The Fearless King (The Kings #2)(66)



Journey changed into a fitted black dress that managed to be her version of demure, and pinned her hair up in a simple style. She would have to hurry to make it inside of the hour timeline, but the only thing guaranteed to distract her grandmother from her purpose was showing up inappropriately attired. God forbid.

My family’s priorities are so fucked up.

After letting José and Ethan know where she was headed—and waiting for them to grab their car so they could drive her over there personally—she arrived at her grandmother’s Houston residence.

The high-rise building was on the newer side and so expensive that the suites were mostly owned by out-of-town billionaires. Journey waited for the doorman to check her info and then left the men in the lobby and headed up to her grandmother’s floor. Stepping off the elevator was like stepping into the past. Esther had apparently decided to bring a little piece of home with her when she visited, because the suite was decorated identically to her rooms back in Dallas, right down to the little Pomeranian statues arranged carefully on the vanity. Creepy, as always.

Esther rose as Journey walked in, as regal as a queen. Her cloud of white hair was pinned perfectly in place, and she wore a designer dress that managed to convey wealth and power without beating the viewer over the head with it. She extended a gloved hand. “Granddaughter.”

So we’re going to play it like this.

Journey stalked to Esther and placed her hands over the old woman’s. Despite having left seventy in the rearview several years ago, age hadn’t conquered Esther yet. She stood straight, her face smoother than it had any right to be. Probably bathing in the blood of virgins. “Grandmother.”

“It’s been some time since I’ve seen you.” She held Journey’s arms out and cast a critical look over her. “Stressed and brittle isn’t a good look for you, my dear.”

She extracted her hands and took a small step back. “As usual, your warmth astounds me.”

“Attitude.” Esther shook her head. “You get that from your mother. My Elliott never talked back the way you children do.”

No, he always kept a calm and cheerful voice when he was giving his children a lifetime’s worth of scars.

Over the years, they’d gone through this song and dance more times than Journey could count. “As delightful as this is, I’m not here so you can tell me all the ways I’ve disappointed you over the years. This isn’t about family. This is business.” The Kings might not differentiate between the two, but the Bancrofts sure as hell did.

Esther stilled, shifting from grandmother to a cold stranger in the space of a heartbeat. This was the woman who had taken a prestigious family name and old money and turned it into an empire that spanned a good portion of the country. “You should have led with that.” She motioned to the dark wood table situated in the corner opposite the door. “Tea?”

“No, thank you.” She didn’t necessarily think her grandmother would poison her, but she’d also never thought that her father would orchestrate a car accident that put Eliza’s life in danger, either. The rules on what was and wasn’t possible seemed to change daily, and she wasn’t going to get caught flat-footed.

Esther took a seat opposite her and waited for Journey to do the same. She folded her hands. “Now, what is it that brought you to my door?”

The phrasing made her sound like some kind of Mafia boss, which should have been absurd, but only a fool underestimated Esther Bancroft, blood relation or no. Journey lifted her chin. “I want you to call off your dog. You’ve made your point—Kingdom Corp owes its existence to you. Tell me what you want and I’ll see it done—on the condition that Elliott leaves Houston and never comes back.”

Esther considered her, the steely blue eyes that ran through the Bancroft family showing nothing. “Never come to the negotiation table from a point of anger, my dear. It makes you look weak.”

Damn it. She held her grandmother’s gaze, refusing to look away or show how overwhelmed she felt. “If you want to nuke the company, there are more effective ways to do it than letting your youngest son meddle with everything because he thinks he’s untouchable.” She paused, smothering any show of emotion. Esther wouldn’t respect it, and it would only undermine Journey’s argument. “Which leads me to the conclusion that you want Kingdom Corp mostly intact for whatever you have planned. With Elliott at the helm and the rest of us driven out, all the key employees will be gone within a month—two at the most. He’s been here a week and he pissed off the tech department so thoroughly, they would have walked if not for me. That would be impressive if it wasn’t so damn dangerous.”

A slight tightening around Esther’s mouth betrayed her irritation, though it didn’t show on the rest of her face. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, but my Elliott is more than capable of running the business if that’s what he’s decided to do. I’m not his keeper.”

Journey snorted. “You don’t believe that any more than I do. He requires a keeper. He’s a mess. He’s always been a mess.”

“And you’ve historically had issues with your father.” Esther narrowed her blue eyes. “You’re too old for such petty vendettas, my dear.”

There was nothing petty about her issues with Elliott, but she wasn’t stupid enough to trot them out now. It would make more sense to hand a loaded gun to her enemy and paint a target on her chest. Esther and the rest of the family considered Journey and her siblings as Kings, rather than Bancrofts. What they would do for each other, they wouldn’t do for them.

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