“Correct, but you are my pet now and you’re a target. My weakness.” He said it as though it explained everything. It didn’t.
“And it’s the Virtue,” Conall repeated.
Sloan let out a frustrated sigh. “Don’t make the mistake of thinking everyone in there is your friend. They may have been once, but you’re in a position of power now, and that changes people’s view of you. It makes them dangerous.” He laid kisses along Conall’s cheek and up his temple, his lips warm and welcoming. They tempted Conall to turn his head and capture Sloan’s mouth against his own, but fuck that. He wouldn’t let that feeling win. “Don’t underestimate your friends’ intentions, pet. Some will quickly choose to slit your throat while you sleep.”
“Been betrayed by many friends?” he asked, not quite sure if he wanted to know. What would it be like to be betrayed by people you trusted?
Sloan pointed at the scar across his eye. “Remember how I told you the Italians kidnapped me and tortured me to get a reaction from my father? They weren’t supposed to know where I was, but one of my best friends told them for money.” His hand dropped, taking a hold of Conall’s elbow again.
“What happened to him?”
Sloan’s smirk told him he probably didn’t want to know.
“Don’t answer that,” Conall said quickly.
“Wasn’t planning to. Sometimes the imagination is more fun, pet.” Sloan turned toward the door and straightened his back. His tailored suit fitted him perfectly, like his clothes always did, and it pulled around his shoulders, showing off the muscles that shifted with his movements. He entered the doorway, and Conall strode in behind him, not wanting to wait a second later.
What greeted him was a line a whores, much like the first time Sloan had visited. They all had their heads bowed, eyes to the ground submissively. To the left of them stood Terrance, his face placid and his stare strong. He didn’t come rushing over to Sloan like the first time, instead he stayed still, silent, as though someone had taught him how to be a well-trained dog rather than an unruly one. He had his crimson hair combed back and gelled, and the gray suit he wore looked brand-name and sleek, much nicer than anything he’d owned before.
Beside him stood another man Conall hadn’t met. This must have been the Tormey guy Terrance had mentioned. He was definitely someone Conall could imagine running a brothel, with the way he dressed and looked. He had the handsome appearance Conall expected a model to have, with a sharp, square jaw and strong brow, dark hair, and a beard the color of coal, as well as watchful amber eyes.
Sloan strode straight to him, and Tormey bowed shallowly before he held out his hand to him. “Welcome, boss.”
Sloan grabbed his hand and shook it. “Rourke. How are things going?”
“As well as they can be, boss. We’re raising the profits and creating order in the Exotic Virtue.”
“You say that as if we didn’t have order,” Conall snapped before he could stop himself. Something stirred in his stomach, a bitter acid that made anger boil his blood. He and Terrance had done a damn good job, they didn’t need someone to come along and change things.
Tormey’s sharp gaze turned to him, and he slanted his head toward Conall in acknowledgement. “You must be Conall. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“From Forrest?” Conall grinned, his own stare flicking to the blond standing beside Terrance. It seemed weird that even Forrest hadn’t moved an inch. Usually he was the disobedient one who liked showing off his beauty with a wink or a lick of his lips.
Tormey’s jaw tightened, but his lips curved into a small smile. Sloan, on the other hand, appeared displeased. His mouth pursed in a thin line, his eyes narrowing in warning.
“From your brother,” Tormey said.
“You’ll have to forgive my pet, I’m still training him.”
Conall snorted. The rebellious part of him rose again, niggling at him to show his brother andhiswhores that he wasn’t a dog who barked at his master’s order. He crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re trying to.”
Sloan chuckled, but the roughness of it was a warning. The corded muscles of his back stiffened as he turned away to look at Tormey again.
The only thing that shut Conall up was the pleading stare that Terrance shot him.
“Pet, come here.” Sloan didn’t look at him, but he didn’t need to. The edge of caution in his voice sent Conall moving forward until he was a step behind Sloan. Sloan grasped him around the waist with one arm, hauling him against his side. “Introduce yourself. Nicely.”
Conall bit back the sarcasm threatening to surface. He forced a smile. “Conall Morrissey.”
Tormey nodded. “Pleasure to meet you, sir. I’m Rourke Tormey.”
“Rourke has been taking care of the Virtue. The least you can do is say thank you,” Sloan whispered hotly into his ear, sending a tremor down his spine.
Conall might have glared, if Sloan’s hold hadn’t tightened until it hurt. He swallowed down the words he wanted to say. “Thank you for taking care of this establishment.”
Tormey’s knowing stare annoyed the fuck out of him. The guy knew exactly what was happening, and he was probably amused at how easily Conall folded under some persuasion from Sloan. It was a game of wits and cunningness, and Conall was losing.
“It’s my pleasure, sir. It’s been an honor.” He looked at Forrest then, and Conall immediately noticed the way the whore smiled without taking his eyes off the ground. So they were fucking. They couldn’t have been more obvious if they had a sign plastered on their forehead.
