◆ A New Revelation ◆

Nice, France

◆ MILES ◆

"Been friends with Archambault a long time?"

"A while," the short-haired man in the collared shirt replied.  He gave me and Ricchar a grin that didn't narrow his pale green eyes.

Or were they gray?  Whatever. Who gives a shit. I only checked to see if he and Kel shared any other physical resemblance aside from their height, slim build, and dark hair.

This rich businessman—slash firstborn son of a wealthier drug lord—also looked like a regular at the gym.  He must be 6'4" at least. Taller than me, Nicco, and Ricchar. The guy's overall appearance somewhat intimidated me when I shook his hand earlier.  Then we sat down with his wife and ordered some food.

"You trust him with your life kind of friend?" Ricchar chuckled as he kept staring at our  company of one.

"Excuse me. Phone call." Niccolo got up and gave me a 'Fuck! it's Stefano!' kind of look. Then he walked off with his phone, seeming bothered by an incoming call.

It must be Pappa, growing impatient and about to ask about our exact location.  Downright paranoid now.  Like his sadistic and murderous business partner.

"Not all the time." Magnus faked a little laugh that thinned out his deep and quite commanding voice. "Archambault's straight and narrow as they come. He's been CIO for five years now."

"That so?"

"His guys are harder to bribe than the rest, but they do get the job done. Most of the time."

"You've tried greasing their palms?"

"Not really." Magnus smirked at me. "But I know of dozens of people who want Leandro and his entire clan in the clink." He took a sip of his iced lemonade. "My vindictive father included."

"You talk to him often?"

"Ilya? On the contrary."

"Why not?" Ricchar asked.

Magnus chuckled after faintly shaking his head.  "We loathe each other most of the year."

"I see." Ricchar matched his fake laugh.  Sitting beside me and next to Nicco's empty seat, Ricchar  sliced his bloody-looking rib eye, looking chill and believably hungry. Like he couldn't care less that he was sitting in front of the man whose father's gunslingers almost got Cloe killed.

To strangers who had no idea who Magnus Roiz was, the guy looked like just another tourist.  Tanned skin.  Sneakers.  Boring white shirt.  Jeans.

Pretty low-key for a billionaire's son.  The guy wasn't even wearing a Rolex.  His wife, Evonne, a slim and fair-skinned brunette who looked to be in her late 30s, wore a long black dress and just left the table after excusing herself.  The phone call was from her "terribly insomniac brother", she said.  Now she stood in the narrow hallway leading to the restrooms with her back to us.

"My half-brothers tried to kill me once,  if that helps paint a clearer picture." Magnus grabbed his glass and wore a crooked grin.  It drew tiny curves beside his watchful eyes. He looked older than me and Nicco, but not much older than Ricchar.

"You heard he tried to kill my wife?"

"Yes."

I leaned forward and pretended to enjoy my caviar-studded salmon, just listening in. I wasn't wearing a wire, but my gun strapped to my hip was just waiting to be used.

The man might have something else to say about his father's most heinous crimes.  Or Ilya's next plans.  Or a new warning from Ilya himself.

That soulless killer might be lurking out there right now, merely waiting for us to let our guard down. This might be an elaborate ruse for all we know.

I glanced around us again.  Not a lot of customers today.  Barely half of the resto looked busy with hungry folks.  With our table in the dim corner, privacy wasn't such an issue.

"I apologize," Magnus sighed while we stayed quiet and kept eating.  For a complete stranger who hardly knew my family, he sounded mostly sincere.  "Ilya's not one to say sorry, but do send my apologies and regards to Cloe."

Oh.  So he also knew all about that ambush near our estate.  I eyed him as my hand clasped my cold glass.

Maybe his insane father even gloated to him about it. Did Magnus find out about what Ricchar did? That he paid and manipulated one of Ilya's favorite whores to poison him?  Multiple times, I heard.

"Your friend's offer was quite generous." Ricchar cleared his throat.

"You two made a deal?"

"Nicco gave him enough proof, to prove that Ignazio and Leandro help run the trafficking ring," Ricchar droned on.  "Enough to implicate Stefano as an accomplice, too."

I gripped my glass and took a sip of my wine.  This had better not ruin our plans.  I didn't expect we came all the way out here just to willingly divulge our secrets to the enemy's son.

"Did he at least offer you some type of blanket immunity?" Magnus frowned at Ricchar.

"If I testify against them."

"The Tomassinis and Stefano?"

"And all the big names on the manifests."

"Now or never, I suppose." Magnus shrugged casually before taking a bite of his dessert.  "For whatever it's worth, I think it's great. That you're both stepping up, and now  cleaning up the family business."

"My wife wants me to do something about it." Ricchar lifted his glass of wine to take a quick gulp.

"How's she doing, if I may ask?" Magnus feigned a slightly more concerned tone.

"Good," Ricchar muttered.  "She's with her family. About to pop any day now."

"Wow. Congratulations."

"Thanks."

"Evonne was hoping Cloe could join us." With a faint smile that showed his white teeth, Magnus sat back and watched his wife from afar.  "My wife can't tolerate shop talk these days. Must be the hormones. We're trying to get pregnant, too."

"Best of luck." Ricchar raised his wine glass for a second and took another sip.

"It's giving her more anxiety than usual, but, she badly wants a little one soon."

"It does get tricky. We had to try IVF," Ricchar sighed.  "Didn't work the first time. Cloe almost said yes to surrogacy after she miscarried twice."

"Sorry to hear."

"When's the last time you saw Ilya? Is it true he's ill?"

"Not a while ago. He's not stuck on his deathbed, but,  his health seems to be deteriorating."

Keeping my mouth shut,  I sat back and poked my food with the heavy fork as their conversation went on.  I didn't really give a shit if Ilya died today.  Right now I just had to make sure that greedy mobster was no longer hellbent on interfering in Mykaela's life.

"Cancer?" Ricchar asked.

"No idea yet." Magnus leaned closer to the table and pulled a face. "His oldest doctor suggests it could've been heavy metal poisoning."

Did he also think someone deliberately poisoned his father?  Should I pull out my gun now?

"So no one's staying in your estate at the moment?"

"Just the maids and guards," Ricchar replied.

Magnus nodded faintly. "I figured."

"Nicco told you he's been there several times?" Ricchar glanced up from his plate to stare at Magnus again.

"Not really. Was it your parents' estate?"

"Yes."

"You happen to own an old labyrinth out there? Your estate's in the countryside. Correct?"

An awkward few seconds lingered before Ricchar spoke again. "Why do you ask?"

"Just curious." Magnus gave us a slanted grin.  "I dreamt about it recently."

"Dreamt?" I repeated.  Was he joking? Or just making up stories and lying to our faces?

"If Ilya's a real pureblood vamp, then you're essentially the same?" Ricchar placed his wine glass beside his almost empty plate.

"My mother was Lykan," Magnus said with another forced smile.  "I'm a hybrid, for lack of a better word."

"Right." Ricchar scoffed. "Explains the scent I caught."

I looked to Ricchar.  I knew his nose was abnormally sensitive but how did he know how someone with  Lykan blood smelled?

"Sorry about your mother."

"Old news," Magnus said with a slight shrug. He reclined in his seat while squinting at Ricchar.  "You're the only pureblood vamp I've met with a very discerning nose."

"Hyperosmia. My mother was the same. So, Ilya married a pureblood Lykan?"

"Let's just say I was an unwanted accident." Magnus chuckled.

While my leg stayed restless under the table, I eyed him and minded his response.  I doubted his reaction was purely due to a warped sense of humor, but the guy seemed authentically comfortable sharing his family's biggest secrets with us.  As if we were childhood friends.  "What does he want with Mykaela?" I clenched my fist near my gun.

"Ilya? Not sure, to be honest." Magnus picked up his fork again to stab the slice of blueberry cake on his plate. "I guess he just wants to introduce her to the family." He snickered. "He's sentimental like that."

Bullshit.  Why would a billionaire mob boss suddenly take an interest in his illegitimate daughter who hadn't seen him in 25 years?

"He thinks he's dying and suddenly grew a conscience?" I faked a small laugh and took a sip of my bitter drink.  Not my favorite.  But it might help me sleep through this stupid jetlag headache, and these pain attacks taunting me to empty my bottle of pills again.

"Your guess is as good as mine." Magnus grinned at me for a moment. "Do you know he and your father are cousins?"

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