Elegant Sins (Dark Secret Society 1)

1

Montgomery

Blue-blood lineage had a stench so thick and suffocating that only a true disciple could recognize the smell. It reeked of elegant sins, beautiful lies, and opulent obsessions. The odor dripped with inherited malice, the delicate revenge exacted by the super-privileged on whomever they deemed lesser, and the lavish corruption born of centuries with no one to answer to but themselves.

The fragrance was overpowering.

As I walked down the long halls of Oleander Manor, I breathed in the redolence of expensive bourbon, coveted cigars, and the intoxicating perfume of secret mistresses of times past as well as times present. And although many would be intimidated by such a refined aura, I was at home with it.

Elite.

It was who I was.

What I had been groomed for since my first breath of life.

The Kingston name had eternally represented power and prestige since my great, great, great grandfather. Nothing would change that course other than it would soon be my turn to take over the empire.

I’d waited for this day… for the invitation to arrive.

I knew it would never be as easy as my father simply handing over the keys to the kingdom. I was aware I would have to earn my spot, and although I never knew exactly what that would mean, I understood in due time, The Order of the Silver Ghost would come knocking.

“Gentlemen, I see you all received your invites as well.” I said the words deep and loudly. I was taught at a young age that announcing your presence the moment you walked into a room showed a level of confidence needed to compete in the rich alpha society of the South.

Five men, sitting around a circular table, turned to look my way.

Beau Radcliffe was the first to speak casually as he sipped from his tumbler of scotch. “Wouldn’t miss it. You’re the first of our graduating class to begin the trials. Glad we can watch you fuck it up first so we can learn what not to do.”

Ignoring his taunt, I took my seat at the round table made of Honduran mahogany meant for the recruits of the Order.

Six of us.

Up until tonight, we hadn’t reached the age or gone through the trials to earn our place with the members. Although since I was indeed the guest of honor for tonight’s gathering, it would only be a matter of time until I could leave the kids’ table.

“Did we have a choice?” Sully VanDoren asked as he seemed to slouch even more in his hand-crafted seat, gulping the booze from his glass as if it were water. The only thing that screamed high-class from the man was the expensive suit he wore accentuated by the tightly closed drapes that hung behind him in a heavy red and gold, so long and opulent they pooled on the floor.

His mama would be so disappointed in his lack of Southern charm. But I expected Sully’s sour disposition. Clearly, nothing had changed since we graduated Darlington Preparatory Academy seven years ago. He hated being here, always had, and by the look on his face, always would.

“Why did you even respond to the invite?” Beau asked, not out of judgment but mere curiosity. “It’s been years since you’ve been in Darlington. I figured you were dead or something.”

“Or something…” Sully shrugged and reached for the crystal container in the middle of the table filled with a scotch no doubt more expensive than the average Georgian’s mortgage payment. “Not my story to tell tonight. This is Montgomery’s Trial of Initiation.” He lifted his glass to give me a mock toast. “Here’s to getting what you’ve always wanted. Whatever the fuck that is.”

“I want the same thing you all do, or we all wouldn’t be here,” I said.

“Pretty boy Montgomery. Captain of the football team, top of his graduating class, listed in Forbes as one of the wealthiest men under the age of thirty, and one of the Kings of Darlington,” Sully listed with a smirk. “And now you get to be the first of us to turn twenty-five and be bestowed upon even more. Lucky, lucky you.” His sarcasm was not lost on me.

“Stop being such an asshole,” Walker St. Claire snapped. “It’s not any of our faults you hate this shit, your VanDoren name, and Darlington as a whole. But our heritage and ties to the Order aren’t going to go away no matter how badly you might want them to. It is what it is. It’s who we are whether you like it or not. And since Montgomery is the first of us to turn twenty-five and begin this process, our time together in this manor is just beginning. So, can we all agree to not be dicks about this?”

I knew Walker would be like me, think like me, and act like me. He too had lived his life as a true Southern gentleman with veins pumping thick with wealth. His father was one of the Elders of the Order, just as my father was, and we both knew that expectations weighed heavy for us to run the Order ourselves one day.