Elegant Sins (Dark Secret Society 1)

“Anyone have an idea of how much time and commitment this whole Trials of Initiation is going to take?” Emmett Washington asked, looking down at his smart watch. “I have a business to run and am a little short on time to play this gothic game of…”

He glanced around the room, looked up, and smirked. A large Baccarat crystal and brass chandelier hung from the fifteen-foot-high ceiling. Along the ceiling were plaster frieze mouldings that were made from mud, clay, horsehair and Spanish moss.

“I don’t even know how to describe this. But I don’t have a lot of time to waste on this morbid version of a class reunion.”

It was hard not to notice and be impressed with our surroundings. The Oleander Manor was one of the few remaining historical manors in Georgia that had not been burned to the ground in the Civil War. It was so rooted in southern history that you could practically hear the howls of the ghosts without trying.

“Well, it’s not truly your business until you go through your own Trial,” I pointed out to Emmett. His family might be new money, but his daddy had been invited into the Order more than a decade ago. They welcomed all men of influence and power into their ranks—but only men. We couldn’t be too progressive, now could we?

“We all work for Daddy until the ceremony of the key passing occurs. So, like Walker said, let’s make the best of it.” I reached for the scotch and poured myself a drink. “Yes, this is going to consume us, but it’ll be worth it. We’ll soon be richer men than we already are.”

“How long do you think they’ll keep us in here until we get summoned to the white room?” Rafe Jackson piped in, looking impatient. “I agree with Emmett on having to run a business. I have early meetings tomorrow and don’t exactly want to be up all fucking night.”

It would be fair to say that Rafe had to work harder than all of us combined. His money was not nearly as old and rooted as we were lucky to inherit, and he had to bust his ass daily to keep the Jackson name on the list as one of the wealthiest in Darlington County.

It wasn’t easy to be listed as the richest names in the most affluent county in Georgia, but we all managed to do so. Rafe was one stubborn son of a bitch who wouldn’t accept anything but sitting at this prestigious table we all circled around, no matter what it took to get there.

And that was a fact for all of us.

We all would do whatever it took to maintain the wealth for not only ourselves, but for many generations to come.

It was the blue-blood way.

“Never thought I’d see the day that Daddy Kingston would hand over the reins to you,” Sully said, eyes dark. “Hit you upside the head with them, maybe. But just place them in your hand with a smile on his face… fuck no.”

“He doesn’t have a choice,” Walker interjected.

I huffed as I took a sip of my drink. “I’m sure it’s killing him inside. I never could live up to the man’s expectations. No matter how much money I make him, or how much I have added power to his twisted empire, I somehow never do enough.”

I glanced at one of the many portraits of the founder hanging above the marble fireplace mantel and felt as if his judgmental eyes were acting as a replacement for my father’s. “But rules are rules. The Order of the Silver Ghost have their own law book that supersedes all others. My father can’t change the fact that at the age of twenty-five, I get to stop looking in from the outside. If I pass the Trials of Initiation, the business is mine. All of it.”

Saying the words out loud felt good. Really fucking good, and I sincerely hoped that my father was somehow spying and listening in on the conversation.

That’s right, Daddy Dearest… I will do whatever it takes.

“Talk a tough game all you want, but we all know that what’s asked of us is far from normal,” Emmett said. Being a relative newcomer, he’d always thought this whole process was nuts. Not that it would stop him from partaking when his time came.

Rafe chuckled as he impatiently checked his watch again. “That’s an understatement.”

An empty bottle of scotch and a half hour later of small talk, the sounding of a pistol being shot from out in the garden finally announced our night was about to begin.

I took a deep breath but then reminded myself I’d seen all this before.

Yes, we were recruits, but we had attended enough ceremonies in the manor as spectators to know exactly what would come next. Most of us practically cut our first teeth on the ancient furniture in this place. Fathers had brought their sons to the Oleander from the beginning of the Order’s creation. We were no strangers to each nook and cranny as well as every hidden and wicked secret the halls possessed.