Chapter Twenty
Some of the weight had disappeared from Rafe’s chest when he strolled into Marcus’s house the next night. At the very least, he was more focused on the things he could control. No more endlessly checking his phone for texts from Philippe. He was trying to trust the clan leader to contact him as soon as he figured out his own needs and desires. With any luck, they would include Rafe in some way.
But until Philippe reached out to him, Rafe needed to take care of his own family. His clan.
His feet naturally started to take him toward the library, but Bel’s voice on the stairs and brisk footsteps had him looking up toward the second floor.
“There you are!” Bel cried. His twin was dressed neatly in a dark suit with a bright-blue tie that matched his wide eyes. He’d largely abandoned his research over the past week in favor of haunting Rafe’s penthouse. At least until Rafe kicked him out so he could obsess about Philippe without Bel’s watchful eyes.
Rafe glanced down at the Patek Philippe on his wrist and frowned. “I’m not late.”
“No, but you’re usually early, so you can give Winter grief when he does show up late.” Bel huffed a little when he reached the ground floor and shook his head. “Winter is already here.”
“Then I guess I shall have to come up with a new reason to tease Wee One.”
Rafe met Bel’s worried gaze, knowing the smile he offered up wasn’t quite what Bel was hoping for, but it was the best he could muster. His brother’s mouth opened and closed again without him saying a word. Instead he opted for grabbing Rafe up in a tight hug that threatened to knock the air out of his lungs.
A soft, breathless chuckle left Rafe as Bel’s grip eased on him. “I’m okay, Bel.”
“Of course you are,” Bel said stiffly. He tilted his chin up, trying to put on a façade of being insulted by the idea that Rafe might be anything but completely pulled together. His twin could be fucking adorable when he tried. “Now come upstairs before the others arrive. Marcus wants to do this formally.”
“Really? A formal meeting? Since when?”
Bel was already starting up, and Rafe had no choice but to follow. The idea of the Varik brothers doing anything formal was ridiculous. They’d never done anything in a formal manner in all their years. Every meeting they’d had—usually at Marcus’s—was informal and impromptu. They discussed all manners of issues while lounging about his library. These discussions devolved into shouting, teasing, and name-calling when necessary. He suspected that would not be happening this time.
“Since tonight. Marcus insisted that for once we do this properly. Give it the respect and dignity it deserves.”
Rafe frowned, but he couldn’t argue. If he didn’t treat it with the proper respect, how could he expect anyone else to?
He followed Bel through a pair of open double doors but stopped just over the threshold. The room likely served as Marcus’s office, with the usual bookshelves lining a couple of the walls. But all the typical furniture had been removed. There was no desk or computer. At the far side of the room was a large chair with a high back. Flanking the chair on either side was a pair of smaller chairs.
Aiden sat in the center chair, talking with Winter, who stood in front of him. He paused for a second and smiled at Rafe as he entered, then returned his attention to the youngest Varik.
Despite years of antagonizing the Ministry, Rafe had never actually stepped foot in their meeting hall. Yes, he’d been summoned plenty of times, but Marcus always appeared in his stead, arguing that Rafe would only make the situation worse if he met with the Ministry.
But now, standing in Marcus’s study, he had to admit that he’d always imagined the Ministry meeting looking just like this.
“Come, Rafe. Sit beside me,” Aiden invited. He reached out and patted the arm of the chair on his left.
Marcus was already in the chair immediately to Aiden’s right, but he pushed to his feet and met Rafe halfway across the room. While his older brother kept his face blank, there was a weight to his gaze, as if he were silently assessing Rafe’s mental health. Whatever he saw pleased him, because he smiled and pulled him into a hug.
“Bel says we are being formal tonight,” Rafe said with only a hint of mocking.
“For a bit.” Marcus released him and smirked. “And then we will go back to being our usual selves.”
“So keep the ‘Wee One’ and ‘Little Varik’ shit quiet for now,” Winter growled.
Rafe placed a hand to his chest and batted his eyes at Winter in his best innocent look. “Are you accusing me of being incapable of proper behavior? Of being unprofessional? You wound me, dear brother.”