“Since your dinner is on the way, I’ll get to the point,” Kingsley said as he set his empty mug on the rustic wood coffee table. Wood. Splinters. Sharp square corners. Not child-safe at all.
“Or just stay for dinner,” Griffin offered. “We always order extra. Trying to fatten Mick up so we can share clothes.”
“It’s not working,” Michael said. “So much for the freshman fifteen.”
“I’ll give you fifteen lashes later tonight,” Griffin said. “That can be your freshman fifteen.”
“You know we have a guest, right?” Michael pointed to Kingsley. “Like…right there. And he can hear you.”
“King,” Griffin said, “I’m going to give Mick fifteen lashes later tonight.”
“As you should. He clearly hasn’t learned his place yet.” Kingsley winked at Michael.
“I’m just kidding. Mick knows he’s perfect.” Griffin leaned over and gave Michael a quick rough hug and a kiss. They were so easy together, so comfortable. Would Kingsley ever be that comfortable, that playful with Søren? He’d known and loved the man since he was sixteen years old, and he still couldn’t imagine coming up behind Søren and giving him a hug. He’d probably end up in the hospital after taking an elbow to the liver.
“All right, so I’m curious now,” Griffin said. “What’s up?”
“First, I have to ask you to keep this a secret. For now. Just for now.”
“From who? Everyone? Like, even Nora?”
“Yes.”
“Should I go?” Michael looked up at Griffin. “I can go.”
“Whatever he tells me, I’ll tell you anyway,” Griffin said. “King knows that.”
“Yes, I know that.” Ah, to be that young and naïve again.
Griffin and Michael listened intently as Kingsley explained the situation to them—Juliette’s pregnancy, feeling unsafe in the city after what they’d all gone through, the enemies he’d made, and the decision he’d come to…and, of course, the need for someone to watch over The 8th Circle and its denizens.
“Mistress Nora herself suggested you,” Kingsley said. “And I’m inclined to agree with her opinion.”
Griffin looked incredulous. “Me? Seriously? Run The 8th Circle?”
“You. Seriously.”
“That’s a…that’s huge, King. Are you really leaving? I can’t imagine New York without you, or I guess…you without New York.”
“I can imagine it very easily. And maybe when you’re my age, you can imagine it, too.”
“And this is like…a done deal?”
“We found a house,” Kingsley said. “It’s old, however, and in a city that’s hard on houses. We’re looking at a massive renovation that would take about a year. As I told Søren, we’ll have one last Christmas here and then move next January, February at the latest. That’s not much time to train a replacement to run an empire.”
“So…you need an answer pretty fast.”
Kingsley nodded. “I won’t be angry if you say no. It’s not easy.”
Griffin shrugged. “Fuck, what else do I have to do besides keep him in line two days a week?” He tugged Michael’s hair.
“Is that a yes?”
“Let me talk to Mick about it. I’ll tell you in a week or two?”
Kingsley smiled. “Parfait.”
Griffin met his eyes and looked suddenly very serious. It wasn’t often one witnessed Griffin Fiske being serious. “What happens if I say no? You have a runner-up?”
“You don’t need to worry about that.”
“Why? Because it’ll influence my decision?”
“You’ll sell it,” Michael said.
Kingsley glanced down at Michael’s uncanny silver eyes, but didn’t say anything. That told them everything.
“Shit,” Griffin said, falling back onto the couch. “So it’s me or the club folds.”
“There are other clubs in town.”
“There’s no other 8th Circle.”
“And there are very few people I trust,” Kingsley said. “Nora said she’s in no shape yet to take on the responsibility. She would trust you to do it, and so would I. But no one else.”
Griffin blew out a hard breath. “All right. Let me think about it.”
“It does make good money. Not that you need it, but it’s been lucrative.”
“Wouldn’t kill me to have a real job for once in my life.”
Kingsley agreed, but he didn’t say so out loud. He knew far too many depressed and anxious trust-fund babies whose lives drifted along listlessly, without purpose or meaning.
The door buzzer sounded.
“I should go,” Kingsley said. “I believe your Mexican has arrived.”
He was on his way to the elevator when Griffin caught up with him. “Hey, King, wait up.”
Kingsley turned and saw Griffin wearing that same uncharacteristically serious expression on his handsome face. His dark eyes were shadowed. His lips were tight.
“How’s Nora doing?” Griffin asked. “Seriously.”
Kingsley mulled that question over before answering. “I don’t know. Søren says she’s struggling. I saw her just last night, and she admitted to feeling not quite herself. None of us do, I think.”
“Is that why you’re not telling her you’re moving?”
“Søren’s asked me to wait while she gets her bearings.”
“You know she’ll be pissed when she finds out we’re keeping something from her.”
“There are two possible outcomes,” Kingsley said. “One, she’ll understand and appreciate that we were only trying to help her. Or two…she’ll beat the shit out of me and Søren.”
“Hey, win-win.”
“And you.”
“Not a win. Definitely not a win.”
The ancient elevator door opened.
“Goodnight, Griffin.”
“Hey, speaking of the sinister minister…” He lifted his chin. “What’s going on with you and Søren?”
Kingsley only smiled and hit the Close Door button. “I said, Goodnight, Griffin.”
No Rolls Royce was awaiting Kingsley at the curb. He’d been traveling incognito since coming home from New Orleans, and caught a cab. He was planning to head straight home until he saw the glow of Central Park and asked to be let out there.
He buttoned his wool coat and walked with his hands in his pockets, enjoying the pleasant crunch of fresh snow under his shoes as he strolled on the snow-packed lanes. The park was straight out of an old postcard tonight. It was only one of the many things he loved about New York.
What was it Nora told him once about leaving Søren? That there are two reasons you leave someone you’re still in love with: either it’s the right thing to do, or it’s the only thing to do. With her and Søren, leaving him had been the only way for her to live the life she needed to live. With Kingsley and Manhattan…ah, it wasn’t the only thing to do, no, but leaving was the right thing to do. For Juliette. For Coco. For himself. He only hoped that someday Søren would understand Kingsley wasn’t leaving him again, just the city that could no longer keep them safe.