by JA Huss
I’ve been asking myself that question all summer. And tonight is the night I might finally get an answer.
Chapter Nineteen - Five
You have got to be kidding me. That’s what I want to say when I’m told about the funeral arrangements for my grandfather.
I expected something lavish. Something very Chinese. Something traditional and foreign. But what I did not expect is another long flight halfway around the world.
“I can read your thoughts, Five,” Chen says as I stand in silence.
He’s dead. I should not be annoyed by his death, but I am. I’m fucking annoyed that I’m his designated heir. I’m fucking annoyed that I came all the way to Hong Kong when so much is happening back in the US. I’m annoyed that Damian’s last wishes were to be buried on a hill at his Rancho Santa Fe home back in Southern California, so this whole trip is a waste.
I’m just… very fucking annoyed right now.
“Don’t let it show,” Chen adds.
I nod, but keep my silence. Nothing good will come from these feelings.
“The body is being prepped for travel. Everyone will be leaving tonight.”
I could’ve been with Rory right now. Getting her away from whatever’s coming. But no. I’m here. Acting petulant. Feeling helpless. And weighed down by tradition and expectations.
“I have you alone on the jet, since you’re the only living family member who will attend.”
The only good thing to come out of this. I took Chen’s advice and called my father. He’s handling my mom. My siblings will not be brought to California for the funeral and my parents will not attend.
This is the only good thing to come out of this… disaster.
“We’re going to lose everything,” Chen says.
“Yeah,” I say. “We are.”
But I don’t care. I don’t care about any of this anymore. I do not want to be the head of this organization, but if I must, then I’m certainly not dragging my brother and sisters along for the ride.
“It doesn’t have to be this way. You could make a show of power—”
“No,” I say, turning to face him. “No.”
I walk out, leaving him behind to finish with the details.
I’m done.
I want one thing. And that’s to set things right with Rory. Everything else can just fuck off.
I find my way to my rooms. There are guards stationed in every hallway of the nearly ten-thousand-square-foot mansion. But they are not my guards. They have no loyalty to me. They belong to him, to his dynasty, and now that’s all gone.
I’m not surprised at all that Chen’s vision of the future, the one that had me taking my grandfather’s place and business resuming as usual, was nothing more than the grandiose fantasy of an aging man who spent nearly his entire life at the top of the food chain, riding the success and prowess of his boss.
They were never going to accept me and they made that very clear a few hours ago when I arrived.
The Chinese Triads are not like the Italian Mob. They are not centralized like a drug cartel, for instance. They are loose, and shifting, and precarious.
And my grandfather managed to grab a hold of one and keep for decades. It’s an astonishing accomplishment. If you call heading a mob an accomplishment.
I’m not sure I do.
Chen has been his closest friend this entire time. Chen is nobody. More nobody than me. At least I have some claim to what my grandfather created here. He has nothing. And he needs me to be accepted. He needs me to take over. He needs me. Or he loses everything. They killed him, for fuck’s sake. They killed my grandfather.
Who?
It doesn’t even matter. It could be any of them. Any of the men in his organization. Any of the other leaders. Maybe even the government. Who knows? Who cares?
You’re next.
That thought has been racing around my brain since the flight.
I’m next. And then who? My mother and father? My little brother? My sisters? Rory? Where do they stop?
I open the door to my room to find… a man standing at the window, looking out at the impressive view of Victoria Harbor.
Annoyance is the only emotion I can muster. “Can I help you with something, Mr. Wen?”
Mr. Wen is my late grandfather’s biggest rival here in Hong Kong, a detective who’s been working to take down the various Triads for over a decade. And I have to reluctantly admit, it seems Chen’s paranoia was well warranted. Because Wen is here. In my rooms. And the guards are right outside.
He bows. Low. Then rights himself and says, in perfect British English, “I’m sorry for your loss.”
“What do you want?”
He doesn’t react. Wen is an older man, but not as old as my grandfather. He’s dignified in a way that says elite boarding schools. “We have a mutual interest.”
“We do not,” I say bluntly as I cross the room, grab the decanter of Scotch from a small side table, and begin to pour before…
“I didn’t touch it,” Wen says, once I catch up with the state of things. “And I didn’t kill your grandfather.”
“No?” I ask, setting the decanter back down. I really need to get out of here. Maybe California isn’t such a bad idea after all.
“No,” Wen says. “His enemies are numerous. As are yours.”
“Are you one of them?” I ask, already tired of his polite charade.
“The most dangerous man is the one with nothing to lose, Mr. Aston.”
“I’ll remember that.”
“It’s not a threat.”
“Wasn’t taken as one. What. Do. You. Want?”
“What we both want,” he says, panning his hands wide. “Peace.”
I raise one annoyed eyebrow.
“I can help you,” he says.
“I doubt that.”
“Sit,” he says. Like this is his apartment and not mine.
I don’t sit.
Wen shrugs, walks over to me, pours himself a drink using the same decanter I just set down, and sips the Scotch. “It’s good.”
“It’s a rare Macallan. It should be.”
“Have one,” he says. Again, like this is his whiskey to offer.
“I’ll pass, thanks.”
Wen shrugs, takes another sip, and then returns to the window, his back to me. “Your princess is in trouble.”
I want to kill him. Right now.
“But it can be fixed,” he says, glancing over his shoulder.
“I’m not going to ask again—”
“I want,” he says, cutting me off, “your help. And a promise.”
“In exchange for what?”
“Plans, Mr. Aston. Their plans. For her. They’re very close. She’s at a party tonight, in fact. So far away from you. Five. But I have men watching closely.”
“And let me guess, she’ll be fine, but only if I give you what you came for.”
“That would be… sophomoric.” He laughs. “No. Tonight’s security is complimentary. But one week from tonight she has another event. Eat Meet?” He says it like a question. “Something particular to Princeton, I think? I don’t know. Whatever it is, it’s important she not go.”
“I can take care of that.”
“No, Mr. Aston, you can’t. You’re the reason they want her.”
I stare at him. And everything I thought I could prevent from happening is suddenly happening.
“But I have a plan. Your grandfather was already on board. That’s why he asked you to bring him that code last summer. All you have to do is say yes to my offer—the same offer he said yes to before they killed him—and things will be right in the world again. So what do you say?” he asks. “Will we be able to make a deal tonight?”
I grab the bottle of Scotch, pour myself a healthy four fingers, and meet him at the window. “Lay it on me, then.”
So he does.
And nothing that comes out of that man’s mouth has anything to do with saving Rory.
Chapter Twenty
- Rory
The main dining hall has been transformed. Tera and I tried to get a look at the dining hall last year for Pledge Night, but we were foiled by last year’s president and quickly admonished and whisked away. But I did get a glimpse of the light sparkling off the chandeliers, and tonight, as I walk through the doors, that’s the first thing I notice.
Tera holds my hand now. Like she’s nervous and needs support. We both look up at the same time to marvel at the dancing patterns of light flickering off the crystal hanging from the ceiling.
“Wow,” Tera whispers.
“Keep up,” Mia snaps, moving forward through the crowd of lingering men and women.
Tera shoots me a look that says she might slap Mia before the night is over, and we try not to giggle as we obey.
All the girls are dressed in silver gowns. Some plain, some elaborate, some in between. But all of them surely have a price tag like mine did. The men are all wearing black on black tuxes with silver ties and silver pocket squares. It’s not a sight I’m used to.
“I feel very out of place,” Tera whispers. “Is that weird?”
“No,” I whisper back. “I feel the same.”
“Do I belong here, Rory?”
I almost stop following Mia, that’s how much her question stuns me. “What? Of course you do. If anyone belongs here, it’s you, right?”
“But…” Tera says, her eyes darting around to see if anyone is paying much attention to us. Not really, I realize. All eyes are on Mia and Kallie, who are walking towards a platform at the head of the room, where all our dates are waiting with a blonde woman I don’t recognize. “But what is this?”
I look at Tera. Like… really look at her. “Don’t you know?”
She shakes her head. And now I see that she’s not nervous, she’s… scared. “Do you?” she asks.
I nod. “I think so. But we can’t talk about it now. Not here. Later, OK?” I squeeze her hand just as we finally make it to the platform steps. We’re to be on stage with Kallie, I deduce. Since we’re part of the officer hierarchy. “Just smile and have a good time. This night isn’t the night we need to worry about.”
She shoots me another nervous glance as we climb the steps to the stage, and then her pairing is there—Brian something—taking her hand and leading her away. She lets go of me, reluctantly, and I have a wave of nausea.
Just keep cool, Princess.
It’s Five’s voice in my head.
“You’re OK.”
I look up and see Frank staring down at me. “What?” I ask, still feeling slightly sick.
“You’re fine, Aurora,” Frank says. “Just take my hand, follow me, and do as you’re told.”
I scrunch up my face at that remark. And the way he calls me Aurora. I hate being called Aurora and anyone who knows me understands that. The Bombshell in me wants to come out. The white-trash biker-bitch farm girl is about to give him a piece of my mind when Kallie whisper-yells, “Aurora, we’re waiting for you.”
That’s when I look out at the crowd. Thirty-eight men and women, all dressed up like this is some kind of backwards silver-anniversary party. And they are all staring at me.
So I smile at Frank Fulbright and let him lead. But I roll my eyes—and in the process of doing that, I lock eyes with the blonde woman standing next to Kallie, which makes her frown.
She’s not wearing silver, she’s wearing white. And she has no man next to her. And even though she’s young—not much older than me, I’d guess—she looks stern. Like a jaded older woman.
“Thank you for joining us, Aurora.”
Did she just seethe my name?
“Thank you all for joining us,” she says, looking at the crowd now. “You’re all here for the same reason. To pledge your loyalty to Palladium House.”
There’s nervous chatter from down on the floor as the girls smile and giggle and the men look smug.
“From this night forward you are one of us.” She lets the word us linger. Like a hiss. Like she’s a snake. Medusa, maybe.
Don’t look at her.
So I don’t. I look at the crowd. And that’s when all the things I thought I knew turn into self-delusional lies. How the hell did I get here? How the hell was I so oblivious for the past three years?
Five would say something like… Because you’re sweet, Rory. And trusting. A princess.
Naive is more like it.
“Please form two lines facing your pairing,” the blonde woman says. “Men on this side and woman on the other.” She turns to us and nods, indicating we should do the same, only we’re to stay up here on stage. Tera scrunches in close to me, Mia is on her left, and Kallie is on the other side of Mia. Frank is across from me, smiling like he’s about to win the lottery.
Hmm. Maybe he is. Not that I’m anything special, especially since he’s practically blue-blood royalty in this country. But in the real world, Frank Fulbright knows he’s not my type. And yet… here I am. Pairing with him.
“Rory,” Tera whispers as the blonde woman continues to talk. I desperately want to concentrate on what she’s saying because this is it, right? The secret. Why we’re all here. What’s coming next… but Tera whispers again, “Rory.” More insistent this time. “Look at what they’re holding in their hands.”
I look down at Frank’s hand to see a ring. With a diamond big enough to sparkle in the dramatic lighting from above. And when I look at the other men up on the platform with us, they’re all holding rings too.
“We really are getting married, aren’t we?” Tera’s voice is shaky. And when she reaches for my hand again, she’s ice cold and trembling.
“No,” I whisper back, turning my head so Frank can’t read my lips. “Don’t be—”
“Tonight,” the blonde woman says, interrupting me, “you will pledge your loyalty to Palladium by pledging your life to your pairing.”
Everyone realizes what’s happening in that moment. Because all the girls begin to squeal as all the men drop down on one knee.
I look at Tera. She’s squeezing my hand so hard, it hurts. Just smile, I mouth. She nods, paints one on, and then I force myself to follow my own advice.
I am not marrying Frank Fulbright. No. Fucking. Way.
But this can’t be a wedding. Next week—Eat Meet—that’s the wedding, I realize. This is just the engagement.
“Gentlemen,” the blonde woman says. “Commence your pledges.”
The room erupt with speech. Coordinated speech. Memorized speech. The question.
“Will you, Aurora Shrike,” Frank says, and every man in the room says it with him, substituting the name of their pairing for mine, “pair with me in the name of Palladium House?”
That’s it. One simple question. Not ‘will you marry me,’ which is a relief, even though they’re asking the same thing. ‘Will you pair with me?”
And every woman looks at the diamond rings being held out to them from the men at their feet, and gasps.
Even me. Even Tera. Even Mia. Because none of us knew this was coming.
Kallie’s voice rings out in the momentary silence of the cathedral-sized room. A resounding, “Yes.”
And we all repeat the same answer.
Even me. Even Tera.
Because what choice do we have in this moment? Make a scene? Why would we do that? We’re standing in the most elite eating club at Princeton University, facing the most elite men, with the most promising futures, and we are being asked to join them in their quest for greatness.
So this is how it’s done? This is how American royalty is made.
I feel very stupid as Frank slips that engagement ring on my finger. I feel very naive, and small, and silly. Because all my life I thought people married for love.
But they don’t. They marry for status. For power. And money.
The room erupts in cheers as the men stand and pull us towards them.
The music starts and we are dancing. His hand has mine. The other is wrapped around my waist, gripping it t
ightly, trying to possess me as we twirl.
I say nothing. Just smile as the room spins and spins and spins.
There’s no way in hell I will spend the rest of my life as Mrs. Frank Fulbright.
I’d rather die.
Chapter Twenty-One - Five
Chen is looking at me weird. “What?” I ask.
“Why was Wen here?”
He might’ve gotten in undetected, but he didn’t leave that way. I escorted him out, shook his hand in the driveway, and when I turned around, there was a crowd waiting for an explanation.
Which I did not provide.
Chen isn’t leaving my apartment until he gets an answer, so I pour us each a drink, hand him one, and take it to the window.
He follows me and we stare out at Victoria Harbor at night. “It’s very pretty here,” I say.
“Cut the shit, Five. What the hell was Wen doing here? And how did he get in?”
“In?” I ask. “I have no idea. But he was here to offer me a deal.”
“There is no deal you can offer. You’re not in charge yet.”
“Right,” I say, looking over at him to smile. “And with any luck I never will be.”
Chen frowns. “You will be. If you don’t fuck it up by inviting your grandfather’s mortal enemy to his home. Now what did he want?”
“What all men want, Chen. More power.”
“And you gave it to him?” Chen’s face is red with anger. “What kind of—”
“I didn’t give him shit,” I say. “As you just pointed out, I don’t have that ability yet.”
“But you’re thinking about it?”
“I don’t know what to think right now. My grandfather is dead and you have no answers for me. On top of that, I’m somewhere I’d rather not be. I can’t go home or even leave this house until you tell me to. I’m practically a prisoner.”
“You knew what this was when your grandfather brought you in.”
“I was nine,” I say, trying very hard not to seethe those words. “You can’t expect a nine-year-old child to make a life decision like that.”
Chen is silent, so I continue.