“Miss North said she was overwhelmed. She only wanted one dress and one pair of shoes.”
“Hmm. What about the earrings?”
“She said they were pretty, but that was it. I assume she wore them?”
“She did,” I said, “Five grand hanging from each of her earlobes.” I gave that some thought. “Either she is more accustomed to wealth than I realized or she didn’t recognize their value.”
“Do you want me to retrieve them?”
“No. Tomorrow, I’ll have the diamond and ruby necklace for you to present.” First, I must retrieve the heirloom from the safe. The necklace had been my mother’s, commissioned from a famous jeweler in London. While my father had paid handsomely for it decades ago, the piece had only appreciated in value. Tomorrow night, Emma would have ten grand on her ears and roughly three hundred thousand around her neck. I grinned as a fleeting thought of that being her only attire struck out of nowhere.
“I believe I know the necklace you’re talking about.”
“Yes, it will look stunning with a red dress.” Or without. “Tomorrow, take her two dresses to choose from—both red.” Illusion of choice. “And then present the necklace before I arrive.”
Ian nodded. “Yes, sir. Did you tell her about Underwood?”
“No.” The image of Emma’s business partner deceased upon the hotel bathroom floor brought my mind back to matters at hand. Leon had procured a copy of the photo from the police report. I shook my head. “There’s nothing she can do about it at this moment. If she knew she was a suspect, who knows how she’d react. It’s better to keep her concerns focused on the here and now.”
“I was speaking to Miss Guidry in the kitchen when you texted.” Ian grinned as he shook his head. “According to her, the spirits are rejoicing. She is planning a large celebratory wedding.”
While I was used to Miss Guidry’s referencing spirits as her frequent communicators, I recalled how Emma’s eyes grew wide each time Miss Guidry mentioned speaking to those who had gone on before us.
Ian went on, “According to Ruth, the deceased are already celebrating.”
“She’s right,” I said, “about the marriage. It will happen.” I took one last look at the large doors to her suite. “As for a large ceremony, time will tell. I’d be content with a private ceremony, one where Emma is well protected.”
If I’d had any reservations about Emma’s and my union—legal and physical—in the small amount of time I’d spent with Emma, they had disappeared. I was more than ready to have her as my wife, in my bed, and at my beck and call, but that wasn’t the only issue at hand. First and foremost was her safety, quelling the threat posed by Isaiah Boudreau II. Second was this police matter, and third, her readiness to take on her role.
Submission given was sweeter than submission taken.
Emma would give it and we’d both find pleasure in that.
Nodding to Ian, I made my way down to the first floor and my real office.
My destination wasn’t where I’d met Michelson earlier in the day. The summons I sent to Leon would bring him to my true inner sanctum. That was the suite of rooms where I conducted business, where life-and-death decisions were made and where destinies were decided. Few people were granted entrance to that suite of rooms and even fewer made it all the way within to my office. Entrance was given to the most trusted of my men, such as Ian, Noah, and Leon. Others made it farther than Michelson, and there were some who entered the suite and never left.
Technically, the shell of their body left, taken away to never be seen again.
I stepped through the threshold fully aware of the comfort I found within these walls.
Rett
The inner office in my home soothed my senses like no other place could. There was the craftsmanship of the trim and paneling, the stately elegance of the furniture, as well as the lingering scent of expensive cigars and colorful spines of books filling shelf after shelf made of dark cherry. All of the elements added to the ambience.
This suite of offices had been constructed generations ago with the intention of both privacy and safety. While this inner room was without windows, it wasn’t without character. The ceilings were fourteen feet high. The walls were twelve inches thick with two inches of metal welded into the center. Those within could weather a category-five hurricane or an attempted coup.
To enter the inner office required passing through two other rooms. The door from the outside was camouflaged. The concept of hidden rooms and passageways was popular when this mansion was commissioned. Every entrance was also reinforced.
I took my seat in the worn leather throne-like chair at the large desk.
Inhaling, I ran my hands over the wooden arms, gripping the claw design at the end. It wasn’t that I couldn’t afford something newer, more stylish, and perhaps ergonomic. It was that my father, my grandfather, and great-grandfather before him sat in this chair. It was here that proclamations had been declared, summonses issued, and verdicts given.
Miss Guidry would say that their spirits resided here to guide me. I didn’t believe that. I supposed that each man had set examples of ruling in this seat. I’d spent days and weeks in this chair reading through their handwritten notes and absorbing what they felt was worthy to be documented and saved for prosperity. Whether the examples were good or bad, I learned what to do and what not to do. I was granted insight into generations of New Orleans’s important players.
The chair wasn’t going anywhere and neither was I.
While the rooms had history, my great-grandfather, grandfather, or father would scarcely recognize the additions that we’d made in the recent past. Large computer screens dominated where long ago, reams of paper had been. In recent years, we’d also added technology to the mix of safety measures.