Sinclair (Acquisition Series) (5 page)

“You shouldn’t taunt him so much.” I threaded my tie around my neck and began to knot it.

“He needs to toughen up if he wants to hang with us.”

“I hope that he won’t have to hang with us. Medical school will get him out of here. Away from all this, from us.”

“What’s so bad about us?” He tossed the ball up and caught it again.

“He isn’t…” My fingers hesitated on my tie. “He doesn’t deserve this life.”

Lucius shrugged. “I think you’re underestimating him.”

“I’m not saying it’s a bad thing.” I finished my tie and checked it. The knot was perfect, the deep blue of the tie setting off the lighter hue of my shirt. “I want him to stay the way he is. I don’t want him to turn into…”

“You?” Lucius finished for me.

I cocked my head at him in the mirror. “There are worse things he could be.
You
, for instance.”

“He should be so lucky.”

I’d showered and shaved. My dark hair was smoothed down. Nothing was out of place. Perfection was my favorite form of control.

“You think he’ll ever man up and get inked?” he asked.

“It doesn’t matter either way. He’s a Vinemont with or without the crest on his skin.”

“I think he will. All the girls in Baton Rouge will be on his dick if he shows up with the vines on his arms.”

I plucked my cuff links from the small box on top of my dresser. “Maybe.”

“Fuck, no ‘maybe’ about it. Chicks love tats. I wouldn’t mind trolling sorority row myself. Get some fresh pussy.”

“They might be interested in him, but I’ve noticed him giving the new cook more than a few looks.”

“You going to let him hit that?”

“No.” I raised an eyebrow at him in the mirror as he continued tossing the baseball. “You know that sort of fraternization isn’t allowed. She’s a peasant. He’s a Vinemont.”

“But, come on, you’ve fucked chicks who aren’t top stock.”

Once my sleeves were perfected, I slid my arms into the jacket. “Not ones who are servants in my house. No.”

“I don’t think it would be so terrible if he got his dick wet with her. That’s all I’m saying.”

“You’d be wrong, as usual.” I chose a pair of black oxfords and laced them while pondering what was in store for me at Cal’s house.

An invitation to the Oakman Estate wasn’t something to be taken lightly. Cal Oakman, as Sovereign, controlled too much, had too many allies, and had grown more dangerous each year of his reign. I didn’t know what the party was for, but I was certain it couldn’t be a good thing. Over the past ten years, he’d left the Vinemonts alone most of the time, only sending word when he decided to increase his cut of our family’s sugar business.

We were living quietly under his thumb until a week ago when his invitation arrived, the wax seal imprinted with the all-too-familiar oak. Dread had spread across my mind as I’d opened the letter. A dinner at Cal Oakman’s house on the eve of the Acquisition trials—nothing good could come of it. I straightened and turned to leave my room.

“You sure I can’t come?”

“I’m sure.”

Lucius followed me into the hall and down the front stairs. “You have any idea what he wants?”

“The same thing he always wants. Too much.”

“Do you think…” Lucius hesitated on the bottom step as Farns, our butler, opened the front door for me.

I stopped and let Lucius ask. The same question had been haunting me from the moment the invitation arrived.

“Do you think it’ll be us this year?” The anticipation in his voice told me he was thinking about it like a business arrangement. Being chosen could lead to wealth and, obviously, position. But there was another side—a much darker side—to it all. One he didn’t know about.

“I’m about to find out.” I squared my shoulders and walked out into the night.

CHAPTER SEVEN

A
BOUT TWENTY CARS LINED
the drive to the overdone Oakman estate. Modelled on Versailles, but even gaudier, it dominated the acres of perfectly-mowed lawn surrounding it. The windows sparkled into the gloom, and a handful of guests climbed the stairs to the front entrance.

Luke, my driver, pulled to the front. The valet opened my door, and I stepped out into the muggy southern heat. I made quick work of the stairs and entered the sprawling chateau. Crystal chandeliers hung in a line down the main hallway as party guests broke into cliques.

“Sinclair, my man!” Cal strode up and shook my hand. “Welcome, welcome. So glad you could make it.”

As if I had any choice in the matter. Turning down an invitation from the Sovereign would result in a myriad of consequences that I didn’t even want to contemplate.

“Thanks for having me.” I smiled at him as a tall, willowy redhead in a light blue dress walked up and linked her arm in his.

“Gretchen, my love, where have you been?” Cal slid his hand down to her ass.

She winced.

“Still sore from our earlier fun, sweetheart?” He slapped her ass and she bit her lip, wetness brimming in her glassy eyes. “That’s what I like to see.” He watched as a tear rolled down her overpainted cheek. “Sin, head on down to the dining room. We’re about to start.”

“Sounds good.” I turned and heard another slap coupled with a pained squeal. Cal had always been a sadist. The redhead didn’t realize it, but she was getting off easy. He was capable of much, much worse.

Another slap and another cry followed me down the long hallway. I smiled whenever it seemed appropriate and shook hands with other party guests.

“They invited the Vinemonts? And here I was thinking this was going to be a classy affair.” Red Witherington scowled at me from his group of chuckling friends.

“Sad to see that the beating I gave you last spring didn’t temper your bad manners any.” I smirked as his face fell. “But I’m always up to try again.”

“You’re lucky we’re at Cal’s place.” He stepped toward me. “Anywhere else, I’d take you the fuck out.”

I laughed. “You’ve always been such an entertainer. I’ll tell your sister about this little show tonight once she’s done calling me daddy. She’s a real screamer. Did you know—”

“Fucking prick!” He lunged at me, but one of his friends held him back. Lucky for Red.

I remained still, even as he tried to surge forward and attack. “See you at dinner, Red. I hope you’ll be on your best behavior in front of the Sovereign.”

“Motherfucker!”

“Maybe after your sister, sure.” I strode past him as his friends tried to talk him down.

I was more than happy to step outside and beat Red unconscious, but I had more pressing matters. Returning greetings, I continued down the hall.

Only select families of the Louisiana elite were in attendance, though I couldn’t tell what the significance of the guest list was. There were other sugar producers, yes, but also bankers, politicians, jewelers, textile manufacturers, and a host of others.

Even without any hints from the assemblage, the timing couldn’t be missed. We were only a week away from the start of the Acquisition. The rumor was that Cal had already chosen and met with the competitors. Perhaps this was simply a party to congratulate them. The unease in the pit of my stomach said otherwise.

My discomfort grew with each step toward the dining room. A few guests were already inside, chatting among themselves.

“Sin.” Sophia glided over, her silvery dress shimmering in the light. “Haven’t seen you in a while. Where’s Lucius?”

I smiled down into her dark eyes. “He wasn’t invited. Besides, am I not enough?”

She let her eyes travel down my body and then back up. “You’re more than enough. I haven’t seen you for a while, though. How’s the public servant routine going?”

“Fine. I have to deal with the rabble far too much for my tastes, but I’ll live. How about in-house counsel work? Still enjoying it?”

She wrinkled her perfect nose. “I would hate to have to deal with the lower classes on a daily basis. I don’t know how you manage it.” She flipped her smooth dark hair over her bare shoulder, the skin smooth and tan. “In-house work is much more enjoyable, though time consuming. I still manage to travel quite a—”

Cal’s voice boomed down the hall. “Let’s get started, everyone.”

“I’ll see you around.” She gave me a silky smile before retreating toward the other end of the table.

I chose a seat near the far end, the better to observe Cal and the other guests. He walked in, his chest puffed out and his arms spread wide. “Welcome, welcome. Take your seats.” Striding to the head of the table, he motioned for everyone to sit.

Cordelia Shaw sat on my right, Bob Eagleton on my left. We exchanged pleasantries as the servers brought bread and salad to the table.

“What do you think we’re here for?” Cordelia whispered through her crimson lips. She was the eldest Shaw, her blond hair and bright blue eyes marking her as one of the most attractive women at the table.

“No idea.” I speared a piece of lettuce. “But the ball is next week.”

She shuddered at my elbow, her pert breast rubbing against me through her thin dress. “I hope it’s not me.”

I shared her sentiment on most levels, but there was one part of me that wanted to take the crown and all the perks that came with it. Ruling over the nobility would bring me wealth and power beyond anything I could imagine. I considered the row of people, their jewels sparkling, their very demeanors soaked in luxury and privilege. To rule them would be an engaging game, one that would keep me satisfied for the next decade. But the specter of my mother warned me away from any such ambition—her broken mind was a powerful blow against competing in the Acquisition trials.

“Think it’ll be you?” she whispered and took a sip of her wine.

I maintained my nonchalant air as I carefully buttered my bread. “I heard he’d already chosen.”

She shook her head, her large diamond earring wobbling. “That’s just a rumor. I think—I think this is it.”

“We’ll see.”

Talk continued around us as the first course was cleared away, and the servers brought out the entrées. Bob spilled his wine halfway through the main course and proceeded to blame the staff for his ruined shirt and suit. His round belly took the brunt of the damage, a wine stain spreading across the taut fabric like blood. Despite his setback, he made quick work of his fillet, likely never even tasting the savory notes of rosemary and garlic infused into the meat.

Once we reached the end of the entrées, Cal stood. The table chatter ceased immediately.

“Bring the dessert.”

A wave of servers entered, carrying petite chocolate cakes atop thin bars of gold. My stomach lurched. I recognized the golden ‘plates’. They were invitations to the Acquisition Ball. I’d seen a similar one ten years prior, but I didn’t attend the ball or any of the trials. This year, with Cal in charge, would be different. He apparently wanted to kick off the trials with a bang.

A server set one of the cakes in front of me, the chocolate concoction in the form of a small mound with a dimple in the center.

Cal clapped his hands, the sound like a shot. “As you all know, the Acquisition Ball will be held here next Friday. The rest of the invitations are, even as we sit here, going out across the South—and the country, for that matter—to attendees. It’s going to be an amazing year.” He grinned and stroked his hand down his tie. “You will all remember this Acquisition as the most momentous one of your lifetimes. I guarantee it.”

A smattering of polite applause rippled around the room.

“Stop, stop. You flatter me.” His grin grew even wider, his too-white teeth splitting his face into halves. “But there’s one more thing I need to do before we get started. I have to pick the competitors.”

The room was so silent that it seemed most of its occupants were holding their breaths.

“Before you, sits a decadent dessert.” Cal waved down the table.

I eyed the innocuous cake. Was something rotten inside?

“It’s tasty. I may have sampled one before dinner.” He rubbed his stomach for emphasis. “As you all know, I love surprises. So, my three chosen Acquirers will have a little something different inside their cakes. You’ll know it when you see it, ladies and gents.”

He raised his glass. “Pick up your spoons and dig in.”

The guests hesitated, some of them clenching their eyes shut to avoid finding out. I took my spoon and perched it over the smooth cake, trying to discern if it would blow up in my face or simply ooze into a chocolaty mess.

“Thank God.” Cordelia had cut into her cake. Dark chocolate cascaded from it, and she split it all the way open just to be sure. It was just a dessert, nothing more. She dropped her spoon as if it had burned her. Quiet sighs of relief rose from the table.

“Oh.” Bob spit into his napkin. “This tastes horrible.”

His golden plate was covered with crimson and the distinct scent of copper rose from the cake’s warm interior.