Until Her - Ami Van Page 0,3

keep the asshole humble. Chase’s inflated ego can fill all wings of the mansion. Chase believes he’s untouchable, no matter how much he’s warned the younger King to take it down a notch. He worries there won’t be a woman on the planet—maybe in the whole solar system—who can tame the beast he and Derrick created with Chase.

He and Derrick have never considered having families of their own living this life but they’d always had hopes that their younger brothers would get the happily ever after they deserved. Now, Derrick’s married with a son.

And he’s doing the whole single father thing. Go figure.

As for Rory? He’s starting to realize that Ro isn’t the scared little boy who used to crawl into his bed at night seeking comfort as any child who’s lost both parents much too young would. As of late, it’s becoming more and more clear that he isn’t able to give Rory whatever it is the youngest King is seeking. The worst part? He doesn’t know how to exactly help Rory either.

His only reprieve is Jazzy.

Then again, at ten years old, she’s already starting to spread her wings and wanting more independence. She spends more time with Pam and Stella nowadays and eventually, his baby girl will start keeping secrets from him. She’ll start asking for girl advice that he won’t be able to provide.

He sighs out loud. Much too loudly.

The point is, what’s given him purpose within the family is slowly but surely slipping away. People grow, they change. And well…the Kings are a well-oiled machine on the streets and within their castle.

He leans forward on the desk and peruses the various folders for the rest of the morning. Signing too much paperwork. Going through various legalese until he finally reaches the contract for their new security system.

“Is this what the two mercs suggested?” he asks Mason.

Mason picks up the same colored file folder off of his desk and browses through. “Yeah,” Mason answers. “It’s top of the line and on its own offsite server.”

“Will the server have its own firewall and backup power supply?” he asks.

“Yeah, Boss. Elias will work with the tech team to set the system up when he gets back,” Mason answers.

He takes the time to go over the numbers. Yes, he’s good with the numbers too. Thank God because the other Kings don’t give a shit about their bottom line. Derrick does what he does to stay on top. Chase, though he has a good head for business, really could care less about their bottom line. He’s more of the spoiled middle child here. Rory would give away their house to some poor schmuck with a sob story if someone didn’t stop him. And Stella? Her fucking shoe closet can feed an entire village…for a decade.

He wouldn’t change any of them though.

He glances across the desk at the framed pictures. Derrick was never the sentimental type before but Stella tends to have her way with him anyway. He gives a quick scoff at their last family Christmas photo with everyone and their matching pajamas. Yeah, he succumbed and went along with it…again. He didn’t really mind but he wouldn’t admit it to another soul. Not even Derrick.

He lets out a loud sigh when he zeroes in on his cousin’s face in the photo. Carter left with his love, Emilia Ivanov, and her family to Russia. It’s worrisome because things within the Ivanov’s organization are still tumultuous. However, Carter is where he wants to be with the woman he loves. Who is he to put a stick in that?

He rubs his eyes with his fingers and pinches the bridge of his nose when he picks up the black file folder. He can’t put this file off any longer. It’s the shared file between the Kings, Cael McCullen, and Ben Gaston. It’s the file folder sharing responsibility for the events that happened a few months ago.

Bills need to be paid. Cops need their kids’ tuition paid. Hospitals need anonymous donations to make sure their filing systems glitched. It’s all fucking hush money. Everything becomes a blur while he peruses the names, the pictures, and the information in front of him. It’s all part of the life.

“Boss,” Mason calls for his attention.

He looks up without saying a word but simply quirking a single brow.

“Don Mazzilli is on the phone,” Mason says with unease. This surprises him because, during his mundane business of signing off on shit, he didn’t even hear the phone ring.

“What? Did you

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