CHAPTER ONE
“EITHER DIE OR abdicate. I’m not particular about which one you choose, but you’d better make a decision, and quickly.”
Alexander Drakos, heir to the throne of Kyonos, dissolute rake and frequent gambler, took a drag on his cigarette before putting it out in the ashtray and dropping his cards onto the velvet-covered table.
“I’m a little busy right now, Stavros,” he said into his phone.
“Doing what? Throwing away your fortune and drinking yourself into a stupor?”
“Don’t be an idiot. I don’t drink when I gamble. I don’t lose, either.” He eyed the men sitting around the table and pushed a pile of chips into the pot.
“A shame. If you did, then maybe you would have had to come home a long time ago.”
“Yeah, well, you haven’t seemed to need me.”
It was time for the cards to go down, and those who hadn’t folded earlier on in the round put their hands face up.
Xander laughed and revealed his royal flush before leaning in and sweeping the chips into his stack. “I’m cashing out,” he said, standing and putting his chips into a velvet bag. “Enjoy your evening.” He took his black suit jacket off the back of the chair and slung it over his shoulder.
He passed a casino employee and dropped the bag into the man’s hands. “I know how much is in there. Cash me out. Five percent for you, no more.”
He stopped at the bar. “Scotch. Neat.”
“I thought you didn’t drink while you gambled,” his brother said.
“I’m not gambling anymore.” The bartender pushed the glass his way and Xander knocked it back before continuing out of the building and onto one of Monaco’s crowded streets.
Strange. The alcohol barely burned anymore. It didn’t make him feel good, either. Stupid alcohol.
“Where are you?”
“Monaco. Yesterday I was in France. I think that was yesterday. It all sort of blurs together, you know?”
“You make me feel old, Xander, and I am your younger brother.”
“You sound old, Stavros.”
“Yes, well, I didn’t have the luxury of running out on my responsibilities. That was your course of action and that meant someone had to stay behind and be a grown-up.”
He remembered well what had happened the day he’d taken that luxury. Running out on his responsibilities, as Stavros called it.
You killed her. This is your fault. You’ve stolen something from this country, from me. You can never replace it. I will never forgive you.
Damn.
Now that that memory had surfaced another shot or four would be required.
“I’m sure the people will build a statue in your honor someday and it will all be worth it,” Xander said.
“I didn’t call to engage in small talk with you. I would rather strangle myself with my own necktie.”