by Violet Paige
She was a strong woman. She always had been. I wasn’t sure I could trust that she was faltering now. But maybe death had affected her.
The first wave of guests entered the room, stopping in front of my mother before making their way down the line. Seraphina was at the end on the other side of Brandon. She refused to sit in a chair, no matter how many times Brandon tried to get one for her. It was still strange to see my sister six-months pregnant.
I hadn’t had much time to talk to anyone, including her. I wanted to know how things were going with her husband. I wanted to know if our mother was putting up a charade or, was she actually crumbling? Who signed off on Paul’s arrangements at this fucking funeral dive?
My flight from Paris landed with only enough time to drive to the funeral home before visitation began. I had changed suits in the men’s room. I couldn’t greet mourners wrinkled from airplane clothes.
Paul walked up behind me. “I’ve set up a meeting for you at the compound after tonight’s event.” His voice was quiet so the other couldn’t hear.
I nodded.
I knew it had to be done quickly. Raphael Corban no longer walked this earth. Someone had to make sure that everything he had built wasn’t eviscerated in a matter of days. And that was exactly what would happen if we didn’t act swiftly to transfer the power from his hand to mine.
“I will wait for you at the compound, sir.”
He disappeared and left me to face a crowd of people I hadn’t seen in years. Each one made up a kind story about my father. A funny tale. A classic Raphael memory. We shook hands. Some of the women hugged me and began to cry when they slid over to my mother.
I was relieved when I saw Parker Bastion. He slapped me on the back. “God, so sorry about your dad.”
“Thanks. It’s good to see you. Thanks for coming.”
“I would have brought Chelsea, but she’s home with the kids, you know. We didn’t think we should bring them to this.”
“Right. Two kids. That’s good. Good for you, man.”
Parker rubbed the side of his face. “She won’t care if I stay out tonight. It is a funeral after all. Want to grab drinks? I’m buying.” He smiled. “You still drink that bourbon, or have you moved on to French drinks?”
I didn’t know if it was a quick kick of jetlag taking over, or if it was the foul smell of the lilies. I felt my stomach turn. I had to get out of this fucking line. I didn’t want to small talk. I didn’t want to pretend Raphael had one ounce of good in him. The lies invaded every corner of this room.
“Tomorrow night?” I asked, skirting away. “I have a meeting when I’m done here.” I took a giant step away from the group. “We’ll catch up then.”
“Sure, sure,” he answered, sounding confused.
My mother had already pulled Parker into a tight hug. I ducked out the side door and looked upward, trying to breathe in deep gulps of air. Thank God there was an escape out of that room. The humidity would take a while to adjust to again. This was nothing like Paris. I’d been home all of three hours and I already missed the crisp air. Being in New Orleans wasn’t supposed to get to me, but it did.
The door cracked. I heard the murmur of people talking. Coffee cups clanking on saucers. I didn’t want to know who the footsteps belonged to and then I realized it was Seraphina. I smiled.
“Hey, what are you doing out here?” She wandered over.
I exhaled. “Getting some air.” I draped an arm around her shoulder. “How are you doing?”
She shrugged. “Funerals suck. Daddy’s seems to really suck.” Her hand rested on her belly. My little sister was about to be a mom. That made me an unprepared uncle.
“I can’t imagine if he were here, he’d be happy about it. Where’s the champagne? Cigars? Expensive scotch?”
She laughed. “It does seem really cheap, doesn’t it?”
“I’m glad I’m not the one who planned it.” Although, he wasn’t here to fire the staff. He wasn’t here to yell and boil over until he broke fine crystal. He wasn’t here to tell me I’d fucked it up.
“Paul was just trying to take care of things for Mom, but he’s used to taking instructions from Daddy.” Her eyes turned upward. “It’s nice out here. Those people,” she groaned.
“I know. How are you doing? Need a chair?” I teased.
She rolled her eyes. “Brandon won’t let me ride. He told the stables to stop saddling for me. It’s awful. You have no idea.”
“I’m sorry. I’m sure the horses miss you too.”
“Maybe you could go with me? I’ll show you who I’ve added to the stables. I have an incredible stallion right now.”
It was hard to tell her no when she was this excited. “Yeah. Let’s go out there this week.”
“Have you thought about what you’re going to do?”
“About what exactly? There’s a lot at stake right now.”
“The will,” she whispered it like it was a dirty word.
“Paul and I have a meeting tonight.”
“What happens to Paris?” she asked.
“I don’t know yet.”
“Someone has to take over the vineyard operations.”
“Since when did you care about our vineyards in France?”
I saw the way she pinched her lips together. There was something she wanted to say. Something she wanted to ask. I knew my sister better than anyone.
“What is it?” I prodded.
“It’s just…” Her eyes darted to her belly. “Paris…if you need someone…”
The door to the funeral home flew open and a man in a brown suit hurried toward us. I groaned.
“Mr. Corban?”
“Yes?”
“I need your signature on a few items,” he explained.
“Our family attorney is handling everything.”
“I can’t find him.”
Paul had left to prepare for our meeting. I looked at Seraphina. “We’ll continue this later, okay?” I walked inside with the funeral manager. I stood in his dusty office for thirty minutes, signing approvals for the services already performed. I tossed the pen on the desk when I was finished.
“Thank you so much, Mr. Corban. I’m sorry I had to ask you at this time. I’m sure your grief is unbearable. Your father was a great man. A great man to everyone in the city.”
I mumbled
I left his office, ready to drive to the compound. The sooner Paul and I could began extracting the paperwork for my father’s estate, the sooner I’d be able to take control.
I walked past the receiving room. The staff was clearing out the coffee and the cake. Someone ran a vacuum over the faded oriental carpets.
“There you are.” My mother’s hand landed on my sleeve. “I’m going to take my own car back to the house. I’m going to lie down.”
I leaned to kiss her cheek. “Probably a good idea. Brandon and Seraphina are already gone?”
“Yes. He was concerned. He doesn’t want her on her feet.” My sister had never been fragile like crystal.
“I’ll be up late with Paul. I’ll see you at breakfast before the service.”
She began to leave but spun on her heels. “We will ride to the church together as a family. You understand?”
“Yes.” I slid my hands in my pockets.
“Good night, son.”
“Good night.”
The attendants continued to work around me. Once the vacuum stopped humming, I had to leave. I was the last one inside. I was struck by how quiet it was. Without the people crying. Without people scurrying to fetch coffee and more boxes of tissues. Somewhere in this building was my father’s body. Cold. Lifeless. Alone.
The rain started slowly at first. One giant splatter followed by another. I watched it splash on the sidewalk. One. Two. Three. Throwing water. Making small wakes. I knew I couldn’t observe time pass this way. The gutters began to fill, and the downpour began. I had to get to my meeting.
But the rain made my soul feel heavy. It made ev
erything feel darker and more desperate. My life in Paris seemed so far away. Yet, the one in New Orleans was just as distant.
It kept falling harder. I pushed the door open, following the line of the sidewalk when I noticed where the sidewalk met the pavement.
One high heel stepped onto the curb. A slender ankle bound by a strappy lace that tied at mid-calf. My eyes traveled along her leg, dragging along toned muscle. Skin that I had memorized. Tasted. Touched. Her dress was swept to the side, gathered to keep the fabric from being soaked in puddles.
My eyes continued to roam, but I wondered if there was a way to make them stop. To stop myself from what I knew was at the end. To stop the inevitable. To stop the way the blood pounded in my veins.
“Kennedy,” I muttered under my breath. She was somehow ethereal even in the darkness. Her movements airy. Graceful. Fuck. I had forgotten how she moved.
She held her dress in one hand. In the other an umbrella. Our eyes met. I saw the confusion spread across her face. Was it from me? Was it from the locked doors of the funeral home?
“Knight.”
“Visitation is over,” I explained. I didn’t have words planned for when I saw her. But I sure as hell didn’t think it would be those.
“Oh my God. I’m so sorry. I should have been here earlier. I guess I got the time wrong.” Her lips looked as edible as they always did. Lush. Pink. She let the umbrella tip sideways. It shielded half her face. I wanted to see her eyes again.
“It’s okay. You didn’t miss much.” I wasn’t sure how to answer.
“I’m so sorry about your father, Knight. I came to pay my respects to your family. I feel awful I’m late. I wanted to tell Felicis how truly sorry I am. My assistant sent a card earlier and flowers. Did my flowers arrive?”
It was then I noticed the dark shadow hovering behind her. Was that fucking Kimble? Five years later and he was still lurking?
“Thanks for stopping by.” The rain pelted my face. It was soaking into the collar on my shirt.
I was immobile as long as she stood in the rain.
Kimble took the umbrella from her and offered his arm to help her navigate the puddles on the pavement.
“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow. Good night.” She glanced at me over her shoulder while he escorted her to a black SUV.
16
Kennedy
“Everything all right?” Kimble asked as he steered out of the parking lot. The windshield wipers were on the highest setting.
“Yes, it’s fine.” I stared out the window but refused to look backward.
“You knew he’d be there.” I felt Kimble’s eyes watching me in the rearview mirror.
“I know.” I folded my hands together. Rain had splotched part of my silk dress. “It was inevitable. It’s his father’s funeral.”
“And yet, he still affected you.”
I pinched my lips. “Nothing to worry about, Kimble. Just drive.”
“It’s just that, he could be a problem.”
I glared. “I can handle Knight.”
“Does he—”
“Enough,” I snapped. “Drive me home.”
I tapped out a quick text to my assistant Crew to ensure the flowers I requested for the Corban family had been delivered. He responded with a confirmation from the florist. What did it matter? I slammed my phone into the seat.
Twenty minutes later he pulled into the driveway, circling the fountain. It looked as if it was drowning in the deluge of rain. He continued into the garage. He turned off the ignition and walked around to help me out of the back of the tall vehicle. I watched the rain pour as he closed the garage door. It wasn’t possible to shut out that kind of misery. I could still hear the rain.
“Ms. Martin, do you need anything?” Bella greeted me when I walked inside. She had only been on my staff six months, but she needed little training. It was an easy hire. “I could bring tea or a glass of wine?” she suggested. She looked concerned about the state of my dress.
“Yes, both.” I smiled. “I’m going to change, but you can take it to my office.”
After a quick curtsy she hurried to the kitchen. I climbed the stairs, gripping the handrail. The top landing seemed as it was five stories up. Knight Corban. I closed my eyes. Damn it. His return had ramifications for everyone. I didn’t know how to sort them yet.
The news of Raphael’s death traveled quickly through New Orleans. Like everyone else, I assumed it would take a bullet to the back of his head for the man to die. It was possible one wouldn’t have been enough. But a heart attack? It was a cruel fate for a man who had spent his life trying to guard against outside enemies. The irony was suffocating.
Our last meeting had been a month ago. He wasn’t happy with me. He never had been.
I sat in front of my vanity and flipped open the lid on heavy marble jewelry box my father had given me when I turned sixteen. The stone was cold against my fingertips. There hidden compartments inside. He had been pleased that it was intricate and unique. I lifted the velvet shelf from inside the box. Beneath it was the pearl necklace Knight gave me the night he left.
I held it up to the light. The diamonds glimmered. I didn’t remember exactly when I stopped wearing it. It had become a piece so dear to me I slept with it until I realized the engraving started to wear. Then I would take it off at night and place it on the nightstand. One day I woke up and didn’t put it on. I returned it to the hidden square and closed the box.
I changed and slipped back downstairs, sitting in a chair by the fireplace. It was too warm to light the logs. I had made minor adjustments to the décor since I inherited the house. One was this oversized white chair. I could curl my feet under me and read reports. Sift through numbers and financial statements late at night.
Bella entered the room quietly and placed the tray carrying a cup of tea and a glass of wine on the foot stool closest to me.
“Is there anything else I can do for you?”
“No. This is plenty. Thank you.”
As soon as she closed the door I reached for the wine. I scrolled through pictures on my tablet. My mind wandered, even when I tried to bring it back to focus. I had to change my schedule to accommodate Raphael’s funeral service tomorrow. I messaged Crew to make sure everything was set.
I couldn’t make the same mistake I did tonight. At least I didn’t stay longer than twenty minutes. I sighed, tapping my nails on the wine glass. The color on the tips matched the pinot noir.
Knight was going to be a major problem. But I’d give him the next forty-eight hours to grieve the loss of his father and finish the funeral services before he discovered what happened in the five years he had been gone. I could grant him that grace. It was the least I could do.
I didn’t want to sit close to anyone during the service. My presence caused enough of a stir. The Corbans didn’t need unnecessary commotion. Kimble performed a sweep of the church, just like every organizations’ security teams did before the procession began. He was satisfied with my seat.
I read the program, waiting for the priest to begin. The black gloves I wore made the pages rustle when I turned them. According to the inscription on the back, Raphael didn’t want the traditional funeral parade after the church service concluded. It was true, it didn’t suit him. But I was surprised the family wouldn’t carry on with what the original New Orleans families considered their life blood—tradition. Original families claimed they were steeped in roots so deep no one could compete with them inside the city.
The wooden benches creaked as more parishioners gathered. I nodded at Seton Hiram and his wife, Priscilla. We had recently negotiated a shipping contract. I was impressed with his operations.
Camille Longrie hobbled in, tapping the marble floor with her cane. She smiled at me before taking the pew a few rows ahead of mine. Her husband was home. I was sure of it. Gerald Longrie hated Raphael. Sending his wife was the weakest attempt he could make to pay his respects to Felicia.
I catalogued the people a
s they filed through the open church doors. I had secured profitable deals with almost everyone in attendance. The few faces I didn’t recognize I assumed were people within Raphael’s organization that were on the bottom rungs of the ladder. I spotted his attorney, Paul, speaking to the priest. The mass should start soon. The family began to gather at the back of the church.
I quickly looked away when I saw the fitted black suit come into view. Shit. The jacket covered athletic toned muscle. It couldn’t be disguised beneath mourning attire. He was still gorgeous and sexy. Finding him in the rain last night had cemented every memory I had of him. The sharp angle of his jaw. The darkness in his eyes. I hadn’t forgotten how warm his skin had been when I touched it. I never forgot the way my body was drawn to his. I reached in my clutch for a peppermint. My mouth had gone dry.
Suddenly, the organ music surged from the balcony behind our heads. Everyone rose to their feet, and I became a participant in the funeral mass of Raphael Corban, my greatest adversary.
There was a great hall attached to the cathedral where wedding receptions were held, celebrations for baptisms, and funeral luncheons. I always thought it was odd that the funerals were lumped into the same category. They should have their own dark room with chippy tables and hand-me-down church linens. They shouldn’t be allowed to dampen the happier life events.
I stepped into the hall, searching for Felicia Corban. Once my condolences to her were extended I could exit quickly and make the rest of today’s meetings.
The problem was there was one person standing between Felicia and me—Knight.
It was as if he felt my eyes studying the broad length of his shoulders. He turned. But unlike last night, the soft smile wasn’t there.
I saw hard lines around his eyes. Obsidian irises glaring at me. His sexy jaw fixed.
I didn’t know whether to turn and run, but instinct kicked in. A mafia queen doesn’t run. I slowly let my gaze drift to the doorway. Kimble was scanning the crowd. He always was.
I held my ground, throwing my shoulders back, jutting my breasts forward. I removed the glove from my left hand to offer it to Felicia. I continued to make my approach. As I moved closer, Knight blocked my next movement. He wouldn’t let me in the receiving line.
