The Duke and the DJ (The Rebel Royals 3)

Oswald's gaze left their guests, and he rounded on Zhi in alarm.

With a quirk of his brow, Zhi assuaged the man of the notion that he would actually get into the diseased waters of the pool. “But I can spare a moment."

"I don't need a moment," said Schiessl, producing documents. "I'm here to serve you with papers."

Zhi recoiled from the documents. Watching his father, he knew better than to touch paperwork. Oswald took the offensive documents.

“As I’m sure you know, your father had many outstanding debts. A large number of them were with the Bank of Feldkirch in Austria.”

Zhi knew of his father’s debts here in Cordoba, and in Spain, and in England, and America. This was the first he was hearing about Austrian debts. Great. More to add to his ever-growing list of both repairs and debts that need repaying with ever dwindling funds.

“This debt was taken out five years ago. The collateral was the estate. It must be paid in ninety days or the entire estate will be forfeited."

Zhi felt the blood stop in his body. It was as though Mr. Schiessl’s words had clogged his entire system because nothing moved. There was already so much debt and very little income. There wasn’t much in the coffers for a snake to move around and unclog.

Mr. Schiessl didn't bother to wait for a response. He turned on his skinny heel and headed back out the door. The staff materialized from the corners.

"We all knew this day would come," said Lin.

"I just hoped it wouldn't be in my lifetime," said Allana.

"But we'll rally," said Mathis. "You'll find a way. Won't you, Your Grace?"

The kid looked up at Zhi as though he hung the moon. Zhi felt like he was hanging from the moon by his fingertips. Just one more ray of light and he'd come crashing down.

He stared at the papers. He couldn't see how to fix this. He was sure there was no YouTube channel on how to go back in time and stop your father from swindling away an entire dukedom.

Chapter Two

Spin watched the sea of people moving like waves. She was the moon pulling at the gravity of the large open space. With a flick of her wrists, the bodies slowed like a retreating wave pulling at the tide. With the slide of her fingers, she brought them back forward, arms straining overhead as they reached up toward the high ceiling. The crowd of warm bodies drenched in sweat inhaled as she held the needle over the vinyl record. Then she let the beat drop, and the bodies crashed into each other.

Being a DJ was life-bringing. She was heady off the power she commanded with just her hands and her ear for a good mix of beats. She looked out at the dance floor where she was the one making people feel, driving them into a frenzy, causing them to let loose their worries and woes and just be.

Spin cradled her headphones in one hand and tweaked the faders with the other. Her own body bopped to the beat as the approaching change in tempo neared. This crowd got her. They felt the crescendo coming. They slowed their movements in anticipation. Spin could see the whites of their widened eyes as they held their breath.

She aligned the tempos, holding onto the notes, matching the beats before mixing in the new track. When she let the needle drop on the new song, the crowd went positively wild. Spin threw her hands in the air and jumped to the bass along with them.

As the sound came down, the applause drowned out the pulsing sound. Spin didn't take a bow. She never did after a session. It was the music and the muses that created this moment. It flowed through her as though God spoke to the crowd through her fingers.

Spin stepped off the stage and received accolades from the partygoers. She took them all in humbly, as her mother had taught her. People could always choose not to listen to the sounds she created, but they would always pay attention if she made them feel something.

Spin pressed her hand to her chest. The cool feel of the gem hanging on the chain reinforced the link to her mother. Spin knew the woman would be proud of her only daughter. If she were here.

"Great set, DJ Spin d’Elle."

"You set the roof on fire, girl."

Spin gave high fives. She accepted sweaty hugs. She held out her hand for kandi when a girl slipped a few of the glowing bracelets over her wrist.

Even after her set, Spin was still on a high. She sipped at her cola, letting the sugar give her a rush. Who needed drugs when music could make you soar with zero side effects?

Though of course there were tipsy twits teetering in stilettos. Frat boys chugging beer after beer like it was Kool-Aide. And clueless stiffs dressed in what they thought was cool for a night slumming in a rave club.

Those types of partygoers annoyed Spin. They were here for an experience. Music was her life.

When a few of the frat boys made a beeline to her, Spin slipped behind the staging area. She was not into mama’s boys. She had no desire to take care of anyone but herself, and those boys clearly advertised that they were looking for a girlfriend to do their laundry and beer runs. No, thank you.

Spin made quick work of the cables on the ground. She heard a thump and was sure one of her suitors had likely not been watching where he was going. Looking over her shoulder, she saw that she was home free. The way was clear.