Page 70 of Desperate Victory

Impeccable timing, as always. No one answered the door immediately. Unsurprising. I gave it a solid sixty seconds before I rang it again.

“Well, this is a surprise,” King greeted us via the intercom. “Though I thought it was just going to be you and Emersyn, Miss Benedict.”

“No you didn’t,” I countered. “Because you are not stupid. Now, are you coming down to invite us in or should we continue with our other plans?”

One thing about men in power. They didn’t like subversive challenges to their control. You’d think they would dislike overt ones more, but no—those gave them a chance to flex and prove something.

Subtle digs, such as the fact he was alone in the house and didn’t even have the staff to let us in would sting his pride. The reminder that we didn’t have to be here. We didn’t need him, he needed us. The salt for the wound.

“Come in,” he invited and there was a sound of a buzzer and then the door clicked as it unlocked. Not a servant, but he didn’t come out either.

While not a full point, he had taken the first serve and sent it back. Adam was through the door with Ezra moving in his shadow. Bodhi followed, then Milo eased his grip so I could go as well.

Awareness of the Vandals moving with us kept my focus ahead. Kellan fell into step directly behind me. They would watch our backs. The guys had worked it all out in their planning.

The wide foyer faced a grand staircase head on and opened into three other rooms. A walkable mosaic circle decorated the center of the foyer. Everything else was framed around the Venetian marble.

It was too expensive for what was around it. The inlay made the rest look cheaper, damaged. The design should complement and raise the value of the room around it.

This failed on all levels. The regency table did not match the vintage metal patina plant stand. The gold sheen clashed with the wrought iron of the stair’s railings and the fine filigreed work.

If one had decided to cherry pick some pieces from a catalog of different periods and aesthetics, you might have come up with this.

The fact a sitting room was directly off the foyer and boasted Georgian pieces, rather than Regency or wrought-iron didn’t promise comfort for decorations or seating.

A line of paintings decorated the walls ascending to the next floor. One of them looked a great deal like Em and I wasn’t the only one who noticed. Not that I had time to study it as the man we were here to see descended the steps.

Dressed in a button down shirt, tie, and slacks, he looked like he’d just gotten up from his desk at the office. He’d failed to put on his coat though.

“Emersyn,” King said as he reached the last step and focused on her. For the most part, my best friend just folded her arms when King held out a hand to her. “It’s good to see you.”

“Can’t say it’s mutual,” she fired back. I was very fond of the bluntness. While Em had never been cruel, she’d always gone for the quiet response. The one to mitigate the damage and to disguise how bad things might be.

Not anymore.

“Understood,” King said slowly, though there was no mistaking his disappointment or disapproval. He glanced over the Vandals but continued to study all of us until his gaze landed on Milo. “Son.”

“Asshole,” Milo answered.

Another sigh.

“You know what, Jeff,” Doc said as he stepped forward. It cut King off from being able to even approach Emersyn. My initial judgment where he was concerned was a very large question mark.

Doc was much older than Milo and Em. He’d known Milo since he was a boy. But the radical age difference wasn’t what gave me pause or caution. It was the familiarity with Em when she was a baby and his ties to Milo that were closer than family in some ways.

Some.

Still, he made Em happy. That I could never fault.

“Let’s save the bullshit. No one wants to hear it and you really can’t sell it anymore.” He gestured to the other room. “If you want us to sit somewhere, lead the way.”

“Mickey J,” King practically tsked as he turned to lead us through to another room. Probably an office or a library. Somewhere he held the power.

Instead of pausing at Em, though he had glanced at her, King came to a stop in front of me.

“Miss Benedict?” He offered his arm. Milo didn’t make a sound. None of them did. But if looks could kill, I was pretty sure King would have been dead at least a dozen times over.

“If you insist,” I murmured. We had goals for being here. While I couldn’t stand the man, I was also not as personally invested as everyone else beyond what he’d done to my best friend and my lovers.