Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 78155 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78155 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
“You didn’t have to,” she said as she grabbed it by the neck. “But you know I love wine, so…” She smiled and placed it on the counter, and one of her staff immediately uncorked it and poured a couple glasses. She read the bottle. “1883. That was a great harvest.” Aunt Charlotte was at least a decade younger than my uncle. And on top of that, she looked young for her age, probably because she didn’t smoke like the rest of us.
“Is Jacques here?”
“No. He said he was busy at the office.” She made this face like things weren’t perfect in paradise.
All I did was nod.
My uncle had one son, who he expected to run the business at his side. But Jacques had decided to choose his own path in life, becoming an accountant for a large financial institution in Paris. His wife was a stay-at-home mom, and they had one daughter. Uncle Baptiste mentioned it from time to time, sour that his son decided to be “a pussy instead of a man.” Those were his words, not mine.
“How are you, Luca?”
Aliénor was the first thing that popped into my head. A woman I’d only known for a couple of weeks but had left a permanent mark on my skin where everyone could see. I felt her with me when she was nowhere in sight, like I was responsible for her, even at a distance. “Busy with work.”
She nodded. “Your uncle’s life story…”
“What was that, sweetheart?” Uncle Baptiste entered the room and showed Aunt Charlotte some playful anger before he gave her a gentle pat on the ass. “My boy.” His eyes lit up at the sight of me, and he gave me a hard hug. “Are you taller?”
“No. Just bigger.” I pushed myself in the gym every day. Every time I reached a new threshold, I worked to overcome it. When I wasn’t hungry but needed more protein, I had Andre make me another shake. I felt like I’d reached my plateau now because if I got any bigger, it would start to look disproportional.
My uncle chuckled and clapped me on the shoulder. “Let’s eat. I’m fucking starving.”
We gathered at the dining table, the three of us, and the servants brought our first course, a small green salad. The wine flowed, and there was a basket of fresh bread in the center.
“What’s going on with you?” Baptiste asked, scarfing down the small salad in a couple of bites then taking half the bread from the center.
“Well, you were right about the Aristocrats.”
“Psychopaths.” He looked to his wife. “What did I tell you?”
“Yes, dear.” She continued to eat like she had no interest in this.
“Guess who dropped by unannounced?” I finished the salad just as quickly because there wasn’t much on the plate.
My uncle gave a shrug. “Don’t leave me hanging.”
“Constantine. Came all the way up here.”
“Did he?” he asked, eyebrows raised.
I nodded.
He took a beat as he stared. “He’s pissed about the Vatican Museum…”
“Yes.”
“Does he know it was them?”
I nodded.
The servants entered the room and took away the salads. They placed soups there instead, unaffected by the subject matter of the conversation.
“He said he wants everything returned to the museum—and he wants the heads of those who did it.”
Baptiste grabbed his wine and took a long drink. “What are you going to do?”
I shook my head. “No idea.”
“What retaliation did he threaten?”
“Tariffs on pretty much everything.”
He shared a look with me like this was insane news. “Wow, he’s got the president involved in this.”
“The Vatican is their holy seat. They’re deeply offended.”
“But the actions of some weirdos don’t mean the entire country should be punished.”
“He said as the leader of the Fifth Republic, it’s my responsibility to monitor all criminal activity, so I’m just as guilty as the nutcases who did this. Even though they only took French pieces.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know.” The Aristocrats had been eviscerated by Bastien, but of course, they rebuilt like a colony of ants. Our strained relationship continued in this new era of their organization. If I provoked them like this, there was no way it would end amicably. “I’ll set up a meeting and see where it goes from there. If I can convince them to grovel at Constantine’s feet, perhaps I could spare their lives.”
“Why spare their lives at all?”
“I don’t want to be their enemy forever. And technically, they didn’t violate the Fifth Republic, so I should be defending them rather than sending them to their deaths. I should prioritize my relationship with my own rather than out them to a foreigner.”
“An Emperor is not an enemy you want to have. Not just because of the tariffs, which is a two-way street, by the way, but because of the effect it will have on the drug trade through the Mediterranean.”