This new part of our courtship had been growing since my move. The first night after our dinner, Rett had said goodnight to me at the door. Last night, he’d entered the suite for a short time.
A grin came to my lips. “I’m not sure you’re used to the word no, so I won’t push it.” I gestured toward the long chair, wide enough for two. This suite had many things; a place for entertaining wasn’t one. “Shall we sit?”
After Rett removed his suit coat and turned off the lights and I slipped out of my high heels, we both situated ourselves on the chaise. With the ceiling open and the night sky overhead, we stared upward. The setting of the sun had lowered the temperature. Still wearing the dress I’d chosen for dinner, I curled into Rett’s side.
His arm behind my back pulled me closer. “I like this.”
I scoffed. “I’m sure you don’t.”
His warm breath teased my cheek and hair. “You’re wrong. I like having you close.”
Again, I reached for his hand. “Will you tell me about the ring?”
For longer than I expected, the library filled with a silent pause, one that lingered as the stars through the ceiling skylight came to life in the black velvet sky. As I was about to comment, Rett began.
“This ring belonged to my father.” He turned his hand this way and that. “I quite honestly never intended to wear it.”
Part of me wanted to interrupt, to ask questions, but as he spoke, I heard more than Rett’s words. His story didn’t stop there. There were clues in his pauses and meaning in the tone and timbre of his offering. Instead of speaking, I curled closer, laid my head on his shoulder, and waited for more.
“Most people would assume I hated my father. I am, after all, the reason he’s dead.”
I couldn’t not look up. “You are?”
“I told you once that I sold my soul to become the devil.”
“You said that your father and my father decided they couldn’t co-rule anymore. You said they both succumbed to their injuries. I assumed the injuries were inflicted by one another.”
“Some have assumed as much. After all this is New Orleans and truth seldom overcomes lore. Nevertheless, that wasn’t what happened. Those who are important know the truth.”
“I don’t understand.”
Rett sighed and laid his head back on the chair. Though he was looking upward, I had the sense that he was seeing another time. He went on, “I told you that both Abraham Ramses and Isaiah Boudreau underestimated their opponent. I was their opponent. Neither realized what was happening. My father assumed I was present in that warehouse as his son, his second, and the person who had his back. You see, Emma, to rule New Orleans, I couldn’t be second. The cost of my position was our fathers’ lives. I’d considered every possible scenario where my father would live.” He stilled for a moment. “I didn’t hate him.” His head shook. “There was no alternative. Nothing short of his death would have worked.”
I didn’t respond. Truly words weren’t forming as I let Rett’s confession settle into my consciousness.
He reached for my chin, and turned it toward him. “This shouldn’t be a shock, Emma. Have I ever led you to believe I’m a good man?”
“Not in words, Rett, but in actions.”
“I kill and steal. It’s what I do.”
I shook my head. “You aren’t the monster you profess. The mythical creature with red skin, horns, and a pitched fork wouldn’t have saved me when I ran; he wouldn’t make me feel special, offer me hope, or give me a key. You may see yourself as the devil, but I don’t.”
“Even after the other day?”
I kill and steal—it was what he’d just said.
The other day he stole or took.
I inhaled. “You’re not perfect.” I lifted his hand. “But neither am I.” I looked up at the sky and sighed. “Can you explain how that meeting ended in their deaths?”
“I don’t care to relive it.” Before I could respond, he went on, “I can tell you that it was an unlikely chain of events. There had been problems in the world they ruled. Without details, there are networks that require protection and promises that must be kept. Things were getting out of hand with a supplier of...a product. Rumors flew that pit my father against yours. I wasn’t convinced that the time was right to go forward with my plan, but at the same time, the opportunity presented itself and I took it—stole it. Your father was the one who called the meeting.”
“Did you do it alone?”
“I didn’t. While I’m the one who sits on the throne, taking and keeping that throne requires support. I’d been working toward the coup and had soldiers strategically set.”
I wasn’t certain what made me think of my next question. There were so many conflicting thoughts in my mind. Yet before I could consider my question’s ramifications, I asked, “Did your mother know?”