That effectively shut him up. His face twisted sourly, but he nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“And don’t get snarky with me. I’m here tohelpyou. You get your brothel back when you can prove to me that you’ll step up and run the Virtue like it should have been in the first place.”
Terrance carded his fingers through his bright red hair and nodded. “All right.”
“What would you do for this brothel, Terrance?” Rourke asked seriously. “What would you give up?”
“Everything.” He laughed then, the sound loud in the otherwise quiet room. “I did things for this place you’ll never know about.”
“Like kill your father?” Rourke’s mouth quirked at Terrance’s wide eyes. “It’s not hard to figure out. Your father, a bastard who bashed his wife before he turned on his sons once she disappeared. Suddenly dead from a heart attack when he was perfectly healthy? What did you give him?”
Terrance smirked. The expression seemed odd on his face. Rourke had never seen him smirk before. “Does it matter? He hurt me and Conall. I did what I needed to.”
“Yes, you did. We’re all the products of our father’s reputation, though, and not everyone in the mob trusts you. It’s why I’m here.” Rourke stood and pressed his hands flat on the desk, leaning over toward Terrance. “Prove them wrong. Stop fucking Alice, grow some balls, and manage this place like a businessman.”
“They don’t trust you, either.”
Rourke stilled.
“I’ve heard the stories about your father. He was a traitor, gave up cash house locations to the Russians.”
After a short moment of silence, Rourke said, “Do you expect me to deny it? Yes, my father was a traitor, and Sloan dealt with him. He gave me a chance to prove my loyalty and I did.”
Terrance’s gaze narrowed. “But there’s a lot of guys who still don’t trust you.”
“That’s not my problem,” Rourke snapped, rougher than he’d meant. Conversations about his father always brought out an ugly side of him, the part that drove the need to defend himself and his family. He’d learned how to control himself a long time ago, though, and he wrangled the nasty reaction in. “As long as the boss trusts me, that’s all that matters.”
The room fell into a comfortable silence. The soundproof walls meant they couldn’t hear anything from the whore’s room next to the office, which Roark was thankful for. Finally, he sighed.
“The boss wants us to throw a party, invite the top players to let them know we’re truly back in business. It’ll be a freebie for them as an apology. I’ll need you to round up the names from Sam and send them personal invites.”
Terrance’s expression grew serious. “I can do that. What date are we looking at?”
“A week’s time.”
“Is that enough notice?”
Rourke smiled wickedly. “Trust me, they’ll come running for a free piece of ass. A week’s notice is more than enough time.”
Terrance stood and stretched. He wore a suit Rourke had specifically chosen for him—lined gray pants and jacket, with a navy vest, fitted perfectly to his build and height. Before Rourke came to the Exotic Virtue, Terrance had no sense of style. The suits he did ownsmelledcheap, just as much as they looked it. One word to O’Riley about extra funding for clothes, and Rourke had dressed Terrance in Hugo Boss suits and the whores in something a little more refined. If they wanted to be a high-class establishment, they needed to look the part.
“I’m on it.” Terrance headed to the door, but when he opened it, he revealed Forrest on the other side, hand raised as though ready to knock.
Forrest lowered his hand and peered around Terrance at Rourke. “Hey. Can I talk to you?”
Terrance shot Rourke a smug look before patting Forrest on the shoulder and leaving swiftly.
Rourke gestured Forrest to come in. “Close the door behind you.”
Forrest did as he was told. He’d always been good at following orders, no matter how brattish he acted sometimes.
“What did you want to talk about?” Rourke asked sharply. He took in the tight clothing Forrest wore, from the jeans glued to his legs to the black mesh see-through shirt that showed off his peaked nipples and flat belly. Rourke’s cock stirred, and he inwardly cursed himself. He clearly needed to go out and get laid.
Forrest shifted farther in the room and fell into the seat Terrance had abandoned. He leaned forward, glancing around the room as though someone would jump out from behind the bookcase and shout surprise. “Has Killough ever mentioned a Detective Diaz?”
The detective’s name made Rourke jerk forward, leaning on his desk with narrowed eyes. “Where did you hear that name?”
“Ah, so he has.”
