AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The bells start chiming and even Elder Jacques shuts up. Finally. There’s tension in the air, the other participants fidgeting as they’re waiting for instructions. Romain stares me down with balled hands.
Mine.
I casually dig my hand out of my pocket to show him the knife. His eyes turn to slits and the tight line of his lips curls down in disapproval. But I don’t miss the way his shoulders deflate.
Yes, petit amour, that’s for you. It will hurt, but I promise you, I will make you feel better really soon.
CHAPTER 2
EDOUARD
Saint-Laurent Boarding College for boys.
The mere thought that we still have schools for boys in the 21st century truly is a laughing stock. I mean…who cares about gender anyway nowadays? I don’t, that’s for sure. I definitely swing both ways.
Dad didn’t laugh though, when he told me about it last summer. He had sat me down in his office on the leather armchair—a seat I was only given during formalities. As we faced each other, him behind his cherry-oak desk, the large windows showcasing our gardens flanking him, I realized how much we looked alike. I inherited his thick, blonde hair and grey eyes. His long, straight nose and that firm mouth that could smile so easily when we were together.
We were close. And the past two years we’d spent countless hours in each other’s company, as he taught me the ropes of managing an organization such as ours.
“That’s where you sent him?” I asked. “To a preppy college for boys?” I couldn’t believe it.
“I did.” Dad’s lips curled up in amusement. Thick as thieves or not, the sorrow from my years of heartbreak threatened to transform into boiling blood at an alarming speed. I jumped out of my seat, nearly tipping it over, and snarled furiously while lifting a finger at him in accusation. “Romain was mine!” I sneered. “And you took him from me.”
Dad shook his head, lifting his hands, clearly unbothered by my anger, and pressed his fingertips together in front of his mouth. “No, mon fils, he wasn’t yours. He was mine. Now, sit down, we have more important things to discuss.”
“No—” I panted.
Dad nodded his chin, and two of his men came forward. Men I used to play cards with, drink coffee with, go to clients with. Not now. This was a show of power I recognized immediately. This was proof that there was only one boss, despite me being his son. Despite me being in training to take over one day. That day hadn’t come yet.
“Alright, alright.” Straightening my jacket, I sat back down, ignoring how Dad snickered.
“So hot tempered. You remind me so much of my younger self. Manuel?—”
Dad’s right hand came marching forward, an envelope in his hand.
“For me?” I asked, frowning when he gave it to me instead of Dad, who nodded.
“Open it.”
It was a letter. A hand-written, curly text, that seemed to be as odd and old-fashioned as its stamp—Saint-Laurent Boarding College for boys.
“You, our brother, who carries his heritage with dignity and pride, who walks this world with his head high, searching—not quite finding—to belong. And belong you shall, brother, because today is the day that your life will change.
You are invited to become part of the inevitable, the circle of gold that will keep your spine straight and your dignity intact. To meld into a group of people who are like you, brother, who were once searching but who found—found—what life really means.
Loyalty.
Respect.
Tradition.
Sacrifice.
And soon your Initiations shall begin.
“You’ve got to be kidding,” I mumbled as my eyes scanned the words. When I got to the end of the cascade of words, I flicked up my gaze. “Right?”
“They’re a secret brotherhood,” Dad elaborated, though I understood even less. “Formed in the 18th century by the elite of the country, the super rich. Invitation is solely through family.”
