Chave—the cat—is one of those exotic hairless things. It always looks pissed off and resembles a ball sac to me. Just hideous and creepy.
I step into the foyer, nodding to Alfredo, our butler.
“Easton,” he greets me with one hand on the door and the other behind his back. “Your father is waiting in his office.”
“Is my brother here?”
“Jude just arrived. You missed your sister about an hour ago,” he continues while shutting the door behind us.
I give him a once-over before walking away without another word. He’s been with our family for ages, joining us shortly after Leaon came to live with us. He’s like family, the nurturing part of a father we don’t get from Dad. Sometimes I think Alfredo doesn’t get enough credit. He doesn’t expect it, and we don’t offer, at least not verbally. Affection isn’t a thing in this household, and even though the majority of us have moved out with the exception of Ashton, it isn’t something we’re known for.
Passing the large round table in the center of the foyer, I stroll to the large staircase in time to spot my brother standing at the top. I take the steps two at a time, unbuttoning my blazer along the way. Ashton, Baby as we call him, doesn’t notice me at first—his back is to me and he’s on his phone. I reach the top just as he ends his call and shoves his cell into the pocket of his basketball shorts.
He turns, lifting his chin at me once he sees me. “What’s up, you old fucker?” he teases and playfully throws a jab in my direction.
I block his punch. “I think Alfredo found your pacifier, you might want to get that,” I retort while using my thumb to point behind me.
We laugh at each other, and I slap his shoulder then saunter off toward my father’s office. The door is open, and I can already hear him going on about something. That’s another thing about Dad, he’s always so fucking angry. I swear it’s where Jude gets it from. They’re always scowling, just like that ugly-ass cat.
The walk from the landing to the office is a long one, separated by a sea of carpet and an expensive chandelier. I reach the threshold, pulling the heavy door closed behind me. The first thing I notice is Chave who’s perched on my father’s lap and Jude lingering in front of the desk. The cat hisses at me the moment I enter the room, and I frown at him. The feeling is fucking mutual, I think to myself.
“So, are you going to tell me what happened last night, or do I need to take Jude’s word?” my father asks, petting the external ball sac in his lap.
I shrug and fall into one of the chairs sitting in front of his desk. “Depends on what Jude has already told you.”
“I told him exactly what happened, E,” Jude speaks from his place in front of the desk, though now he’s leaning against the mahogany surface.
I nod and stare at my nails, already bored with this conversation. “Yeah?” I drop my gaze and fix my left cufflink. “Let me guess…you made sure he knew I didn’t kill the girl,” I continue and place my hands on my lap with my fingers clasped together then finally look my brother in the eye.
He doesn’t answer. Instead, he just stares down at me in all of his brooding glory. A glare that’s permanently etched into his features. It’s his intimidation tactic, and it’s almost comical. He’s used to people being afraid of him. I’m not. And so, this act that he puts on is funny to me.
Hell, I’ve known him from birth, and seeing how we grew up, I know the kind of person he is. The kind of people we all are. Max is the oldest, and I’m right below him, which means I’ve watched every last one of my siblings come through the mansion doors.
I was two when Dad brought him and Jett, his twin, to live with us. I don’t remember much from that time, considering I was so young. The only thing I found weird at that point was that none of us had moms. I didn’t understand the logistics of adoption at that age, but I remember almost everything after and understood a lot. More than any other toddler.
They both started as sweet kids, normal kids, but once they hit about eight the training started. Dad didn’t even let us hit puberty before he was shoving his corrupt beliefs down our throat. And that’s around the time Jude and Jett changed. You see, Jett is nothing more than a pervert, but he at least has some sort of moral compass. It isn’t always pointing north, but it’s still there. Jude, though? The complete opposite.
He’s Hyde and Jett is Jekyll.
A ying-yang of sorts.
Good and evil.
Or evil and more evil, if I’m being honest. But despite all of that, I know the real Jude. The Jude before our dad sunk his claws into him. He’s essentially a big teddy bear as long as you don’t cross him.
“Why didn’t you kill her?” Dad asks, his tone void of any real concern.
I glance at him. “Because I plan to handle it my way. There’s no sense in complicating things,” I say sternly. My big asshole of a brother has his way of doing things and I have mine, and more often than not, we butt heads.
Dad nods, and I know it’s not because he agrees with me. As I said, he and Jude are more alike than either of them will ever admit. Witnesses are a complication, and death remedies that.
“Send her to Jett,” my father orders after a beat.
“I said I’m handling this,” I counter.
Dad stares at me for a moment. The protruding veins on his forehead tell me he’s not happy about my disobedience. “We have a system for a reason, son. You know how it works: death or Jett.”
I scoff. “Jett isn’t needed, and I have it under control.”
He tilts his head to the side, his eyes boring into me. “Mm. Are you really handling things, or is your goal to get your dick wet?” His tone is calm, but I can hear the disapproval in it anyway.
I choose not to entertain his question. Frankly, what I do with my dick is none of his business. But I know that deep within his fucked-up exterior, he gets off on the pleasure of others. His kids are no exception to that. The way he handles Kenley, sending her out to do unspeakable shit with men for his benefit is proof of that. So no, I won’t give him the satisfaction of thinking about where I plan to stick my dick.
He lets out a deep breath and rubs his temples once he realizes I’m not going to answer him. “Tell me what happened with Iman.”
“He’ll sign. Emilio is now part owner, and Delirium is the exclusive carrier of Iman’s newest brand of whiskey. We’re already working on the soft launch or whatever the fuck you call it these days. Iman will make an appearance on Saturday, and you’ll get your fucking money.”
“Perfect,” he muses with a smile. “I’m proud of you both.” Dad waves his hand, a signal that indicates he’s done with us.
I stand from the chair and stroll back into the hallway with Jude following me silently.
Once the door is closed behind us, Jude goes left, and I go right, back down the stairs.
“Alfredo!” I shout once I hit the last two steps.
He hurries from around the corner and meets me at the bottom of the staircase. “Easton.” He dips his head. “Do you need something?”
“Where is Baby?”
“His room. Should I fetch him for you?”
“No.” I shake my head. “I’ll get him myself.”