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“I didn’t know you brought her here,” Luke said, splaying a hand over his heart like he was wounded.
“Just for a tattoo. This nosy fucker caught us in the hallway.” Fox leaned in and sniffed Geir’s hair. “You smell purdy,” he teased.
“If I run out of women, I’ll give you a call.” Geir kissed his temple then got to his feet. “I liked Addison, but not texting back is pretty clear, my friend. Don’t wait around like a hopeful little subby. Plenty of pussy here.”
“Yeah, but none of the women here are as pretty as you, Geir,” Fox shot back.
“True,” Geir agreed. “But I don’t get the impression you’d like being my sweet little pain slut, so you’d best set your sights on someone else.” He winked and wandered back into the milling crowd. A moment later a server came with a beer he hadn’t ordered.
“From Master Geir,” she insisted, when he tried to refuse. He took the beer and thanked her.
“Does he feel sorry for me or is he wooing me?” Fox asked Luke, taking a swallow of the beer.
“Maybe this is his way of letting you down easy,” his cousin replied.
“He should call Addison and give her some breakup tips, then.”
A guy about their age approached their table, spooking two girls who’d been sidling closer. His casual work attire made him stand out in the room full of leather and latex. With his navy button-down shirt and khaki pants he looked like an extra from an office movie, right down to the thick-rimmed glasses.
“Fox?” he asked, looking directly at him.
The man didn’t seem familiar. Hopefully, Marcel hadn’t sent him, but he didn’t have a hit man look about him. Then again, that would probably make him more terrifying and effective as a hit man.
“Yes?”
“My employer has sent me with a proposal for you.” He smiled faintly. “Mr. Smith has heard good things about your work.” The man handed Fox an envelope.
Smith? Hell, he was a big customer, but he’d been working with Marcel for years. And why would he have tracked them down at Fitte instead of through the regular channels?
“No business here,” Luke murmured, glancing around for Geir, Rune, or Loke. It was a strict club rule.
“I am aware. It’s just a delivery.” The man inclined his head and walked away.
Fox folded the envelope and slipped it into his pocket.
“Interesting,” Luke murmured.
“Unexpected,” Fox said, anticipation improving his mood. He glanced over at Atlas, wondering how long they’d have to stay for him to close the deal with little Miss Schoolgirl, but he’d ditched her and was walking up to the table.
“What was that about?”
“Smith has sent us a proposal.”
Atlas frowned, then glanced around. “A bit too public.”
“Yeah,” Fox agreed. “If we start working with him regularly, we’ll have to explain our boundaries.”
“We leaving?” Atlas asked.
“You not picking up?”
His brother shrugged. “Got her number. Not sure if I’m interested. Our kinks don’t line up very well. She’s hot, but hot’s not everything.”
No. No, it wasn’t.
Addison had been perfect for him though—or so he’d thought at the time. Maybe she hadn’t been into any of it and had just submitted to his kinks to reel him in.
But enough about her. It was time for business.
