Conclave (Devil's Night, #3.5)

by Penelope Douglas

Cutting my trip short to race home, because she decides to ignore my calls and do little pirouettes all over my peace of mind? What the fuck? I knew I should’ve been single.

“If you ever insult my wife again,” I tell him, “I’ll take my son fishing using your eyeballs as bait.” “Yes, sir.”

I grin, hoping she can hear it in my voice, because I’m losing my fucking patience. “Your sister came when she was called,” I taunt. And that is it. Winter’s icy façade suddenly cracks. Her eyes go wide and then quickly morphs into a glare as she shoots out both hands and shoves water at me. I dive in and grab her as she’s distracted, throwing her over my shoulder. “Such a troublesome girl,” I scold, slapping her ass. “Why couldn’t I like the easy one? But no, I wanted this one.”

“Decent men don’t do this,” I tell her. “But that’s why I wanted this one. She’s a devil, just like me.”

“I love you,” I say. She doesn’t respond, and I’m too weak to keep up the pretense. “Okay, okay,” I admit. “Yeah, I may have threatened your choreographer with…” I search for words that won’t piss her off, “removal of certain limbs. I don’t like him putting his hands there. I put my hands there.” He doesn’t need to hold her that far up her inner thigh, for Christ’s sake, I don’t care what the lift is called or if he’s gay. Just no.

“The only one who can bring Ivar Torrance’s father to his knees is Ivar’s mother.”

I rub her nose with mine. “Forgive me?” She lets out a sigh but then slowly nods. I smile, relieved. “Talk to me, then?” But then she shakes her head. I growl and push back, letting her go. “Then, if that’s not it, what the hell did I do?” I slap the water. “Goddammit!” She stands up, replying flatly, “You won the bet.” And then she turns around, finding the edge of the pool and hops out. The bet… It only takes a moment for the light to dawn, and I realize what she’s talking about. The bet. My chest swells, and a smile spreads across my face as I dive for the edge of the pool, catching up with her. “And you let me fuck you like that?”

So, we made a bet. She would get pregnant if I could get her pregnant. While she was on birth control. I knew I was Superman.

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.”

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.

“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.

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.

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.

“Misha,” she grits out, staring down at him. “We’re having a conclave in one month. You just got yourself invited.” And she stalks off, setting the glass pitcher down on the island. Misha sits up, flipping me the finger. “Prick.” I push myself to my feet. “Babysoft.” Sea is a great place to bury bodies, you know? Deep breath, asshole.

“Mmmm.” She shifts under me and yawns. “You can’t come at me with your seven-hundred-dollar perfume and expect me to keep this platonic, Rika. It’s devastating.”

I know I shouldn’t seek refuge in her as much as I do, but there’s so much going on, she seems to be the only one who realizes that I’m… Weak. When it comes down to it, I still feel like a kid playing at all of this.

“I need Will back, Rika,” she whispers. I lift my head, resting my chin on her chest and seeing her eyes glisten. She purses her lips to keep her emotions in check, but eventually, she explains, “I love you and Banks and Winter and the guys, but…Will gets it.”

I pause there, aggravated she’s changing the subject and putting up that façade again, but she holds me, dressed in her tank and underwear, and swings a long, naked leg over me. I let out a quiet laugh. Hiding behind playfulness. Will does that, too. I start to rub her head, but then the cabin door opens, and we both look over, seeing Banks standing in the doorway. She stops dead, her eyebrows nearly reaching her hairline as she catches us in our little, cuddly embrace. Her mouth forms an O, and she starts to back out, closing the door. “Get in here,” I call out. “We’re not doing anything.” For crying out loud. She stops, a half-smile curling her lips and she comes back in, closing the door behind her. “And get that constipated look off your face,” Alex says. Banks heads over to the bed, dressed in some workout clothes, same as me, but her hair is down. “Brat,” she spits out. Laying at my side, she joins me in giving Alex a scalp massage, except Banks’ massage looks more like how you rub a dog’s head, curling her fingers and lightly scratching. “Stop that,” Alex barks at her. “I hate you.” Banks and I both start to laugh. She has like fifty-eight dogs—okay, not that many, but a lot—so petting probably comes naturally to her.

Alex lifts up her head, and I stop rubbing her. “So…” She looks at Banks. “You and Kai.” And then to me. “You and Michael. And Damon and Winter, and…” “Misha and Ryen,” I offer. They’ll be here, because Misha is Will’s cousin, so we have business he wants to be involved in. “Misha and Ryen,” she repeats absently. “And what am I supposed to do while everyone else takes ‘breaks’ tonight?” She put “breaks” in air quotes as if she won’t get any hot, little downtime, too. Oh, who will she find to play with? “There’s a full crew,” I assure her. Her eyes go wide. “And David and Lev will be boarding with Damon,” Banks adds. She gasps and then her face scrunches up into a delighted squeal. “It’s like Christmas and my birthday together.”

“You know…” I approach him. He lifts his head, listening. But I don’t continue. I take a breath, let out a sigh, and…shoot out, shoving him hard in the chest. His eyes go big, he flails, and the next thing I know, he’s lost his footing and tips over the side of the yacht. “Shit! Fuck!” rings out as he plummets. His body hits the water ten feet down, a big splash as he disappears under the surface. I stare down and pop another cold cut into my mouth, chewing. Did he land on his shoulder? How do you land on your frickin’ shoulder?

Michael gazes out at the night, his back to me. I drift slowly into the room as Misha, Ryen, and Alex walk past me, but I can’t take my eyes off him. My insides melt, and after all the years of wanting him and loving him, I’m still sixteen with a crush from afar. Loving someone so much it hurts.

Michael takes his seat and swipes his fingers across his phone, setting it in the middle of the table to record the minutes. “All right, considering our agenda, let’s first tackle the—” “I want to kill your father,” I say, cutting him off. Damon chokes on his vodka rocks.

“And I want to marry you,” he tells me. “Is this why you’re dragging your feet? My father?” I falter. One has nothing to do with the other. “That’s a private matter.” “You don’t talk even when we are in private. The only time things are good lately is when we’re fucking.” Damon shoves his chair back, making Banks and Ryen jump, and rises, scowling at Michael. But Michael is already on it, not bothering to get out of his seat as he glares up at Damon. “I was there when she was five and eight and thirteen, so you remember where you and she started the next time you want to imply you have any more responsibility or love for her than I do,” he bites out. “My woman. Sit down.”

But before they can chime in, I tell him, “I don’t resent you. I love you.” I am a little hurt by his lack of urgency, but I understand the position he’s in. “And I’ll die your wife or I’ll die no one’s.”

“But I killed her son, Rika. I can’t…kill her…” He falls silent, but he doesn’t need to finish the sentence. I know. Even if his father “quietly disappeared,” Michael wouldn’t lie to her. She’d find out, and she’d be hurt by him. She might even start to fear him. “I’ll do it,” Damon chimes in. Michael nods absently. “I know you will, but I’m not going to let you. You have things to live for now. Don’t put yourself at unnecessary risk.” He sighs, sitting back again. “We can’t slaughter every problem anyway.” No, we can’t. We’re not criminals, and I have to constantly remind myself of that. We don’t break laws for personal gain. We do it for fun.

Michael and I are locked, but neither of us says more, probably because we don’t know what to say. He either wants to yell and doesn’t want to do it here, or he wants to throttle me. “Al…right,” Kai stammers, and I know he’s glancing between Michael and me. “We’ll… come back to that, then.”

“Do you trust me?” he asks. I… I nod. “Then why would you ever think the idea of children with any other woman wouldn’t make me sick?” he whispers, and I can hear the pain in his voice. “We will have kids. If you want them. But I will never not have you.” He shakes me. “Do you understand?” A sob lodges in my throat. “Do you understand?” he growls again. “A world where there is no us can’t happen.”

“I can’t follow the rules,” he says, “and with you, I don’t have to. I’m not alone. I can’t go back to being alone.” He hovers over my lips, our mouths open and hungry. “I can’t fucking breathe without my little monster.”

Lev smiles at me, his eyes peeking out from under his black hair, and he rises, leaning over me. “At your service anytime, Miss Fane,” he whispers.

“I love you.” I pause and then add, because I can’t help myself, “Mr. Fane.” “Oh, Jesus, fuck,” he grumbles and sits up. “I need a drink.” Huh? I hold tighter, damn-near falling off as he tries to get up from the chair. “Off me, now,” he orders. “I need a drink, Rika. Many drinks.” I slide to the floor, the carpet scraping against my ass. I wince. “Hey.” He pops the cigar in this mouth, shaking his head, and storms for the door. Rika Crist just doesn’t sound right. He’s going to lose this one. “We only have a weeks’ supply of food on this boat!” I yell as he opens the door. “So, don’t wait too long to come to terms with this!”

“What’s going on?” “He’s crazy,” Bryce said. “He can’t work with people!” I laughed under my breath. I heard Kai sigh, because he was as much at his wits’ end as I was. Like, seriously. No one here could think for themselves. You had to tell them every little goddamn thing, and God help you if you had to give them more than one instruction at a time, because their brains would fucking short out because they couldn’t remember all that AND remember to breathe at the same time.

“He’s temperamental, but he’ll compromise,” Kai explained to Bryce. “We’ve been through this before.” “Compromise?” Bryce whined. “He threw an ax at my head!” “If I’d thrown it at your head, I would’ve hit your head,” I growled low. There was silence, and then I heard Bryce’s voice. “I’m outta here, man.”

I immediately spotted Banks sitting on some chairs, holding her and Kai’s son. Madden. Mads, for short. Mads Mori. Poor kid sounded like an assassin.

I was going to be such a screw up. I’d do so many things wrong with her and this kid. “Six, seven, eight…” But fuck, I was going to love them. I didn’t care about being perfect. I just wanted to be everything my father wasn’t. I wanted this with her a million more times, and no matter all the shit that still lived inside me, I already knew I was better than him. “Nine, ten…” The doctor pulled back, Winter collapsed, and I heard a shrill cry fill the room. “It’s a boy!”

“What does he look like?” Winter whispered up at me, her voice raspy. I smoothed my hand over both their heads. “Like next year he’ll be running around in the fountains with us,” I told her. “He’s perfect, baby. Black hair, a little pissed off…” She snorted, and I thought about what he’d look like in a year when he was walking and running and laughing and playing. I wanted the noise. I wanted it all over the house. I wanted it filling our lives from here on out.

He opened his mouth to speak, but it took him a few moments to find his words. “Um, within a few months, I’d say,” he finally answered. “It was a healthy pregnancy. But she needs time to heal.” And then he said it again, slower and firmer, sounding like a warning. “You should give her time to heal.” The corner of my mouth tipped up, amused. Did he think I was a monster?

Like Banks—like Winter and me—Rika was unique. She was built for the wilds, and I wanted her in my family.

While driving, we think, even for just a moment, about jerking the steering wheel into oncoming traffic or leaping off the balcony of a ship and into the abyss of the black water below. They’re passing thoughts and little dares we allow our psyche, because we’re tired of not living and we want the fear. We want to remember why we want to live.

“That’s what binds us,” she told me. “Who?” “Our family.” Our family? “Kai, Banks, Michael, Rika, Will, Alex…” she went on. “You and me. We all hear it. L’appel du vide. The call of the void.”

“I like it,” I told her. She paused and then said, “I love you.” A pang hit my heart like it always did when she said that. Like I was falling for her all over again. I stood up and wrapped my arms around her, smoothing her hair back under the water. “You’re so beautiful,” I said. “Even though you gave me a son when I explicitly asked for a daughter.”