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“Yes.” Benedict wasn’t bothered by my sudden display of temper, but some of my other staff shrank away. “And like I said, he’s been calling on the phone since yesterday. Obviously got himself into some more…difficulties.”
“Fucking humans.” My voice was a low growl.
But Benedict laughed. “I thought you didn’t believe in that?”
And just like that, my mind was immediately back with the woman from outside the store, and my dick twitched. But I swallowed down the sudden whisper of desire and recalled my anger before setting Jean Boucher’s file to one side while Benedict talked me through the other collections cases.
I glanced back at the Boucher file for the rest of the morning, though. Stupid fucking drunk. Only reason I gave him a tab in the first place was because I’d known his family a long time. Well, his wife’s family. Boucher had walked into a sweet setup of a marriage with the daughter of one of Baton Rouge’s oldest families.
A family I’d known since the beginning here, and a bar I’d frequented nearly as long throughout the decades. I’d watched over every generation of that family, and it had only taken one drunk man with a weakness for giving his money away to bring everything tumbling around his ears.
It seemed he’d built his newest house with my cards, and I was about to bring it all toppling down.
Guilt gnawed at me, though. I’d lost touch with the family around the time of Camille’s marriage to Jean, too caught up with Father’s descent into his long, slow demise and my inevitable rise to the throne to bother with the only humans I seemed capable of tolerating. Even their presence had irritated me at the time, so I’d cut all ties and focused on my future role, doing my best to prepare and forge the alliances that would sustain me through my transition from heir to king.
Regret was a useless emotion, but I sighed as I stood and walked to the window, looking out over the humans who couldn’t see me, the ones who might get lucky every now and again, but who would ultimately lose. Because I wanted to win. I controlled their every moment in here. There were no clocks, so they wasted hours of daylight, never aware when sunset passed to night or sunrise to day. The seats were just comfortable enough to relax into before the play at another table attracted their attention, and the high-stakes slots in another room played a celebratory tune no matter the size of the win.
Here, these humans were mine.
Only now, what Jean Boucher had was also mine. He might as well have gift wrapped it with a bow and presented it to me.
I rested my fist briefly on the glass. I’d long since become immune to the stupidity of humans, how they always reached in vain for the unattainable, but every now and again one of them surprised me with the extent of their belief that they would triumph despite the odds.
And in this particular case, I couldn’t help but feel sympathy for the long line of family members I’d watched toil to build their small but worthy Baton Rouge empire—an empire that only took the mistakes of one man to crush. They kind of felt like my family, in some odd and remote way, and it would please me to watch Jean Boucher pay for his fucking stupidity.
Guilt at neglecting them for so long washed through me again, but that kind of sentimentality was ridiculous. Humans meant nothing to me, and Father’s decline had needed to be hidden for as long as possible. It had taken all of my attention.
But I would make Jean pay now. It would help work out some of my frustration if nothing else.
“Nic?” Benedict’s tone suggested this wasn’t the first time he’d spoken my name as a question.
“Yes?” I threw the terse reply over my shoulder, barely even glancing behind me.
“I asked if you’d seen the sub-clause I mentioned.” My friend sounded like this particularly interested him, but anger over the fact that it just took one dumbfuck in a long line of decent people to screw up a good thing still caused tension in my muscles.
The plantation home and bar Jean Boucher had gambled away had been in Baton Rouge nearly as long as I had, and I’d always taken a little comfort in knowing they were both here unchanged. An immortal life was a long one with many changes, and I’d taken my comfort in a constant.
I grinned ruefully. That probably made me the dumbfuck.
“I remember the sub-clause.” I turned away from watching the people gambling their lives away. Gambling their lives to me.
“Doesn’t it interest you?” Benedict quirked his eyebrow, but I shrugged.
“Not particularly. What’s an extra piece of collateral wagered by a drunkard?” I took my seat and flipped through the paperwork again. The outstanding amount on his tab probably didn’t even reflect what he’d poured into La Petite Mort over the years.
When he’d stopped having free cash to plow into his habit, he’d turned to credit. To his house. To his bar. To other valuable things.
“I’ll collect this debt myself.” I shoved the file from me, disgust at Boucher making my movements sharp.
“You?” There went Benedict’s fucking eyebrow quirking again, and with good reason.
My entire staff was well aware of my thinly concealed intolerance of humans, but I needed to do something that wasn’t demanded of a new king. I wanted to just be a casino owner again, needed some action.
But being a casino owner didn’t negate the fact that I was now king, and I’d spoken, and Benedict had dared question me, so I glared at him. And at every other fucker at the table for good measure. They all dropped their gazes, suddenly busy with other files. Any other files.
“What do you need me to do?” Jason asked. He was the only one I didn’t scare, which was endearing when I was in a good mood and frustrating when I wasn’t. But beyond being my bodyguard, he was also my sireling, and he never had anything to fear from me because that bond between us was strong.
“Get legal to draw up the paperwork we require to call in Boucher’s debts. All of his debts.” I passed the file to Jason so he’d be able to follow my instructions.
