The Tempting: Seducing the Nephilim. D. M. Pratt

If you all hadn’t been such greedy assholes, perhaps we could have come to some kind of an agreement of joint tenancy,” Beau said.

      “You need me,” Millard said.

      “I don’t need anything from you, I never did and neither did Mother and Dad, so get over it, grandfather,” Beau said.

      Millard rose to his feet.

      “You ran away from the Gregoire legacy and that’s bigger than anything that’s laid out on this table, Beau. You have no choice because no one else understands the truth about your family. You know that as well as I do and you will accept who you are, Beau. The question is will you accept my help?” Millard asked with an icy tone that Beau alone understood.

      “You chose to sell your soul. I didn’t have that luxury,” Beau said with a cold last look.

      Beau and A.V. left the room. They walked in silence down the two-hundred-year-old corridors and out into the main entry to the glass elevators that anchored the center of the atrium. Beau looked around at this architectural marvel that perfectly blended the old and the new. It had been tastefully modernized when they knocked out walls and floors and added a grand Plexiglas and wrought iron stairwell and elevator that screamed French Quarter 21^st century. Yet, somehow, the designer managed to maintain the staid feel of we’re the oldest, richest and finest law firm in New Orleans and don’t you forget it. Beau was fuming. He felt suffocated standing inside those thick, hallowed walls. He could smell the tucked leather furniture and feel the glare of the gleaming brass as it reflected the fine Persian rug that graced the floors. Every wall in every hall and room they passed was accented by an array of stunning classic oil landscapes capturing the stodginess of the fine old south.

      The elevator door opened and Beau and A.V. stepped in, rode in silence, then stepped out. They walked together for a long time. They were friends and words between friends were often not needed. But the biggest secret between them was that Beau was A.V.’s heart. He had been since they were small. As teens they’d played football and tennis and been inseparable, but the night of Beau’s parent’s death, A.V. had been the only one who could console his grief. Beau, lost in fear, loneliness and anguish had wept on his friend’s shoulder and in the sadness they had crossed a line and explored love for the first time. Millard found them naked and spent, tangled in each other’s arms. A.V., to this day, had never found a way to fill the void Beau left in him. That night remained unspoken. In Beau’s mind it was a memory of a one night, boyhood experience, never to be repeated. After Beau’s parent’s funeral Millard shipped Beau off to boarding school in Europe. A few letters and emails went back and forth between them in the beginning and then … nothing from either. Years went by, life went on and then, word of Beau’s death came. The news of Beau’s death hit A.V. harder than he thought it would. He even went to their old club house deep in the bayou, a tiny shack they’d built together a thousand summers ago as boys. It sat inside the arms of an old banyan tree. He wept and drank several toasts to Beau and hoped his ghost was in a better place. Beau never shared the dark secret of his family legacy and his fears that he would succumb to the curse he didn’t understand.

      A.V. cried for his lost friend, but his love for Beau was a truth he never shared with anyone. The tears flowed again at the service Millard held. Millard looked at A.V., blaming him for his having to send Beau away. Millard knew what no one else did.

      When Beau came back from the dead and Eve …. well… happened, A.V. stepped in, stepped up and stood by him. He never left his side. Their friendship picked up and just kept going without a single hiccup. Yes, secretly, A.V. kept a candle of hope Beau would see him as he saw Beau, until the day Eve woke from her coma. When the call came, A.V.’s heart broke again. He thought, though beautiful and smart, Eve was not worthy of Beau’s love or trust. He didn’t trust her, just some “gut somethin’ southern lawyers have,” he told Beau. Beau said he loved her from the first moment he laid eyes on her and that was that. A.V. never said another disparaging word about Eve or about his deeper feelings for Beau. He was asked to be the best man at the wedding and, after the wedding, to stand Godfather to Philip along with Cora as Godmother for the christening. Friendship was his fate and he accepted it to keep Beau in his life.

      As they stepped out of the building and into the street, they were assaulted by the sweltering air that made everyone move slower. It was why the south was the south: that unbearable humidity could suck the sweat out of you and leave you limp, lazy and soaked. The tiniest breeze rolled off the river and cooled their wet faces, giving a small respite from the heat of the late afternoon. It felt good and carried the sweet smell of chicory coffee and freshly fried beignets covered in a thick dusting of powdered sugar. Beau could see A.V. was as tense and angry as a caged tiger.

      “What the hell was that legacy bullshit about?” A.V. asked finally.

      “Let it go,” Beau said. “I have. All of it.”

      A.V. started to pursue the line of questioning, but one side glance from Beau stopped him in his tracks.

      “Well, fine, because this whole cluster fuck is an exercise in futility. They can’t win. You know it, I know it and those arrogant old toads up there know it,” A.V. said.

      “At five hundred dollars per lawyer, per hour, they’ll drag this out and earn enough to satisfy their coffers,” Beau said.

      “Not if I can help it,” A.V. said.

      A.V. breathed in the air. He filled his lungs, letting out a huge sigh to expel all the frustration from the day. Beau followed his lead and visibly relaxed. He rolled the last of the tension off his shoulders with a shrug.

      “You got time for a drink or a coffee?” A.V. asked as they walked.

      “I do, but I want to go home and see Eve and hold my son. Remind myself of the reasons I’m staying in New Orleans and fighting to get my life back,” Beau said.

      “Back? You know, you never told me where you were all those years Millard was looking for you.”

      “I know and I am grateful you never asked,” Beau said.

      “You must know I’m curious as hell; have been since you showed up.”

      Beau stopped and looked at A.V. for a long time. Perhaps he was sizing him up or considering if he should share some part of “the lost years” as A.V. jokingly referred to them.

      “Let’s just say I was doing all the things we promised we’d do and then some,” Beau said.

      “That sounds ominous,” A.V. said.

      A.V. looked at him. Beau knew by his even stare that A.V.’s “lawyer gut feeling” was twisting around inside his stomach, in turmoil from a thousand unanswered questions.

      Beau had always been a bit of a mystery, even as a kid.

      “It is,” Beau said with a laugh as A.V. rolled his shoulders and continued walking.

      “I have a couple of buddies who did a few tours in Iraq and Afghanistan. They say the same thing.” A.V. pointed to Beau’s eyes. “They have the same look in their eyes when they say it too. Seen stuff you wish you hadn’t and can’t erase the images from your mind.”

      “Let’s just say I promised I wouldn’t tell and it’s very important that I keep that promise,” Beau said.

      “Let’s just say, whatever it is, when you’re ready to share, I’m here to listen.”

      “I know and thanks,” Beau said.

      “We’ll get through this bullshit with Millard and the Trust too. I’ll make sure the Gregoire Estate is yours, Eve’s and Philip’s. Hang in there.”

      Beau and A.V. shared a hug. A.V. turned, walked away and in a moment, disappeared into the crowd that filled Royal Street.

      Beau watched him go. Millard’s threat gnawed at him as he headed to the sanctuary of the one place he knew he should never have come back to.

Chapter