Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

EDOUARD

S aint-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.”

Now that made me look up. “Through family?”

Dad’s lips ticked up. “I knew that would get your attention.”

I blinked, as I processed that piece of information. “Let me guess, you are a member of this brotherhood but failed to tell me?”

He grinned, shaking his head as if I’d just made a good joke. “Let’s just say that you’ll be the odd one out.”

“Great,” I grumbled, then looked at the paper once more.

“They are our ticket to wealth, mon fils .” He got up, petting my shoulder as he headed for the liquor cupboard. I watched him pouring two glasses of whiskey. “Our clients.” He turned over his shoulder. “You always wondered where I found those high-end customers? Well, here they are. I got you in, and I very much want you to go, do as they say and become a brother of their brotherhood.”

“And attend college?” I frowned, accepting the glass he offered me. My heart started beating faster, and the pit of my stomach littered up with flutters.

Dad’s grin widened behind his glass and he took a large sip. I waited for him to swallow and wipe the corners of his mouth with his index fingers. “Didn’t you always complain about not getting your degree? Well, here you go.”

“Ugh, college.” I winced, and that made him laugh out loud. The sadist. “You know I didn’t mean it!” Shaking my head, I couldn’t stop my own laugh as it bubbled across my mouth, or perhaps it was the alcohol that already took effect. Anyway, I started feeling lightheaded, the knowledge of where my Romain was such a relief that I felt it tightening my chest and pants. That’s right, knowing where he was made my cock lengthen against my thigh. I’d missed him with my entire being, and knowing that I was about to surprise him by showing up, made me feel fucking elated.

There was a knock on the door, and then two of Manuel Perrrera’s men joined him inside. Dad grinned at both of them, pointing toward the bottles of liquor in the cabinet. “Come on boys, get yourself a drink. I’d like to make a toast. To my son, who will start a prestigious boarding college to get his finance degree!” His wink was enough proof not to take that degree too seriously. Thank fuck.

Barely a month later, I stepped foot in Monterrey Castle to start my so-called studies, which fortunately turned out to be one glamorous cover that allowed me to continue working for Dad and set up a network with our clients, members of the brotherhood.

And I was there to reclaim him. My pet.

Monterrey Castle sure was an interesting environment. Built along the traditional castle architecture that dated from the 17th century, the building had endless, narrow corridors, and large, high-ceilinged reception halls. A massive canteen with the table for the so-called elite stood in its heart, and beautiful gardens. Upstairs, there were dorms. Plenty of them. Like everything else in this place, luxury was ranked. The rich shared their dorm, the richer had a dorm for themselves, and the ultra rich owned entire wings.

My Initiations within the brotherhood turned out to be a night to remember, much like the gatherings they occasionally organised. At night, in all secrecy, we’d go walking around in black, velvet cloaks and Venetian masks and take the underground tunnel from the dungeons toward the Atrium, a glassed building that was constructed to be hidden in the woods. I quickly learned that the brothers of the Alpha Fraternarii were a deplorable lot who enjoyed depravity as much as myself, and it didn’t take long for my own newly-found reputation to circulate through the walls of Saint-Laurent. They called me a playboy and a bad-ass.

They were right.

Moreso, I wanted people to talk about me. I hadn’t officially bumped into Romain yet, but wanted him to know that I had made my appearance and that I was coming for him. College might have been small, yet it turned out to be surprisingly difficult to track down those who didn’t want to be found. However, when I finally did, that first Friday after classes had officially started and he was in the basement hanging up decorations for one of the many social activities that were organized, I was kind of taken aback with what I found.

Romain had changed. He had never been a small guy, but his scrawny limbs had grown into lean, smooth muscle. His pimpled skin was gone, replaced by a clearer, pale complexion that would be perfect for leaving marks. His dark, greasy hair was now clean, and short.

He looked mature, aloof to the world. He hung out with a group of losers, had apparently grown a passion for table football and movie nights—he had faultlessly transformed into an exemplary, preppy student.

I hated it.

I wanted him back the way I’d trained him—my sweet, obedient pet.

Mine.

Not this sociable nob head.

Mine .

Not this wannabe rich kid.

Mine .

Oh, yes. I was going to get my hands on him and keep him down. Carve my dominance into his existence and bring him back where he belonged.

But the universe had other plans for me.

T he church bells chime, announcing midnight, as we stand there, still facing each other. My heart thrums in my chest, muscles ready to ripple and stretch. Ready for the hunt.

“Monterrey’s walls hide secrets,” is the last thing Elder Jacques says, voice a bark to be heard over the heavy sounds of the bells.

I only have eyes for Romain. Unlike my black cloak and hood, he’s wearing his school uniform tonight, like the other three participants. His stance is proud, filled with delicious indignation, his glare dedicated to my eyes, as if he has determined to blank out the fact that I’m carrying a knife. A knife I will use.

The participant next to him holds up his hand, licking his lips nervously while his gaze flicks from Copper Mask, who’s standing across from him, holding rope, back to the Elder. “I can’t do this,” he whispers. “I can’t?—”

He’s ignored. Instead, my brothers start to count down with the church bells. “Five, four?—”

“Please!” He calls out. Someone chortles at his panic.

“Three, two, one?—”

“Run!”

Participants take off in a flurry, even the terrified one, running as they hide for cover. We watch them go with smirks on our mouths. All, except for one. Romain’s still standing there, straight as a candle, stiff as a brick, his large, dark, thickly lashed eyes on mine.

“Why you?” He blurts.

“Why aren’t you running, son?” Elder Jacques asks. Next to me, I can feel the others look at him. Raising my hand, I decide I don’t want their gazes on him.

“Brothers, enjoy the Wicked Chase. It seems mine has already started. Right here.” I smirk when I catch the faintest of flickers in those charcoal eyes. Around us, brothers take off with an exciting howl, off on their way to chase and torment their prey, and even Elder Jacques takes his cue to slither back into the darkness.

When I’m sure that it’s just him and me and the pitch-dark forest, I let my smile widen, licking my tongue over my golden tooth. Romain’s gaze dips and he clears his throat, his lips once more pinched tightly, as if he needs to prove to himself that he is disgusted by the sight.

“Welcome back into my life, pet.” I hum, testing the waters.

“Pet?” He sneers, eyes turning to slits behind the silken mask. “ Pet? I’m not your pet. I’m no one’s property.” He hesitates, as if he wants to add something, and his shoulders tighten. He doesn’t, instead takes a step back, but when I take one forward, he lifts a hand from his pocket.

There. A flicker in the dim light. He too, is carrying a knife, and that shouldn’t arouse me the way it does. Hmm…interesting.

Raising a brow, I point the tip of mine toward his filled hand. “Ah, you’ve come prepared, I see?”

He snorts at that, but keeps the knife in his hand for me to see. So much show for me tonight. It’s a smaller version than my golden Damascus pocket knife, but that doesn’t mean it can’t be deathly sharp. “Why you?” He asks again.

I take another step forward, burning his gaze with mine. “You were never a match for me, petit amour .”

“Stop.” He lifts his hand and the tip of the knife mindlessly kisses the pitch-dark sky. I take another step toward him. “Stop…just…stop. You have no right.”

Now, that…“ Me ?” I chuckle. “No right? Watch me, Romain, because if it’s right that I’m missing, I’ll go and fucking get it.” The skin behind my golden mask is burning with fierceness and my hand instinctively reaches for my pocket. Romain watches me, takes another step back, then puffs out his chest.

“Is this still about the money?”

My hand lingers. “What money?”

“The debt Maman made all those years ago.” He takes a deep breath through his nose. “If that’s what this is about, I can pay that back.”

I shake my head. “It’s not about the money.”

Romain brushes a hand through his short, dark hair, and looks to the side, his frustration obvious by the clenching of his jaw. “Edouard, time has changed things.”

“Love the poetry,” I clack my tongue, then point the tip of my knife toward his head. “We’re going to need to have that grow back.”

He snorts at that. “Excuse me?”

“Your hair. I like to be able to manhandle you when you’re down on my knees for me. Can’t do that with very short hair.”

“You can go and fuck yourself, you know that, right?” The tip of his knife points accusingly at my chest.

I chuckle. “I’d rather have you for the fucking, petit amour . Tell me, did you miss me after all those years?” When I take another step forward, he shuffles back with a disdainful huff. I carry on, needing to make my point. “You know, I told my new brothers about you when I came here in September, and you know what your fellow mates told me? That it was impossible, that you were frigid. A friendly dude,” I air quote, “but no dating material. Couldn’t get it up, supposingly. Couldn’t you?” I take another step, and this time his back hits the tree behind him.

Two participants stand huddled in the shadows, watching us with great intent. If they intended to hide, they failed miserably, because even Romain sees them.

“Guys?” He asks. “Can you please?—”

“Fuck off?” I finish, then lift my knife and bring it to Romain’s neck, looking their way. “Now.” They scurry off before I have to ask another time. Turning my gaze back to Romain, I can’t help but give him a snarky, victorious grin. We haven’t been this close for all these years. Certainly, a little pressure is applied, but that won’t ruin my party. We’re about to get a whole lot closer, anyway. “Couldn’t you?” I ask him.

Romain frowns in confusion.

“Get your dick up?”

He blushes. It’s too dark to really revel in the moment and watch that skin blossom on his face, but this will do for now. His eyes flicker with something vulnerable that’s gone after one blink, but I caught it regardless. He’s not as tough as he tries to pretend. I let my knife slowly slide over his long, slender neck, inhaling his panic. It smells fucking delicious.

“That’s none of your fucking business.” He sounds out of breath.

Clicking my tongue, I shake my head. “Now that’s just not true. You’re my pet.”

“I’m not your pet.”

“I bought you.” I make sure to pronounce every single syllable carefully, then watch how his mask drops ever so slightly, not caring that I’m bending the truth more than a little bit here. “From Dad.”

“You did not ,” he snarls, but there’s doubt there. I can feel it, and he knows it too. His bravado wavers.

Making a show of staring at my nails, I crawl my other hand around his throat, pinching him against the tree trunk. He wiggles under my hold. “Careful now, petit amour , we’re both carrying a weapon. You don’t want to get hurt.” I snigger. “Or do you?”

“I hate you,” he spats, blinking when the knife skims over his fluttering jugular.

“That’s what you tell yourself.”

“I don’t tell myself anything, it’s the truth! I hoped I was rid of you.”

With my knee I kick his legs apart, feeling his crotch. Fuckkk… “Liar.” Romain lets out a sharp gasp when I thrust forward, and I hum in satisfaction when his dick hardens against my leg.

“I hate you.” He pants.

I smile, pressing my knee tighter, chasing the throbbing of his erection. I don’t have to wait long. “You’re repeating yourself, baby. Why not try some other language? Like—” Leaning in, I brush my lips against his earshell and breathe in deeply. Beneath me, Romain shivers. “I missed you so much, Edouard. Tu me chauffes, amour . Please, can I come? Please?” My tongue darts out and I lick from his exposed collarbone up to his ear, moaning as I thrust against him once more.

Romain mewls, the sound unhinged and way too short, before he corrects himself by clearing his throat. “ T’es un connard! ” He throws his fists into my chest and manages to land a few punches before he realizes that the tip of my knife is still firmly placed against the tender flesh of his neck. He hisses at the sting, and his cock jolts inside his pants.

I let out a laugh. “Oh, you like that?”

“ T’es fou! You’re fucking crazy!” He swears, but he has stopped attacking me, his own knife that’s resting in his palm, temporarily forgotten.

He can swear all he wants, I know what he truly needs. And by the time this night ends, he’ll be begging me to take care of him the way he truly needs it.

“Careful now,” I mumble, and my knee thrusts against his rock hard dick while I press my knife further against the pale skin of his neck, until I feel the resistance of his skin. Romain ceases his futile attack, panting now as he deflates.

“I won’t be anyone’s property anymore,” he mutters.

“So you shouldn’t.” My hand reaches for the waistband of his navy-blue school uniform, and with a few resolute yanks, I wrench the material open. Romain gasps, then struggles some more in my hold. “Only mine. I bought you, petit amour , remember?” My hand dives in his tight briefs and Romain balks when I wrap my fingers around his shaft. He’s fighting and swearing, hard and leaking. “And you’ve always been so good to me. Just like now…” My hand starts stroking. “Mewl, baby, come on.”

“Fuck you,” he snarls, but his dick is pulsing with need, hips rocking frantically. He tries to wiggle free from my hold and I fucking love it. “ Espèce de —” He grunts, a primal sound that rumbles through his chest and has my own cock weeping in my pants.

“Do you know what it was like for me?” I muse against his ear and he shivers. “To finally be close to you again, but not being able to touch you? The need to have you back in my bed, safe and warm, to dream of having your sweet mouth wrapped around my cock?”

“I’m not your pet,” Romain snarls, but the words come out like a desperate, hoarse howl.

“That’s exactly what you are,” I sneer, then drop him a soft, lingering kiss on his hot cheek. “Now come for me, mon chat, come in my hand.”

He erupts on a sharp gasp, his release unstoppable. Ropes of cum decorate my hand, and Romain puffs and huffs when he seemingly fights to get himself back under control. Once I’ve milked his deflating cock, I let him go and use a cloth to clean my hand. I haven’t felt this light in a long time.

“There.” I give him a smile when he has finally given me all his release. “That wasn’t too difficult, was it?” He doesn’t speak, simply squints his eyes at me, baring me his teeth. “Oh, petit amour , I promise that I’ll treat you right. Now, let’s go back home and leave the academy for the rest of these fucks. I have an empire to rule, and you have a master to please.”

He mumbles something unintelligible, and I lean in to hear better. “What was that?”

“Fuck you,” he snarls.

“What?” I look up, genuinely surprised by his reaction, but take too long to realize it. The tip of his knife flashes in a silent, swift warning, before it slices through my cloak.