The Duke and the DJ (The Rebel Royals 3)

Chapter One

Diego Zhi Wen de Bernadino, the Duke of Mondego, stood before his assembled staff. It was a big day for the ducal estate. His father's ancestors had ruled over the estate for hundreds of years since sailing from Spain and staking a claim in the island nation of Cordoba.

The Mondegos were conquerors, leaders, fierce warriors who nobles and commoners alike turned to for guidance and protection. For generations, they’d held great amounts of land and governed over countless tenants. True, they'd plundered a few foes and even some allies, but they’d also invested in the land and its people and grown an empire.

Zhi was determined that now that the dukedom had passed down to him at the tender age of twenty-five, that tradition would continue. The guiding, protecting, and investing bit. Not the other more distasteful and dastardly side of his kinfolk.

“We have been charged with an awesome responsibility,” he announced from his place on the grand staircase. “I know these are trying times, but we are the House of Mondego.”

Pride and loyalty shone on the faces of his staff. The males tilted their chins up in deference. The women’s smiles widened with honor. Zhi felt like a head coach in a locker room at halftime. He was certain that after his speech, his team would go out and conquer anything in their path.

“We have traditions to uphold,” he continued. “So, we must buckle down and get to work. Best foot ever forward. Backward never."

It was the Mondego way. It was also the family motto. It had been brought over from their Spanish ancestors, though the Spanish words were more poetic. But, still, it did the trick. His staff was ready to move mountains under his guidance.

As Zhi went to put his best foot forward, a water drop fell on his nose. He looked up at the brown spot in the ceiling. He’d noticed it had spread since yesterday. In fact, it was spreading before his eyes.

In his periphery, he saw the chins of his staff tilt up, way up until they all were looking at the ceiling. And then a deluge poured down on his head. The light fixture next to the spot short-circuited, and they were all in darkness.

"I'll get the breaker.”

"I'll get another bucket.”

"I'll get a mop.”

Covered in water from his head to his toes, Zhi couldn’t make out which members of his staff had said what. He only felt gratitude that none of the three adults that remained of the once dozens of servants and staff of the Mondego estate hadn’t run out of the door at the newest challenge of the collapsing estate.

A towel was handed to him, and he wiped his eyes. Blinking clear of the water, Zhi saw that Oswald, the butler, had opened a panel in the wall. The lights were restored as he pressed a black lever. Oswald’s wife, Lin, carried in two empty buckets while her sister, Allana, plopped down a dry mop that was immediately dampened by the water at Zhi’s feet.

He didn't have to command the skeletal staff that remained. They knew the drill. The estate had been in tatters for years.

“Thank you, Mathis,” Zhi said handing back the towel to Oswald and Lin’s young son.

Zhi rolled up his sleeves and started forward once more to see to the plumbing. His pedigree didn't lend to manual labor, but he'd had to learn these last few years. He’d learned to hang doors where all his life he’d had someone else open and close them for him. He’d learned to level tables and chairs where they’d always been set for him or pulled out for him to take a seat.

Luckily, his degree in music theory helped in this particular repair. Instead of a resonate clanging, the pipes made a gurgling sound. It was a clear indication that there was a clog.

"Snake," Zhi said.

Mathis handed over the device. Zhi went about the repairs as the thirteen-year-old pulled up a YouTube channel on how to fix the plumbing. On the screen, the capable looking female plumber slapped a wrench in the palm of her hand as she explained the finer points of the job.

Zhi found that women explained things in more detail than men did. Men typically just showed the steps with little to no instruction. Zhi had learned that lesson when he’d set about cleaning one of the fireplaces in the east wing and nearly burned the entire estate down.

He'd watched tons of videos to fix roofing, flooring, even videos on how to manage an estate. He certainly hadn't gotten proper tutelage from his father who'd been in charge of the estate before him.

The front of the Mondego estate was still gorgeous. The medieval towers and turrets were imposing in the early morning sky with the sun backlighting aged stones that made them glow copper. The stately home was bordered by woods and rocky hills so no one could see the travesty in the back.

Zhi worked hard to keep outward appearances up. This work was typically done under cover of night so that the neighbors wouldn't see. But inside the once majestic place, the facade was quickly crumbling. Many of the guest rooms weren't fit to keep pets in. The ballroom needed an entire facelift. The kitchens were outdated. The list went on.

When he was a kid, the Mondego estate was still majestic. It was because Zhi’s grandfather, Hernán Díaz, had still been in charge. Once the old man passed on and the dukedom changed hands, the crumbling began.

Literally. The walls and plaster began to crumble. So had some of the flooring and a lot of the paint. But Zhi could only handle one thing at a time.

He shoved the snake farther and met with resistance. A few more shoves, a couple of twirls, and he was able to push the clog clear.

Zhi turned back to the gathered crowd with a look of triumph. Mathis held up his hand for a high five, which Zhi obliged with his free hand. The rest of the staff sighed with relief, shoulders dropping lower as though a burden had lifted. They were all about to disperse to tackle the next item on the day’s list when the doorbell rang.

Zhi yanked the snake out in alarm. A gurgle of water gushed up, expelling some of the debris that had been trapped right in his face. The gunk slithered down his face and landed on his chest, right over his heart.

He had no time to recoil or sputter. “Places everyone.”

Again, they knew the drill. Oswald dashed out of his work shirt and slipped on his service coat which always hung by the door for easy access. Lin dashed into the kitchen to put in a roll to make the place smell inviting and cover up the

musky smell that permeated the walls. Allana and Mathis slipped out of sight.

Zhi dashed up to his bedroom. He stripped off his shirt and cargo pants. He ran a towel over his damp body, but too many water droplets clung. It would not do.

In the end, he slipped on swim trunks and a luxurious robe he'd taken from a hotel. He wouldn't dare step a pinky toe in the Olympic sized pool out back. He wasn't entirely convinced the Loch Ness monster hadn't taken up residence in that swamp.

Zhi made his way casually down the stairs, affecting the air he'd learned from his father. Before he moved forward, a shout sounded from above his head on the third floor. Zhi froze. He knew better than to step back. There was not much he could do but wait and pray the beast above wouldn’t stir.

A small woman with dark, bone-straight hair and wide doe-like eyes materialized from a room. She looked delicate and frail dressed in a vibrantly red silk top with a Mandarin collar. She made brief eye contact with Zhi, and he saw the same slate gray eyes as his own looking back at him.

Wordlessly, a message was communicated from mother to son. Zhi nodded as his mother disappeared above the stairs to handle the monster while he went below to deal with the unexpected visitor.

By the time he reached the bottom stair, the grumbles from above ceased. Zhi let out a breath of relief. The beast was assuaged. For now.

Oswald appeared at the bottom of the stairs with a lanky gentleman who reminded Zhi of the nursery rhyme about Jack Sprat and his wife. This man was definitely portraying the role of the lean husband in the tale.

"A Mr. Schiessl to see you, Your Grace."

Zhi didn't know the name. But he didn't know many of the names of the people who stopped by the estate. His family no longer hosted parties on account of the former duke's condition. But they did receive visitors on account of the former duke's transgressions.

What would it be today? Gambling debts? Unpaid contracts? Or worse, another demand for a paternity test?

"I informed the gentleman that you were not at home to visitors." With his nose in the air as though he smelled something foul, Oswald did the perfect rendition of a snooty butler.

"I'm sorry, sir," said Mr. Schiessl, putting on a snooty air of his own. "But you'll have to see me. It's an urgent business matter."

"You will address him as Your Grace," Oswald snooted back.

"I'm not Cordovian," said Schiessl. The man sounded decidedly Eastern European. Perhaps Austrian?

"But I assume you have manners." Oswald glared at the intruder. A year ago, the butler would have never dared lose his temper. But these were trying times.

Zhi stepped in before the snooting turned to fisticuffs. "I was headed for a swim."