Volatile Love (The Gilded Sovereign 2) - Page 1

Prologue

Present Day

Once I knew I was in this life for good, I promised myself I would never let anyone else in my family feel the impact of what’s to come. I fought it; I asked and begged Abner to let Etienne go, but he refused.

The man is a monster.

And now my son is one of the Crowns.

At first, I thought he’d fall into the same trap we all did. But seeing him here, grown up, more mature than I could’ve ever expected, is far more jarring than if he’d been a party animal. When I left Tynewood, Etienne and his friends were always at the lake house drinking and having keggers and I worried about him. But then I realized it was normal teenage behavior, I’d done the same.

What concerned me more though was the thought of him turning into Abner Lancaster. Even though the man was a friend, I knew how much of an asshole he was. I knew he wasn’t good.

My formative years were spent with Abner, and Tarian’s uncle and mother, Thane and Yasmine. I knew all along I didn’t want Etienne to be like me, or them in any way. We did things I’m not proud of, but Abner always took it a step too far by reveling in the violence, blackmail, and illegal activities that ultimately brought him down.

I never wanted my son to be burdened with the darkness that came with the Sovereign. Once you’re sworn in, it’s as if your soul is blackened with the filth that resides within the walls of the dungeons where our meetings are held.

Knowing how Abner tore apart the Tynewood faction only cements my need to break the whole Sovereign down, but I know it will never happen. As much as I want to deny that I wouldn’t cross the line if I needed to, I can’t. If it means keeping Etienne safe, I’ll do anything. I pray with all I have that Etienne, Tarian, Ares, and Philipe will find a way to change the filth that’s plagued the society and turn it into something good. Something worthy of being a part of.

As much as I hate being a Crown, I can’t forsake what I’ve worked so hard to accomplish. Lifting the glass to my lips, I take a long sip of the deep crimson liquid. Port has been my drink of choice for a long while, and I savor the sweetness and burst of flavors that hit my tongue.

The office is silent, and I close my eyes for a moment to soak up my aloneness. It’s not often I get the chance to be with my own thoughts. Running the London wing of the Sovereign has its pitfalls, one of them being that I’m always watched by the men who I govern.

It’s been a long time since I first walked into this room and took the seat at the head of the table. When the man who I worshipped ran this place, it felt as if we were in the army—he ruled with an iron first. But the day he died, a part of this manor house went with him.

I’ve lived here for almost seven years, and I swear I still feel his presence. As if his ghost still walks amongst the carpeted halls. Every step that creaks, each window that affords a view of the vast grounds make it feel as if I’m living in a museum.

A knock at the office door draws my attention to the heavy wood. It’s a soft sound, one that lets me know who’s on the other side without hearing her voice.

“You know you don’t have to knock,” I call to her. When my wife told me to choose between her and the Sovereign, I walked out. I prayed that Etienne would find something to occupy his time and mind that didn’t involve the Crown, but the wish was futile. I should’ve brought him with me, but I couldn’t take him away from his friends.

When the door slides open, Maisy walks in. Long dark hair flows down her back, the wide blue eyes that I’ve come to love pierce me with questions, but I can’t give her any information as to why I’m hiding in the office.

I had promised her father I wouldn’t let her get too involved in the society. I couldn’t allow her to get hurt. Even though she knows about the Sovereign, after her father died and I took his place, I kept most of the dealings contained in the office, locked up tight.

“I missed you in bed,” she tells me, settling herself on my lap, taking my glass and sipping the alcohol. At thirty, she looks closer to twenty-one. With smooth, creamy skin, blemish-free and perfect, she’s like a doll.

“I needed to finish up some paperwork,” I tell her. “Etienne is coming to the manor tomorrow.”

Tags: Dani Rene The Gilded Sovereign
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