Vale clenched his fists, closing his eyes on Chicago’s downtown lights. He stood there taking in the view from the living room of the suite he shared with Humphrey and Stone.
Relegated to a bystander. It took everything in him to remain calm, seated and listening to his father passing the idea off as his own. He remained calm when he wanted to rage. It was in that moment that he sensed his ‘uselessness’ evolving into patience.
It wasn’t the kind of patience that would keep him waiting on the sidelines. This would be an active patience-one that would fortify the gift all last borns had over their predecessors-longevity.
Even from the sidelines, he could make his waiting count. Humphrey. He would come into his own as the head of their father’s company and Vale would be there when he stepped aside. Sure, there were many others before him, but Vale was confident of his succession after Humphrey.
Aaron. He was too noble for the business. His heart would ache for everyone he couldn’t get a fair shake for. He’d lose his interest in trying.
Stone...Vale glanced back toward the closed door where his brother’s voice rose and fell. He’d been on the phone for the last 20 minutes. Stone would be...controllable. As for Gabe, he was more interested in fucking everything in a skirt than worrying about the business. As long as the money flowed, he wouldn’t care who sat at the helm to bring it in.
Pitch...the dark child.
Vale returned to studying the view. Pitch would never take the head of the company. Not only would Humphrey never allow it, their mother would be a vicious enemy. Luckily, Pitch was already well-versed in what an adversary Athena Tesano could be.
This left Roman. The favorite. Vale’s mouth thinned into a brutal slash. His hatred for Roman surpassed even what he held for Pitch.
Roman... he was the difference between the youngest and last born. Many often forgot their mother even had a sixth born. They always referred to Roman as the youngest. The youngest-the one that was capable of outshining all who had come before. The youngest could succeed where others had failed. Hadn’t Roman already proven as much? He’d succeeded at anything he tried, things so far beyond Vale’s realm of comprehension they were ludicrous to attempt. The jackass had been offered full scholarships to well over ten schools-athletic and academic. Naturally, the bastard wasn’t interested.
Opportunities most had to fight for, dripped down to Roman like water. Girls all but threw themselves at his feet. If the guy’s dick ruled his mind, he could easily outrun Gabriel as the family slut. Vale could recall his own conversations with the fairer sex. Those interludes abruptly ended the moment Roman stepped into the room. He would make an appearance only for the briefest moment, speaking to few and barely making eye contact. Still...conversing with a girl was a moot point for Vale afterward.
He shrugged off the sour memories. He had the rest of his brothers figured and yet Roman remained an enigma. Nevertheless, Vale had discovered his patience. It would serve him well. Everyone had a weakness. Roman was no exception.
Vale believed he was the exception. He would surpass his brothers. He would make his moves in shadow, orchestrating events that would ultimately play in his favor.
They would never see him coming.
~26~
Two Days Later...
Imani’s laughter curbed on a hiccup when she saw Roman standing before the elevator doors once they’d opened. He spared her a moment’s glance before approaching her father.
“Apologies, Chief Kamande, I um, the front desk said you were on the way down with your daughter,” Roman’s deep-set gaze shifted. “May I talk to Imani, Sir?”
Hilar Kamande’s expression proved he had already sensed the tension between his daughter and the intense young Italian. He took no issue with giving the matter a chance to resolve itself. The young man had shown his integrity once. Kamande didn’t believe it was an act. Still, he chose to defer the final decision.
“Imani?” Kamande queried, smiling thinly when his daughter offered a quick nod. “Alright then,” he looked to the long corridor off from the elevator. “I’ll just be in the dining room.”
Kamande left them. Roman glanced at a nearby settee and gestured to encourage Imani to proceed him.
She was dressed simply yet elegantly for the lunch meal with her father. The floor length creation of gray cotton covered almost every inch of her from the choke collar to its bell sleeves that partially covered her hands. She had loosened a few of her braids at the back of her head. The loosened strands were straightened and hung in a long flip to one side of her face.
Roman believed he could have watched her forever, but he wouldn’t belittle the moment with her by gawking. He had belittled her enough already.
“Imani, I’m sorry,” he blurted the words, the pressure to say them too unbearable then.
More stumped than stunned, Imani thought it best to wait until Roman had revealed more of what fueled his desperate apology. She only hoped her expression didn’t betray how dumbfounded she was.
“What happened the other day down at the elevator, I-I um...I never should have-not like-like that I...hell,” he sighed, resting elbows to knees while pulling both hands through his hair.
Imani watched the dense, thick tufts tumble from their disarray. She recalled how his hair felt when it was her fingers tunnelling through it. Her eyes widened as understanding dawned.
“You weren’t ready for that,” he was saying, “to be kissed that way and I...I knew that. You say you’ve been kissed before but I know you’ve never been kissed like that.”
“Roman-”
“I’ve done things with enough girls to know and I-shit-fuck,” he clenched a fist near his temple, wincing before he launched another apology for cursing.
He was staring at the floor and not at her, so Imani didn’t worry about letting a smile bend her lips. She’d guarded her expression by the time his tortured eyes returned to her face.
“Please say something, heiress. I shouldn’t have taken advantage, but I had you in my hands and I-” he put his head down again, “I’m sorry Imani.”
“I’m not.”
Her words were nearly whisper soft, but Roman heard them clear as glass. Again, his eyes were searching hers with unmistakable disbelief.
“There you are, shitbag! I been lookin’ everywhere.”
The disbelief in Roman’s eyes glazed over with pure venom when he turned it on Pitch. Pitch, however, had already dismissed his brother and was staring at the girl seated next to him.
“Is this her?” Pitch sounded as dazed as he appeared.
Roman cursed again and sighed. “Imani Kamande, my brother Vicarus Tesano. Pitch, this is Imani.”
Pitch gave his brother an uncertain look. “Do I bow?”
“No, idiot,” Roman’s voice was a growl.
