Tacet a Mortuis (The Elite King's Club 3)

“You can talk with Jase and make sure he can gather his Kings, and I’ll get to the rest.”

I stood up. “Dad…” I called out, just as he was about to leave. “Does Mom know about you and Khales?”

“Son, she’s known for a long time, now.” Then he left. As quickly as he comes, he goes.

I stretched out my neck, annoyed at both my parents now, but sympathizing with my mom. It must’ve hurt her to some extent, surely. Aside from Dad’s words, he loved her once. She was his entire world, I knew this because I’d seen the photos and heard the stories. They were their era’s modern-day Bonnie and Clyde—mafia style. So whatever the hell was going on between him and Khales, there had to be something in it for him. I headed toward the pool-house, ready to fill in Nate and Daemon. Thank fuck this house was so large, it ran the risk of running into Khales less. I headed inside and shut the door. Both Daemon and Nate were on the sofa, speaking in Latin.

“We need to talk.” Then my eyes fell to Daemon before realizing I needed to switch to Latin.

Women. Some read that word and think beauty, assholes read it and think sandwiches, but those who bathe in intellect read that word and feel power. Our bodies, built in all different shapes and forms, all bared one thing in common; power. Without us, humanity would not exist. We bear our flesh and our bodies to create new humans, and then continue to nurture and care for them, that’s why when I’d see the word “women,” I thought of power. Despite my rocky relationship with my mother, and not knowing my birth mother, I was beginning to explore more of this mindset each and every day, and I think Bishop’s mom had a lot to do with that.

“Hi, honey.” Scarlet walked into the room, leaving the door slightly ajar. She wrapped her light mesh throw around her slender waist. “Can I come in?”

“Of course!” I tucked some of my hair behind my ear and shut my nail polish. Sliding off the side, I tucked my hands under my thighs, slightly nervous about what our conversation could lead to.

She took a seat at the end of the bed and turned to face me front on. “I know we haven’t spoken much, but I want to always be completely transparent with you.” She cleared her throat and tied her short hair to a small bun at the nape of her neck. “I met Hector when I was around your age. I was new to town, and he was the born and bred rock star of The Hamptons,” she paused and sent me a small wink. “Like father like son. Anyway, I caught his attention pretty much instantly, which, like Bishop, was always hard to do. He, again like Bishop, only dabbled in slightly older women who were either models, actresses or singers. Just to clarify, the reason why they choose A-listers is because those people understood the dynamic of privacy. The Hayes men are taught at a very young age to keep their business out of drama and to eliminate that, they never messed with high school girls or college girls.” She paused, pulling her lip into her mouth. “I thought he loved me. He made me feel wanted and chased. I mean” —her face lit up like the Fourth of July— “obtaining the unattainable, sets off endorphins similar to running ten miles. So we fell in love. My parents struggled to like him. They knew there was something he was hiding, but I ignored all the warnings. I met his family and bonded greatly with his dad. He was everything Hector wasn’t.”

My eyebrows shot up. She shook her head, a horrified expression falling over her face.

“Oh! No! God no. I just respected him so much. If he were still here, he would have loved you.” Her eyes fell to her hands before coming back to me. “Anyway, I got my first acting gig on a small TV show, and Hector was supportive. There through it all. We have great memories together.” Her smile fell, and suddenly, the room felt smaller than what it was a moment ago. “Two years later was the first time he cheated on me, and I’m not telling you this because I think my son is the same, I’m telling you this because Bishop is a lot more like his grandfather than he can see. I thank the Lord every day that Bishop got twelve good years from his pops, because he planted the seed of good in his heart. Yes, Bishop is cold and calculated like his father, but I see the way he looks at you, and it’s not the way Hector used to look at me. It was how his pops looked at his gran.” She swiped away a stray tear and reached for my hand. I didn’t know what to say, I was rendered speechless.