Detest Read online

  Detest

  DeLancy Crime Family Book 3

  E.C. Land

  Elizabeth Knox

  Detest

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are all products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblances to persons, organizations, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.

  Detest. Copyright © 2021 by Elizabeth Knox & E.C. Land. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations used in articles or reviews. For information contact E. Knox & E. Land.

  Cover Design: Clarise Tan, CT Cover Creations

  Editing: Jackie Ziegler, Knox Publishing

  Proofreading:Rebecca Vazquez , Knox Publishing

  Formatting: E.C. Land, Knox Publishing

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Trigger Warning

  Delancy Family

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Epilogue

  Desire

  Deny

  Also By E.C. Land & Elizabeth Knox

  Trigger Warning

  This content is intended for mature audiences only. It contains material that may be viewed as offensive to some readers, including graphic language, dangerous and sexual situations, murder, rape, and extreme violence.

  Proceed with caution. This book does entail several scenes that may very well be a trigger to some.

  The DeLancy Family

  Félix — (m.) Madelaine

  Rémy

  Sabine

  Désirée

  Tristan

  Nicholas

  Olivia — (m.) Finn Brisbane

  Prologue

  Rémy

  One Month Ago . . .

  There’re not many things in my life I regret. I’m a DeLancy, after all. As such, I have no problem when it comes to getting my hands bloody. It’s the way our father raised us. Well, his sons, at least. Delano DeLancy did only one thing right in his miserable sadistic life. He taught my brothers and me to be ruthless when it comes to business and to be protective of family.

  My three sisters are all unique in their own way, and I like to think I have a bond with each and every one of them. Sabine—the oldest of the girls—is the strongest. Some days you’d think she’s got more balls than a lot of guys I know. Then again, after Mom died, she shut her emotions down, hiding behind a mask, and keeping it up to shield herself away. To pass the time, she runs the office out at the docks—though, she doesn’t need to—where transports come in and out. Her work has become her refuge.

  Désirée is next after Sabine, and twins with Tristan, one of my two little brothers. Désirée has been gone while attending college up in New York at Stonewall University. I miss seeing her smile, and the fact I can’t see it every day guts me. But I get she’s making a life for herself. I’ll be happy when she finishes school this year and comes home. I’m sure she’ll be able to use whatever degree she gets when she moves back to New Orleans.

  Lastly, Olivia—my partner in crime—we’re all a little bit more protective of her because of everything she’s endured in her life. The worst part is our stepmother, Deanna, was the person responsible for her pain. She gave a new meaning to the term “Evil Queen” when she was alive. Olivia is now married and living her happily ever after with Finn Brisbane. It’s a damn good thing he loves my sister. The only reason they got married is because of an alliance between our two families. With the threat of war out of the way, the wedding could’ve been called off, but the two of them were meant for each other. The best part of all, they’re expecting my first niece or nephew.

  I think it’s because of Oliva and Finn, I ended up doing something stupid. Not just stupid. I mean stupid. I went to Vegas and pulled a Hangover movie stunt. I married a chick I didn’t even know in front of an Elvis impersonator. Unlike in the stories, I didn’t fall for the vindictive woman and have been trying to get rid of her for the past month.

  The only ones who know I married Brittney are Félix and Tristan, and that’s only because she followed me back to New Orleans. Sitting in my office at Diamond Dancers, I lean back in my seat and think of the last conversation I had with my lying, manipulative “wife”.

  “Rémy, you can’t mean that. You don’t want to get our marriage annulled,” Brittney whines, pressing herself against me, clearly out of desperation.

  “Yeah, I fuckin’ do. I didn’t even want to marry your ass in the first place,” I growl, taking a step back. “I want you to sign the papers and end this bullshit.” I have enough on my plate right now. I don’t need this as well.

  “You can’t mean that, baby. Besides, I need to tell you something.” She hesitates for a second. “I’m pregnant.” Brittney’s statement nearly causes my head to explode.

  Brittney can’t be serious right now. “Tell me you’re joking.”

  “Do you want me to show you the test?” she quips.

  Fuck.

  This shit can’t be happening.

  “Look, get the hell out of here. I’ve got shit to do and talking to you isn’t one of them. We’ll discuss the pregnancy later. Because I’ll tell you now, if you are, I’m sure it’s not my kid,” I snarl. Turning away from Brittney, I walk behind my desk to the liquor table. I pour myself two fingers of scotch from the decanter and bring it to my lips, swallowing the entire thing in one gulp.

  I’ve got work to do, and this is the last thing I need right now.

  Opening my eyes, I let out a harsh breath. That was just a week ago. After speaking to a friend of mine—who’s a doctor—she told me you could find out as early as four weeks with home pregnancy tests. I really don’t believe Brittney is pregnant. Even if she is, it’s not mine. We got married a month ago . . . exactly four weeks ago. It’s possible, but the chances are slim to none. What would it be, a million in one chance it’s actually my kid?

  If I have to, I’ll demand a DNA test and shove the results down her throat for thinking she could trap me. I won’t allow it. Not now. All Brittney’s trying to do is sink her claws into what’s mine. Mine and my family’s. Most notably, my money. I noticed the red flags right away—she’s a fucking gold digger. As soon as I sobered up in Vegas, I caught her going through my wallet. That’d been enough for me.

  A knock sounds at the door, drawing my attention from my thoughts. I glance up to find Félix and Madelaine coming in.

  “What’s up with you?” Félix asks, stepping into my office with a hand on the small of his wife’s back, guiding her into the room.

  “Nothing I can’t deal with on my own,” I grunt. Leaning back in my seat, I cross my arms. “What are you guys doing here?”

  “I wanted to come down and tell you Corentina will finally be able to start soon,” Madelaine says, taking a seat across from my desk.

  Corentina’s the burlesque dancer Madelaine found for Diamond Dancers a while back, but because of a contract she had with another establishment, she couldn’t start until it ended.

  “When?” I have a business to run. I don’t have time to worry about when my headliner will finally show up. I’ve already waited a year.

  “She�
��s to arrive in two weeks,” Madelaine says. “I’ve already set her up with an apartment in the complex Désirée will also be living in when she returns home.”

  Madelaine does her own thing but also helps Félix and me out with miscellaneous tasks. Honestly, I don’t know what we’d do without her. She keeps us both straight. I don’t know how we managed to get anything done before they got together.

  Nodding, I let her give me the rundown of what to expect. Only as she’s talking, I can barely concentrate because of the shitshow that’s now becoming my life.

  Chapter One

  Corentina

  Present Day . . .

  “I’ve already put some feelers out for when your contract here has ended. We can never work too far ahead of the game, you know?” Ursula, my sister and manager, tells me from where she’s sitting across from me at the table. We landed in New Orleans not even an hour ago, and she’s already preparing for the next big thing. It’s ridiculous.

  “Can’t you live in the moment for once in your life?” I ask her, a bit surprised. The thing is, I shouldn’t be. Ursula’s been like this ever since we were young. She’s always searching for the next big thing. Most of our life it’s only benefited us. But I’ve worked for years without as much as a couple-month break. Some of my colleagues would go to Bali for two weeks, or maybe even backpacking around Europe during the summer, but not me. Ursula’s always kept my bookings back-to-back, barely allocating enough time for travel.

  I shouldn’t be complaining because I make good money, but I’d love nothing more than some good old-fashioned time off. Hell, I’d be happy with a simple four-day weekend getaway.

  “No, because we never know if this gig might not work out. It’s better to be prepared.” Ursula picks up her piping hot cup of tea and takes a sip like it’s nothing. The steam fills the air above the cup while the scent of tangerine and mint waft through my nostrils.

  “When hasn’t one worked out?” We both know the answer—never.

  “Dear sister, I applaud you for your confidence. Truly, I do. However, don’t act like you’re above your competition. You’re replaceable, and any new venue will tell you so. They’ll point out every flaw and weakness you’ve revealed at the first opportunity. For example, lately, you haven’t done your best bump n’ grind. Your bump isn’t harsh enough, and instead, you look like a drowned slug.”

  I blink my eyelids in awe at my sister’s words, and not in a good way. “I can’t believe what you just said.”

  “It’s better I’m the one telling you and not the venue. As a matter of fact, you need to focus more during the aerial routines as well. Each time you get in a hoop and start following the choreography, I’m terrified you’re going to land flat on your face. Your palms look so sweaty and your makeup starts sweating off. It’s not a good look for you, Corentina. You’re supposed to be the best, not mediocre.”

  I can hardly believe what I’m hearing from her, but then again, I shouldn’t be too surprised. Ursula’s always been incredibly hard on me. So much so, she doesn’t know when to stop. It’s her biggest flaw, if I’m being honest. She’ll just keep going until she crosses a line.

  “Would you like another cappuccino, madame?” our waiter asks as he returns to our table, smiling brightly at me.

  “Actually, yes, I would—” I tell him, but my sister cuts me off.

  “No, she doesn’t. But you can bring out one of those pastries for me, like the one that woman has.” Ursula points to one a woman has from a couple tables away. “And for my sister, you can bring an egg white omelet with tomato. No salt, pepper, and no cheese. She doesn’t need any more fat than she already has.”

  Unable to hold back my reaction, my jaw drops. Ursula’s always been crude, sometimes even a bitch, but this is ridiculous. She’s talking about my body like I’m unhealthy, but I’m maybe five-six and weigh a little over one-fifty-five. I’m curvy, yes, but I’m not unhealthy. I’m allowed to have hips and a round ass, and I can eat a donut if I want one. Gosh, she has me fuming right now.

  “Madame, what is it you would like to eat?” the waiter asks me, completely disregarding everything my sister told him a few moments ago.

  I swallow hard and feign a smile. “Nothing. I’m going to be leaving, but thank you.”

  He nods and walks off. I stand up from the chair, push it under the table and grab my purse. “Look, I’ve dealt with your crap for a long time, but what you just did crossed a line.” I could tell her all she’s ever done has been crossing lines, but it won’t do any good. It won’t be beneficial in the least bit. She’ll just sit here and argue with me, saying I’m too sensitive, saying I don’t remember things the right way. She could even start gaslighting me. It’s not like she hasn’t done it before.

  “Oh, come on.” Ursula runs her pale pink acrylic nails through her hair, bringing the stray strands away from her face.

  She’s about to start arguing with me, and I know it. “Don’t. I know what you’re going to do, and I’m going to stop you before it even starts.”

  Ursula scoffs and scrunches her nose up at me. “Really? You’re going to act like a spoiled child? After everything I’ve done for you?”

  Oh no, we’re not doing this. “You’re obviously misunderstanding how being an agent works, Ursula. I’m your cash cow. It’s not the other way around.”

  She turns her nose up at me and crosses her arms. “You need me, sister. You wouldn’t have the slightest idea on how any of this needs to be handled.”

  Standing a bit taller, confidence soars through every limb of my body. I may not know how, but I’ll learn. “I don’t need you. Consider yourself fired, effective immediately.” Pulling my purse up over my shoulder, I turn on my heel and walk out of the gate leading to the outdoor dining. I make a right and continue down the sidewalk, enjoying the scenery of beautiful New Orleans.

  Thankfully, I already went to my leasing office and checked in with the manager, so I have the key to my apartment. It’s not far away, so I put the address in my phone and walk there. The doorman greets me, and I proceed through the lobby. Once I’m on my floor, I dig into my purse, grab my key, then put it in the door. I turn it and walk inside as the scent of cinnamon and vanilla hits me.

  Today was my first time in the apartment, but I put a scented wax burner on the counter in the kitchen. Cinnamon and vanilla mixtures are my favorite, and it’s always been the first thing I’ve done to make a new place my home.

  I head into the living area off the kitchen and fall back on the plush gray couch, praying I did the right thing today, and that I won’t come to regret it later.

  Chapter Two

  Rémy

  “Rémy, are you going to go with me to my doctor’s appointment?” At the sound of Brittney’s nasally whines, I’m tempted to put a gun to my head and pull the trigger. For the past month, the insufferable woman has become even more of a nuisance. She’s refusing to sign the papers to have our marriage dissolved, claiming we can work everything out.

  “Rémy, did you hear me?” she snaps, stepping into the kitchen of my family’s home. It pisses me off that she was even able to get into the house. Madelaine and Félix are the main ones who live in the house now. I bought my own place not too far away from here. One Brittney knows nothing about yet, thankfully. If she did, she’d constantly be over there hounding me.

  I prefer to be near my family. We’re all close, but Félix and I are the closest. He and Madelaine need the space for when they decide to give me a few nieces and nephews.

  Wanting her out of here, I put the coffee carafe on the counter and turn to meet Brittney’s gaze. “Why would I want to go to the doctor with you?”

  “Besides the fact I’m your wife, this is your child, Rémy. You should want to be involved and know what’s going on.” She pouts, placing a hand on her still-flat stomach.

  Nausea churns my stomach at the thought of her being pregnant. I still don’t believe it’s mine. “If you remember correctly, I’ve been
trying to get rid of you.” Grabbing my coffee mug, I take a sip while looking at my watch to check the time. I’m supposed to be heading to Félix’s office soon to meet my new dancer.

  “And I keep telling you, you don’t mean that. You wouldn’t have married me if you didn’t feel something for me.” Brittney smiles, closing the distance between us.

  “Woman, I regretted it the moment I sobered up. You were supposed to be nothing more than a one-night stand I left in Vegas,” I sneer, stepping back to get away from Brittney before she’s got a chance to touch me. “I’ve made it pretty clear I don’t want you in my life and want you to sign the papers.”

  “You really want to get rid of the mother of your child?” she asks, her lip trembling slightly.

  Rolling up the sleeves of my crisp, white button-up shirt, I sneer. “I’ve told you it’s not my child, and until you prove otherwise with a DNA test, I’ll not have anything to do with it. Now get out of here. Time is money, and you’re costing me. I’ve got things to do, which you’re keeping me from.” I turn my back to her, finishing my coffee, putting the mug in the sink, and rinsing it out.

  “Rémy,” Brittney whines, and I inwardly cringe as she presses herself against my back.

  “Step back,” I grind out, not wanting her to touch me.