Zeke’s POV

As I entered the bustling casino, the flashing lights and vibrant atmosphere immediately captivated me. It was crowded, as usual, but I found the noise irritating.

“Look who we have here,” Zane said, approaching with a glass of wine. “Long time no see, brother.” We shook hands, patting each other on the shoulders.

“Yeah, long time no see,” I replied. We passed the strippers, several card players, and a variety of other sights before reaching the private suite.

“Brother!” Fletcher exclaimed excitedly, pushing aside a woman clinging to him.

“Fletcher,” I smiled. “Seems some habits die hard.” They laughed.

“Well, a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do,” Fletcher replied.

We settled in and ordered more drinks. Fletcher dismissed the woman, leaving just the three of them.

“How have you been, brother? Did you miss us?” Zane asked. I raised an eyebrow. He meant, Did I miss their disruptions?

“I bet brother missed us so much he came to see us right away,” Fletcher replied in a mock French accent.

“When will you two start acting like adults?” I asked casually, picking up a glass of wine.

“The world’s already full of adults; why bother?” Zane said, and they laughed again. I smiled. Of course, I missed them.

They recounted their travels and adventures, but neither mentioned our father.

“How about the old generals?” I asked. “Didn’t you pay them a visit?” A dark glint flashed in their eyes, quickly masked.

“Those old men are crazy,” Fletcher whispered. “They’ve been ‘cleaning’ their basement and made us their errand boys.”

Cleaning meant a lot of bodies had been disposed of.

“Hmm, cleaning is good. It removes dirt,” I said.

“Tsk tsk tsk. The only difference between brother and the old generals is their age,” Zane said, shaking his head.

“Good you know that, because I have a job for you both.” Their faces showed I’d dropped a bombshell.

Zane and Fletcher, both trained alongside top military soldiers and highly skilled in martial arts, craved freedom from the mafia lifestyle—a dream far from reality.

“Who do you want us to visit this time?” Zane asked.

“Not visit, but keep an eye on him. We need evidence against London’s most notorious drug baron. Rogers will forward classified information. He’ll face the law, not us.”

“Ahh! Brother still works for the police,” Fletcher said. I nodded.

“Okay, brother, we’ll do as instructed,” Zane replied with a sly grin. Fuck, I knew that smile.

“Name your price,” I sighed.

“A property each, on the west,” they said simultaneously. Sneaky bastards.

“Fine,” I agreed. Both properties, worth about ten billion pounds, were near a clubhouse I owned—the best in London.

“Speaking of properties, there’s someone I’d like you to meet,” Zane said, excusing himself.

He returned with a young man, brown curly hair, almost six feet tall. For no reason, a knot formed in my stomach.

“Chris, meet my brothers, Ezekiel Reid and Fletcher Caruso,” Zane introduced. Chris extended his hand. “Christopher George. A pleasure to finally meet you.” I shook his hand, smiling wryly. He greeted Fletcher.

“I met Chris at a roulette table. He owns a daycare and needs properties east of London to expand. Who else owns properties in London but you, brother?” Zane smiled. They sat.

Something felt off; there was an unsettling look in the man’s eyes. “What are you doing here if you own a daycare?” I asked.

Chris remained calm. “I just love it here.”

I didn’t believe him. “Okay,” I replied.

He gestured to the waitress. “Allow me the honor of getting you gentlemen another round.”

Zane and Fletcher agreed; I nodded.

“Any particular property interest you?” I asked.

“Yes. Mr. Reid owns a property east of Lakeview town, five minutes from my school. I’d love that apartment for expansion.”

His response sounded plausible until I remembered Kamille lived nearby. I own apartments everywhere; how could I have missed that one?

I stared at Chris. He couldn't have known Kamille, but I needed to check him out.

“Alright. My assistant will look into it and give you feedback.”

“Thank you,” he replied.

“See, I told you my brother would help,” Zane said to Chris, who laughed and thanked him.

Fletcher left and returned with more strippers. They got disgusting. They avoided me; I liked that. They could never satisfy me.

Kamille.

I checked my email, finding Rogers’ message. Kamille had received a letter from the lawyer’s assistant in the US and returned to London. I closed my phone.

What was in that letter? It was the only reason for Kamille’s return. She’d mentioned the kids’ father, but their striking resemblance to me couldn't be ignored. The report stated only she, the nanny, and a few delivery men had visited.

Was the kids’ dad a delivery man?

I smiled at the thought. I wondered why the kids’ father would be in London if she’d been in the US for four years. The kids didn't seem to know their father. I sighed.

What was Kamille doing? Was her return a good decision? At least I’d see her again after years of searching and feel her against me.

“What the fuck is that on your face, brother?” Zane asked.

My smile vanished. “Nothing. Aren’t you supposed to be busy?” I said, eyeing the stripper on his lap.

“I was blinded by your glow; I had to see what caused it,” he responded.

“Yeah, I see that sweet blush,” Fletcher agreed.

“It’s good, brother. You’ve been smiling more. Whatever the reason, keep it up,” Zane added.

“You dimmed the glow with your unwanted attention,” I replied, feigning anger.

“Whatever suits you, brother,” Zane said, returning to the stripper.

Easy for them to say. Their words only intensified my thoughts about Kamille.