Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 85414 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85414 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
“That they were betrayed and the fire was instigated. That information is going viral in the aristocratic community. Many say that Tristan and Aaron are back for revenge.”
“Correct, but I’ve been doing some more digging and…” He lifts his head and readjusts his glasses with his index and middle finger. “It’s rumoured that they’re trained in combat, which shouldn’t be the case since they’ve never been in the military.”
“Perfect. That means Tristan knows the people I need and won’t waste my time.”
“It means they’re dangerous, sir. Doing business with them is one thing, but getting involved in their secret lives is an entirely different territory.”
“If it gets me what I want, I don’t mind.”
“How about your principle of not taking risky decisions?”
“Risky decisions need to be made sometimes for better opportunities. Besides, Tristan is a businessman before anything else. He knows how to speak the language of profit.”
The car comes to a halt, and I step out, buttoning my jacket.
This isn’t the first time I’ve been here, but I usually come to the Rhodes estate with either guests or Ethan’s unwelcome presence to conclude business deals.
A security man motions at me to go into the northern wing. There are four wings in the estate, and Tristan always welcomes his guests in this one.
The other wings sit majestically in the distance — eastern, western, and southern — forming a massive rectangular shape. Despite the effort Tristan and Aaron have spent in turning this place into what resembles a palace, there’s a certain haunting quality to the Rhodes estate.
It’s probably because of the fire and the number of people who lost their lives in it.
It reeks of death; I can smell it no matter how many flowers and perfumes are used to mask it.
A statue of a knight on a black horse sits majestically in the middle of the reception hall. Another statue, a black jaguar with blue gems as eyes, stares down his nose at me.
That’s another weird quirk of the Rhodes’. They actually raise live jaguars as pets.
I follow the security man up the sweeping marble stairs until we reach Tristan’s office. He stops, straightening as if he needs to be presentable for the task, before he knocks on the door.
“Come in,” Tristan’s levelled voice reaches us from the inside.
The buff man opens the door and nods at me to go in. As soon as I enter, the door closes. I have no doubt the security team member will stay in front of the office in case I pose a threat to his employer.
Not that I would. He’s an ally, and I take good care of my allies.
Tristan isn’t behind his large desk. He’s casually sitting in the lounge area, reading from a newspaper. He’s wearing a dark blue striped suit. Italian. Interesting. Nobles usually prefer English cut suits, but Tristan is an exception to his title in many ways.
He and his cousin have black hair and dark eyes that differentiates them in a crowd. Although Tristan is in his mid-thirties, he has the mind of someone much older. The most fascinating part is that he doesn’t like to show it — almost as if he’s living a secret life, as Harris suggested.
Upon my arrival, he neatly folds the newspaper and slides it onto the table, showcasing his family crest ring that rests on his index finger. Taking his time, he stands up and buttons his jacket. “Jonathan, welcome.”
I take his hand in a firm handshake. “Your Grace.”
“We’re past the titles’ nonsense. Tristan is enough.” He motions at the chesterfield sofa across from him. “Please.”
I unbutton my jacket and sit down, acutely noticing that the contact he said would be waiting for me isn’t here.
“Do you want anything to drink?”
My gaze discreetly takes in my surroundings, so I commemorate details in case there’s a need for an escape plan. I might consider Tristan an ally, but I never allow myself to get too comfortable. “I’ll take cognac on ice.”
“Excellent choice.” He strides across to his minibar and pours us both a drink. And while I know he prefers scotch, he returns with two cognacs.
That’s a good tactic to show how open-minded he is, and to put me at ease in return. Only, I never leave myself unprotected.
He pauses near the open balcony that’s directly opposite me before he settles across from me. Well, well…
“Have I shown up early?” I take a sip of my drink.
“No, not at all. Perfect timing as usual, Jonathan.” Cradling the drink in his hand, he leans his elbows on his knees. “I just thought we could talk about your needs before I put you in contact with my man.”
“I need someone to be found.”
His expression doesn’t change, but I sense how his mind is calculating. He’s a bit like me in how he masters which emotions to show and which to keep buried. “We’ll need more than that. Background?”