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"People, I know your time is precious so I won’t take up any more of it, except to say, the lot of you have been handpicked to head the board of this league."
"A league?" Nikolai drawls. "Is that what we’re going with?"
"For the time being, unless any of you have a better suggestion?"
There’s silence around the table.
"Fine. A league it is. New members need to be recommended by existing members. And we meet monthly to review the membership requests that come in. Any board member can veto the entry of a new person. All of us need to agree that the person will be the right fit for this league."
"Is there a name for this league?" Liam asks
"The League?" I offer.
"Right," he says in a skeptical voice.
"Do we have, like, a clubhouse and stuff?" Declan asks.
"For now, we meet here in my offices. But the new premises will be at Piccadilly, right next to the headquarters of the BAFTA."
Zara leans forward in hear seat. "Next to the BAFTA, huh? Fancy."
"What’s BAFTA?" Declan quirks his eyebrows.
"British Academy of Film and Television Arts. The equivalent of the Oscars. They’re housed at 195 Piccadilly. We’ll be occupying the premises next to them."
"Are you sure it’s wise to have such a public presence?" Hunter murmurs.
"Are you ashamed of your kinks?" I shoot back.
Zara laughs, then turns it into cough.
"I do have a public image to uphold." He frowns.
"If you were so worried about your image, you wouldn’t be here in the first place," she reminds him.
"Who are you? My PR manager?"
"God forbid. And whoever does manage your PR has my full sympathies. He or she must have to spin many plates at the same time to keep your image out of the gutter."
Hunter opens his mouth, but before he can speak, I interject, "If there are no more questions—"
"What exactly is the benefit of being on the board again?" Liam tilts his head. "Other than a direct hotline to those around the table, that is?"
"You mean, a direct communication channel to the kind of power that can sway governments, influence share prices, give you access to secrets that you’d have found difficult to get hold of otherwise, and the chance to do good on a scale that can make a visible difference," I remind him.
"I’m not sold on the idea yet, but" —he raises a shoulder— "I’ll give it a trial run. If the club adds value to my business, and indeed, to my life... I’ll not only stay on, but I’ll recommend the kind of members who’ll make a real difference by their very presence alone."
"Is that a challenge?"
His eyes gleam. "If you wish."
I hold out my hand. "If I win, you recommend seven new members to join the league."
"If you lose?" He peels back his lips.
"I won’t."
"But what if you do?"
