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I grunt, shrugging. “Easy decision. I don’t give a shit, Gabriel.”
“That’s your story?”
“That’s the truth.”
“Well, good. Stick with that, because if you flip-flop, I don’t exactly see Massimo as having much of a sense of humor about you defiling his wife in college.”
“When on Earth would I ever even talk to that muppet?”
Gabriel, Taylor, and I sat down this morning and discussed the obvious, i.e., that I will not be interacting with Massimo as a client.
Gabriel smiles wryly and glances at his Rolex. “In six hours.”
What.
“Excuse me?”
“Your presence has cordially been requested at Club Venom tonight, in Massimo’s private lounge.”
Goddammit.
“Lucky me,” I groan, sinking into my chair before I glance up at my brother. “What the hell does Captain Fuckstick want to see me for?”
“Let’s hope just business. And if he wants to bring up college glory days and sexual shenanigans, you’d better superglue your fucking trap shut.”
“Heard loud and clear.”
He sighs, nodding. “I’d go with you, but he specifically requested you and you alone.”
“Sounds romantic.”
Gabriel frowns. “Sounds dangerous. I’m going to call Dante and make sure his people are aware of the…possible friction.”
“This is hardly my first after-hours sit down with a mafioso client at a place like Venom, Gabriel.”
“Yeah? And have you fucked the wives of any of those other mafioso clients before having after hours sit-downs with them—goddammit, you know what, do not answer that,” he grumbles, glancing at his watch. “Shit, I’ve got a deposition.”
“Have fun.”
He frowns as he raises his eyes to mine. “Look, if you want to talk about this…I mean, with Eloise working here now, and with what happened at Knightsblood…”
“Feel like talking about your political aspirations yet?”
His lips purse. I grin.
“Yeah, thought not. I’ll be fine, Gabriel. I’m a big boy. I can handle it.”
But first, I’m going to have Katerina deliver another metric fuckton of busy-work to Eloise’s cubicle.
To describe Club Venom as a sex club isn’t really doing it justice, or even painting an accurate picture. It’d be like characterizing Wrigley Field and Fenway Park as simply “baseball fields”, or the Highland Green 1968 Mustang GT that McQueen drives in Bullitt as “a nice car”.
It’s a place of deviance and depravity. A palace of sin. Hidden away on a dull, unassuming side street, in a dull, unassuming building, Club Venom is a private kink club that caters to the wealthiest, most connected, elite, and dangerous of New York City. Mafia dons, Bratva kingpins, underbosses…Venom is where they all come to play, tasting whatever flavor they choose.
Well, not vanilla.
There are no names. Everyone wears a mask, and bracelets of various colors signify different kinks and roles. In addition to the main space there are bars, cocktail lounges, cigar rooms and private suites, and the “adult activities” can happen either in private, or, frequently, out in the open.
In short, it’s not exactly a place for prudes.
