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“That’s none of your business,” Ian replied before any of us could. “You made it clear many times you and Alessio want no part of it. You can see yourself out of my fucking office. Now.”
Declan chortled. “Ah, this is where the illegal shit comes in, isn’t it? Let’s see,” he mused, placing a finger to his chin. “You already hide your mob activity, so it’s not that.”
Ian’s eyes narrowed, and his lips pressed into a thin line. I could feel the rage radiating off of him as I came to a stop next to him. A low rumble erupted from his chest.
Declan’s gaze brightened. “Sex club?” He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “Pleaseee God, tell me you’re turning this place into a sex club!”
The four of us shared a subtle, knowing look before redirecting our attention back to him.
“Fuck, yes!” He sat back, clasping his hands together with a single clap. “I’m fucking going. Who better to navigate this shit but me?”
“I’m going to fucking regret saying this,” Ian breathed, “but he’s not wrong.”
“You’re not coming!” I spat before lowering my voice. “You’re not a part of this.”
“And Chance is?!” Declan laced his fingers behind his head with an evil grin. “He’s a fucking actor! Look how fucking pretty he is!”
“Finally, something we agree on.” Chance crossed his arms with a smug grin.
Declan slid to the edge of the seat, an expression smearing his face, saying he knew he had Ian. “I’ll invest a million dollars into anything having to do with this place!”
“He’s going!” Ian and Chance snapped in unison before they caught each other’s gaze. Ian then turned to Tyler. “Can you push your trip out a few days? I need you here for legal.”
Tyler didn’t look pleased, but he nodded anyway. “Mila’s going to kill me, but okay.”
1
THE ASSISTANT
JADE
Being Mr. Knight’s personal assistant came with its perks. In the years I’d worked for him, I got to know everything. Every. Damn. Secret. Legal and illegal, though it was imperative I always pretended to be none the wiser.
I’d been with Ian since day one of Euphoria and I’d earned the right to call him by his first name. Behind closed doors anyway.
We met at Highways. The only strip club in the perfect little upstate New York town of Ithaca, with a whopping population of almost thirty-one thousand people. The place was long gone now, partly due to the food poisoning people got from the $4.99 prime rib special offered as an incentive on Sundays.
It was nothing like Euphoria. Highways was dirty and only had one bathroom that the staff shared with the customers. Rotted wood paneling framed the cracked mirror above the sink, and I was positive the dried, crusted liquid on the walls was semen. I’d always pop a squat behind the club; across the little alleyway in a small, wooded area while one of the other dancers kept watch. And I’d do the same for her.
The single pole in the club was never cleaned. Red, green, and yellow lights were the only colors the owner allowed. The other dancers and I jokingly referred to the main and only stage as the intersection. There were no music tracks. Just an old and smoky, monotone male DJ who announced our names like we won a hotdog eating contest at a small-town county fair.
I zipped by the bar, grabbing a tray of drinks, delivering them to the regulars before approaching a man whose back was to me. He was wearing a baseball cap. The moment I saw him, I almost dropped the tray. Men that hot or anyone with Boston Red Sox hats didn’t venture into places like this. It was suicide. But he didn’t look concerned, and the ‘New York Yankees’ loving owner clearly hadn’t seen it yet.
Carefully, I set his drink down on a square cardboard coaster in front of him, taking in the rest of his outfit. He wore a dark grey V-neck T-shirt that showed off his muscular biceps, paired with navy-blue jeans. Composing myself as he lifted his gaze to mine, I smiled, greeting him as I would any new person who waltzed through that old wooden door.
“Welcome, stranger.”
His tongue rolled over his bottom lip before placing the rim of the glass to his mouth. He chugged his beverage then set it down. “You look nothing like anyone in here. What’s your name?”
“Neither do you and Jade Sinclaire.” Unsure why I told him my real name, I flickered my gaze, laying the tray on the table, then leaned my palms on the surface. “People like you never come in here.”
“DALLAS JAMESONNN YOUR STAGE IS READYYY,” The DJ announced into a microphone with an ever-so-slightly high-pitch feedback.
The sexy man arched a brow at the noise and shook his head. “Wow, that’s… a lot.”
I snorted, placing a hand on my hip. “Why are you here?”
He appeared deep in thought before answering. “I have some business plans to open a new club location, so my best friend and I have been traveling around the country, checking out some competition. I just shut down my old club.”
