Page 130 of Bourbon Kingdom
In one quick wave of light, cameras pointed at me and started flashing at an unsurmountable rate, making it hard to keep my eyes open. So, instead of looking toward the pit, I looked up at Jett and smiled.
“Congratulations,” Mr. Cardone said. “You are one lucky man.”
“That I am,” Jett agreed.
“Can you tell me how you two met?”
“Through the true luck of serendipity.” Jett kept it simple because, apparently, she was a hooker that I pulled from the pit of Bourbon Street wasn’t as romantic as the word serendipity.
“Do you have a wedding date?”
Jett tore his eyes off of me and looked at Mr. Cardone. “Not at the moment; we’re just enjoying being engaged right now.”
“An honored tradition,” Mr. Cardone added. “The news about your mansion being burned down has been a popular subject in the city, any plans to rebuild?”
“Yes, we will be meeting with contractors soon to preserve the look and feel of what the Lafayette Club used to be. The club is just a possession; I’m just grateful no one who matters to me was hurt.”
“In the meantime, where are you staying?”
Jett gave him a pointed look and said, “That’s not really the media’s business, but I will say that we are staying at one of my many properties while we figure out the rebuild of the club and continue to concentrate on the construction of the community center, which is my top priority. Until the center is complete, we will hold off on construction of the house. I have plenty of places to stay, but there isn’t a community center where people can gain a second chance.”
We were currently staying in a hotel Jett owned on Canal Street, and the proximity to the French Quarter was dangerous for me because every Saturday, I was drawn to Café du Monde for my weekend intake of beignets. Jett refused to miss our new tradition, but my ass was starting to wish we’d skipped a weekend or two. Jett thought differently; he rather enjoyed the extra little curve to my ass, fuck did he enjoy it.
Even though we didn’t have the Bourbon Room to play around in, the man came up with new and exciting ways for me to submit.
Did you know there are suction cups strong enough to hold up a grown human against a floor-to-ceiling window? Yeah, me fucking neither, but holy hell is that an experience.
“Do you have a name for the center yet?” Mr. Cardone asked.
Without skipping a beat, Jett answered “Justice,” not explaining the meaning; he didn’t have to; the title spoke for itself.
“Very fitting,” Mr. Cardone complimented. “Can I get you to make a statement on your father’s upcoming trial?”
Jett’s jaw tensed at the mention of his father. Leo was up for trial in a few weeks and his outcome was looking like incarceration for an obscene amount of time, meaning, he would be dying behind bars. The man deserved every bit of his punishment, but after some long talks with Jett, he still felt sad about losing a piece of himself.
Jett was by no means sad for his father, no, the man was pure evil, but it was the notion of losing something Jett never had to begin with. No matter what, Jett will always strive to impress his father, to prove to his father that he is an honorable man, a man of society, a well-respected impact on the community, but would never receive the praise he craved. When Jett admitted his feelings to me, I cried for the little boy inside of him, and now I make it my duty to show him how important, valuable, and needed he is. I try to deliver the love he’s been craving since he was a little boy.
Gripping tighter on my hand, Jett answered, “All I have to say is my father deserves whatever the truth unveils.”
Nodding his head, Mr. Cardone turned toward me and asked, “Miss Bishop, congratulations on your first showcase, shall we be seeing more of your art in the future?”
Caught a little off-guard, I smiled and nodded, trying not to let the words “fuck yeah” slip out of my mouth.
Jett nudged me, indicating I should say something. Clearly, he didn’t want to be engaged to a mute.
“Yes,” I squeaked. “I hope so, at least, but if not, I’m okay with that because fortunately I’ve been offered a job at Justice as an art therapy teacher, so I’m quite excited to help those in need.”
“That is great to hear,” Mr. Cardone said, while writing a quick note. He looked up at Jett and me and said, “Thank you so much and congratulations. I can see how the city is just going to fall in love with you two; it’s quite evident you are infatuated with each other.”
Jett nodded his head and guided me toward the entrance of the art gallery.
“Infatuated with your dick,” I said, as I cuddled up close to Jett and whispered in his ear.
“Trying to get yourself in trouble already, little one?” he asked with a smirk.
“Is it working?”
“It’s always working,” he insinuated while looking down.
