Obsidian Son (The Temple Chronicles Book 1) (13 page)

I nodded at him. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Locke. Be welcome in my home.” Dean glided closer to the wall, blending in like a piece of furniture, trying not to disturb the Master and his guests, but ready to serve in any capacity I required at the drop of a hat. I studied Mr. Locke. “What firm do you represent?”

He blinked in surprise. “None, Master Temple. I worked exclusively for your father after our first interaction.”

“Then you must be a very adequate lawyer, Mr. Locke. My father wasn’t easily impressed.”

He nodded humbly in answer. “May I ask how you knew my profession?”

“What other profession would deem to speak with me so urgently after my parents’ deaths?” I smiled coldly. “Now, what is the purpose of this mysterious meeting I unknowingly called everyone to attend? I abhor unknowns, yet here I find myself wading in a plethora of them.” My tone filled the room. Smiles lowered, and Mr. Locke gestured toward a semicircle of chairs before the desk. “If you could please take a seat, Master Temple, I have pledged to share your parents Last Will and Testament.”

I inwardly groaned. On top of the funeral, this was the nail in the coffin, so to speak. It was so real now. They were dead. I was alone. I mustered my resolve so no one would see my weakness. They each began to take a seat, and I paused, realizing there were not enough chairs. I began walking to the side of the room to pull up another, but Dean hissed for my ears only. “Master Temple. Do not abase yourself so!” He flicked a discreet finger at my father’s chair behind the desk. I opened my mouth to object, and Dean revealed a serrated blade in his deft fingers. “Tires,” was all he said. No one else had noticed. I smiled and nodded, approaching the chair behind the desk with trepidation and an overwhelming sense of foolishness, like a nine-year-old child putting on his father’s shoes. Slowly, I descended into the worn leather, waiting for someone to declare me an imposter. I fought to keep my face blank.

The three seated before me grew tense, watching me as if a rabid lion had been let loose in the room. Dean oozed approval as he glided up a few paces behind me, in full view of the three subjects before his Master Temple. Jesus, I didn’t belong here, regardless of what Dean thought. I tried to sound like my father. “Would anyone care for refreshments?” Each of their eyes cautiously settled on the drinks already sitting on coasters before them, but they didn’t speak. “Ah, of course. Thank you, Dean.”

My butler nodded as he set a perfectly weighted glass of scotch in front of me. I leaned back, taking a pleasurable sip, having no fucking clue what I was supposed to be doing. I could dance with the best of them when I knew the game, but my father’s game made me look a fool. I felt as if I should know a different language for this. I decided to stop pretending. I didn’t want to live in my father’s shadow. I would simply be myself.

“Well, since I am the only one in the dark here, why don’t we just cut straight to the point? You obviously want my permission to do something, or you are expecting me to tell you that I will pick up right where my parents left off. Well, I can quickly dissuade you of any false assumptions. I will
not
be taking over the company, and you will
not
use me as a phony symbol of the company to increase shareholder value. I am
not
my father. I am sure that Miss Belmont is fully capable of running Temple Industries, or she wouldn’t have been promoted to her position. By all means, please finish your drinks in peace, and Dean will escort you out as soon as you are ready.” I took a sip of my drink, and leaned forward, baring my teeth in a smile.

A heavy silence blanketed the room. Dean sighed disapprovingly, but I ignored all of it. Mr. Locke spoke up first. “If I may be so bold…” I waved a hand, setting my glass down for fear of shattering it in my clenching fist. “You remind me very much of your father, more so than you might believe. Please understand that what I am about to say comes word-for-word from your parents’ lips. I have it written and notarized if you would prefer?” I didn’t blink, burning him with my eyes, and very seriously contemplating a dangerous display of magic to quickly evacuate my guests. But remembering that Mallory was here, I chose against the latter, unsure if he would simply make me look like a pouting child.

“Proceed.” I said.

He withdrew a closed envelope from his briefcase, broke the rather impressive seal on the outside, and handed a small letter from inside to each person in the room, including Dean. As he handed me mine, I unleashed a thought and it burned to ashes in my hand. “Not interested.” I said coldly. Ashley inhaled sharply, leaning away as if I might bite. Mallory watched me with disapproving eyes, discreetly shaking his head.

Mr. Locke didn’t even hesitate, reaching back into his bag to withdraw another letter. “How many copies do you have?” I growled.

He looked embarrassed. “Your father warned me of your… disdain for authority. I have brought enough copies to be sure that you read one in its entirety.” I sighed in defeat, nodding for him to read it aloud. He held it firmly, his hand quivering slightly as he began to read:

Nathin Laurent Temple,

Please do not do anything rash, my Son. I have asked my good friend, Turner Locke, to read this aloud, as I am unsure of it’s safety in your hands at this emotional juncture. Mr. Locke has several copies in case this one happens to be destroyed prior to complete evocation.

Typical of my father.

Two items of importance must be discussed. I wish you to assume control of Chateau Falco, as we both know it cannot and must not fall into Regular hands. It is a legacy of our family, and must be preserved. Everything on the grounds has already been transferred to your name, and whether you sign the deed or not, measures have been taken, bribes paid, to see that my wish comes to fruition regardless of your wishes.

Mr. Locke has three rather small gifts to bestow upon you at this time.

Mr. Locke reached inside the envelope, and produced three small, plastic credit cards, each a different color. He handed them over to me. On the back of each was a post-it-note with a number… followed by much too many zeroes.
Small gifts
, but oh so big at the same time. My eyes grew large, but Mr. Locke continued.

The numbers are approximations, as you fully comprehend compounding interest.

Second point. If you do not assume ownership of Temple Industries, it will be sold, along with all of its patents, to a dozen competitors in China. This will create a massive job vacuum in the city of St. Louis, our founding heritage town, and a rather unhappy reaction from the Mayor, Senators, and Representatives. A letter has also been sent to the President of the United States, warning of this possibility. You will most likely be shunned by the entire city you live in, and Plato’s Cave will no doubt drown in the bad publicity.

I regret informing you of my decision like this, but your mother and I wanted you to chase your own dreams while able. Temple Industries is much too vast to leave out of the family’s control. It must pass on with you. We respect and applaud your decision not to join the company sooner, having time to pursue your own business with Plato’s Cave. We couldn’t be more proud of you, Nathin. You are the apple of our garden, and we hope you will always remember that. Try and bring your unique light to your new company.

Know that Chateau Falco was like a child to us all, witnessing many family secrets and stories never before uttered aloud. All one must do is listen to discover those secrets…

With all the love in the world,

Your Mother and Father.

Always the last word. Turner handed me the letter. A drop of blood stood below each name, and an elegant signature flourished beneath each name. My eyes watered and my shoulders sagged. My voice was dry. He was right. Damn it. “Very well. I humbly stand corrected. This is much bigger than myself. I accept.” The tension in the room evaporated. Ashley’s shoulders sagged with relief, but I couldn’t fathom why. I feared that I was about to drive Temple Industries in a new direction all right, and faster than anyone thought possible. Straight into the ground. I didn’t know a damn thing about such a large company. I was just a bookstore owner. I was way out of my league. I turned to Ashley. “I expect you to maintain your position, doing what you already know how to do. I will help in any way I can, but you must understand that I am really not equipped to wing this kind of thing.”

She nodded, smiling sadly. “Of course, Master Temple. It will take time, but I am not going anywhere. Temple Industries is my life. I will run it as if it were my own.”

“I will hold you to that. I don’t wish for my lifestyle to change now that I am CEO. For all intents and purposes, things will remain the same as before.”

She smiled sadly, a tear falling onto the personal letter in her own hands. “Your father said you would say that. You are very much alike.” She tucked her letter away, and I didn’t have the heart to ask her what it had said. I wondered how close she had been to my parents. They had worked together every day. This must be the ultimate tragedy for her as well.

I shook my head as Turner finished reading his own letter. “What did you get? A Rolls Royce?” I asked snidely.

“Among other things…” Turner answered in a whisper. His eyes were bloodshot. “As with your father, I will always be at your service, Master Temple. Retirement or not.” He straightened his spine, attempting to clear the remorse from the room. I nodded with a genuine smile of gratitude. “One more point of concern.” I nodded. “I must ask that you refrain from any actions that might be deemed notorious in your dealings with the police or FBI.” I frowned. Word got around quick. Or he was just well informed. “The CEO can’t be seen to be involved in official matters. It wouldn’t be good for business. Could you manage this last favor?” I grumbled, but finally nodded to appease him. There was no way in hell I was backing off Gunnar’s case, so I would just have to be discreet about it. “That includes private inquiries into your parents’ deaths. The police can handle it. It is their job to do such, and we can’t have you devoting all of your time to such matters. It would be seen as weakness to the shareholders. Especially any… unplanned meetings with judges.” He added carefully.
Damn you, Mallory
, I thought to myself, but I finally nodded.

“In that case,” I spoke, “I will need Miss Belmont’s full cooperation with the police. I have been hassled lately by them in regards to the company and their… deaths. If you could please talk to them and have it all sorted out, it would make things much easier for me to leave alone. Make it clear to them that my taking over the company was not a sneaky move on my part, but that it was the last request of my father.”

“Of course, Master Temple.”

Dean piped up. “Well, if business is concluded, would anyone care for steak?”

Everyone politely declined, not interested in such a heavy meal on such heavy hearts. Mallory leaned closer. “Now that ye have a few nickels, laddie, what ye gonna buy?”

A smile tugged at my cheeks as I thought of Gunnar. “I know just the thing.”

Chapter 14

I
t seemed we had many people in the St. Louis area on retainer for late hour transactions. It had taken one phone call, and only a twenty-minute wait for them to have everything prepared. It was good to be king. Now I was racing down the interstate well above the speed limit, dialing Gunnar on speakerphone. The car kept attempting to pair my phone with the built-in Bluetooth, but I kept declining until it devolved into a shouting match between the technology and me. Gunnar finally answered. “Hey.”

“Gunnar! Where are you?” I bellowed, cool October wind roaring around me, the acoustics surprisingly adequate for a hardtop convertible. I cut someone off with a squeal of tires and furious honking.

“Should I turn on the news? Because it sounds like you’re in a high-speed car chase.” He answered.

“No cops. Yet. Listen, where are you?” I answered, a shit-eating grin on my face.

“Still at the office, why?” I checked the rearview mirror. Mallory was furiously trying to keep up with me, but American Muscle couldn’t match the handling of my ride. Still, he was doing a fair job, cutting off the same guy I had a moment ago, producing another peal of blaring car horns.

“Good, good. Come outside real quick. I’ll be right there.”

“Is everything oka-” I hung up, howling like a wolf into the wind.

I took the next exit, swerving across three lanes to take the turn downtown. I paid no attention to traffic lights, savoring every shade of red I blew through as only a thirsty vampire could appreciate, hoping to lose Mallory, but he doggedly pursued me. No doubt he was going to chastise me, but I couldn’t help myself. Seeing the building, I downshifted, and slid into a 180-degree spin, pulling pretty damn close to the curb. Gunnar was standing outside the door, staring at me with wide eyes, a hand on his gun. Two agents also stood outside, a forgotten cigarette raised halfway to one’s mouth as he stared from Gunnar to my car. The smell of burnt rubber filled the air as I reversed — much more cautiously — to the curb in a nice, orderly parking job… facing the wrong way. I climbed out, brushing a hand through my tousled hair.