The Family Business 3 (The Family Business #3)(86)

“Oh, I will most definitely enjoy myself,” I replied, meaning exactly what I motherf*ckin’ said. Couldn’t wait to get out of here and back in the NYC, specifically Jamaica, Queens where my family lived and ran things like motherf*ckin’ bosses. Yeah. To sleep in my own bed, eat some less bougie food, and see my fam would be all to the good.

Oh, yeah. And some good American dick, too. Don’t get me wrong. These Euros could eat some * like nobody’s business, but I missed the rhythm real niggas had back home when they were layin’ it down.

But that could come later. For now, I really missed my family. And that was most important in this f*cked-up world: Family.

There was my daddy, Lavernius Duncan, who everybody called LC, head of Duncan Motors, the largest African American– owned car dealership chain in the tri-state area. My beloved moms, Chippy, had his back and was the rock of the family. Held it down for me and my four brothers: Junior, the big diesel one who was loveable as f*ck; Vegas, the heart of the family whom I would die for; Orlando, the calculating one whom I would have to think about dying for; and Rio, my wild and crazy twin who I lived for. Oh, and my older sister London was part of the family too, but the less said about her the better. She and her lawyer husband, Harris, already thought their shit didn’t stink, but now that she was pregnant? Fawk. Would never hear the end of it. Was almost enough to make me want to remain in Europe over break.

Almost.

Once I touched down back home, I’d just have to be civil. Steer clear of her, Harris, and the demon spawn in her gut.

Besides, it was only a month after all. Then back here to complete my schooling.

“Is your family sending a car for you, Mademoiselle Duncan? Or will you need transportation arranged?” Madame Joan Marie asked before she turned her attention to the next departing student, this Croatian bitch with bad skin. Madame Joan Marie liked everything to run with Swiss precision. And when it didn’t, heads rolled.

The text I’d been waiting for came through on my phone, leading me to tune her ass out momentarily.

“No, Madame. My ride is here now,” I said as I looked up at her, flashing my first genuine smile of the day.

“Very well, mademoiselle. Adieu,” she commented as she took a slight bow and gracefully stepped aside. Funny that she never referred to me by my first name. Probably thought being named Paris, after a city, was ghetto or sumthin’. But not ghetto enough to refuse our money.

Had been counting down all week to this moment. So with a deep sigh of relief, I stepped, luggage in hand, toward the thick reinforced doors strong enough to survive a bomb blast. The inconspicuous school in this town, not far from the border of France, was on a lake bearing the same name. Until my parents sent me here to Neuchatel, I only knew of this town for the Swiss chocolates they sold in America.

But my school was no Willy Wonka experience. No Oompa-Loompas around here. And creepy men in top hats and coats would get got.

Place was originally a hospital until, back in the late 1800s, it was converted into a school for the betterment and civility of young ladies like me, whose parents had the money and desire to have them molded into so much more.

Leaving the toasty confines, I pulled my fur close to shield me from the cold rush of air on a sunny day. Just as the text said, a car horn to my right alerted me to the all-black Citro?n C6 rolling in my direction down the slightly uneven Rue du Pommier. If I knew my daddy, he probably had it armored. I couldn’t contain myself and waved frantically, dropping the poise and polish drummed into my head twenty-four seven over the past year. I hoped LC had made the trip across the ocean to surprise me. I couldn’t wait to show him the new me I’d become and what I’d learned from my instructors.

Standing in the cold air I spotted Jae Kim being comforted by her fine-ass British hottie, who attended the male equivalent to our school in the next town. We exchanged bitter, hostile glares when I noticed him checking me out. Instead of continuing down the steps, I stopped for a moment and a smile spread across my lips. When I finally approached them on the first landing of the steps I saw a look of confusion flutter across her face.

“Bye, Jae. Have a great spring break,” I offered in my most conciliatory voice. “You heading back to Korea?”

“Don’t you speak to me, you f*cking bitch!” She glared then turned her back to me to punctuate her seriousness. But he shot me an apologetic smile. I stepped to him.

“If you didn’t have such shitty taste in women I’d consider giving you some.” I reached into my pocket and handed him a card with my phone number on it. “Just in case your taste improves,” I finished, the sounds of them arguing followed me down the stairs.

When the sedan rolled to a stop in front of the school, I didn’t wait for the driver to exit. Instead, I scrambled down the remaining brick steps and up to the car window where I tapped on it with my fingernails. Through the tint, I could make out a silhouette that had to be my daddy’s.

As the passenger lowered the window, the driver exited and went about gathering my bags to place in the trunk.

“Hello, Paris,” the voice said, taking me aback that it wasn’t my daddy’s.

“Orlando,” I muttered dryly at the recognition of my brother, clad in a navy blue suit with shiny O.D. cufflinks that adorned his crisp white cuffs. “Where’s Daddy?” I asked as he discarded a cigarette out the window while blowing smoke out his nose. Orlando was trying too hard to fit in with the cool and the chic out here. He had a woman seated on the side of him who looked to be Italian and probably didn’t speak a lick of English. I guessed it was a high-priced whore whom he’d arranged to spend time with. I paid her no mind.