turning. “Conclave,” she murmurs to herself.

  “It’s a good idea when you’ve got things to settle, you know?”

  We have weddings to plan. Projects that can’t stall, because her fiancé is always out of town. Winter wants to start some humanitarian organization, and I know Kai’s family has connections abroad who can help.

  Not to mention Banks. We need everything nicely set up for my plans for her, and it’s past time to get started. I’ll need help getting her on board.

  And keeping Kai out of my way about it.

  And, of course, there’s Will.


  “Pithom,” she says.

  I meet her eyes, a smile spreading across my lips. Michael’s family’s yacht. Not a bad location. No need for locked doors, because there’s no escape at sea.

  I nod.

  Someone enters the room, and I look up to see Misha walk in, Winter holding onto the other girl’s arm.

  “I need to talk to you,” he says to Rika.

  She slides off the stool. “Right,” she says, like they had a conversation I interrupted when I showed up. “I’m sorry.”

  I take Winter’s hand and guide her over to me, locking eyes for a moment with the chick who brought her in.

  “Who is she?” I ask.

  But Misha takes the woman’s arm and slides her behind him, out of my view.

  I snort. “I just wanted to say hi,” I tease. “I mean, we’ll all run into each other a lot. She may as well get to know me.”

  If his dad is dating Rika’s mother, and they possibly get married, we’ll all have to get really friendly.

  Winter chimes in. “His bite is worse than his bark, but he only bites me,” she assures the new kids. “Don’t worry.” And then she arches up on her toes to kiss my jaw. “Get along, please.”

  Misha’s snotty little glare rests on me, because he wouldn’t know a good time if it sat on his face. The girl is cute, though.

  He finally turns his eyes to Rika. “When was the last time you heard from Will?”

  My stomach coils at the mention. Will is rarely in touch these days, but he is adamant that he needs to do what he needs to do. I left him once, after all. If he could wait me out, I can do the same for him.

  “He texts,” Rika answers.

  “He texts you?”

  “Well, his parents,” Rika replies. “They say he’s on a retreat. Doing humanitarian stuff in Asia.”

  Misha shakes his head. “They’re lying.”

  “How do you know?” I chime in.

  “Because I know them,” he shoots back. “His mother nods a lot when she’s saying things that aren’t true.”

  Rika looks at me. “Rehab?”

  Possibly. They could be getting him sober and keeping it quiet.

  But it’s Misha who responds. “They would tell us, because they know Will would anyway once he got out.”