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Despite what people think, I’m not good at talking to women. Albert says it’s because I’m too direct and bossy. I don’t ask, I order. But that’s just the way I am. You don’t get to run all the areas in London that I do without having authority. It’s also the reason I’m single.
I walk through the main entrance to one of my six nightclubs. This one, Artie’s, is my favourite. I do most of my work from the office here. I fist bump the doormen as I pass. They’re my most loyal security and have been with me from the beginning, when all I ran was the door security on other people’s premises.
I make my way past reception, leaving Tommy speaking to Joanna to check ticket sales. It’s Saturday night, so I expect the place to be heaving, and I’m right. The lower bar area is crammed full of students and other young people, all trying to get their one-pound shots lined up before eleven, when the offer ends and the drinks go back up to full price. It works well to get them in the club, and by eleven, they can’t be bothered to leave and find anywhere else, so they party here until closing at three a.m.
Taking the stairs two at a time, I brush shoulders with several drunk customers heading back down to the ground floor. The second floor is just as busy. The music’s different on each level and the dance music blaring up here is popular.
I bypass the chaos and take the next set of stairs to the VIP area. I kiss the hostess on the cheek. “Business good?” I ask, and she nods, turning the sign-in book towards me.
“Almost to capacity in there,” she replies.
“Glad to hear it,” I say as my eyes scan the list. Amelia and Rosey both signed in an hour ago. “Were these two alone?” I ask, tapping next to their names. Angie nods. “Great, thanks.”
I push open the large black doors. I had them shipped in from Italy, like most of the furniture in here. I wanted mysterious and dark, with different shades of black and red, and everyone knows most of the best-made furniture comes from Italy.
I shake hands with a few of our members as I pass by. The VIP annual fee is eye-watering, but it keeps out the riffraff. Besides, they get treated like kings and queens here, from champagne on arrival to canapés prepared by one of London’s top chefs. I have police officers, judges, and even members of parliament signed up. Most of them bring their younger knock-offs as it makes them look cool having a membership to somewhere exclusive. Others come here to find their next sidepiece. If they knew their hard-earned wages went right back into running my guns and drugs over the city, maybe they wouldn’t pay . . . or maybe they would. After all, crime keeps them in a job.
I get to my usual spot beside the bar. I like this corner because it’s dark, shading me from everyone else. Sometimes when I come here, I need to just watch without being fist bumped or back slapped. It’s like I’m anonymous, and it’s surprising what you see when no one knows you’re watching.
A drink is placed down without me asking. I nod my head in thanks and raise the glass to my lips. I hear Meli before I see her. She’s laughing at something Red is saying in her ear. Red is the female version of myself but with a lot less control. She speaks what she thinks and doesn’t apologise for it, and I like that about her. But Meli, there’s something about her that makes me stop and stare whenever she’s around. She’s loud and outspoken, though maybe not as much as her friend, but I see through it because it’s a front. She plays the part of someone oozing confidence, and when she walks into a room, she makes sure all eyes are on her. Yet the times when she’s sitting back, unnoticed and unseen, her mind wanders off somewhere else, somewhere dark. Her eyes stare blankly and, occasionally, she flinches. There’s pain there. A lot of pain.
I’ve probed Maverick about it before, but he doesn’t open up about his sisters. I don’t blame him. I wouldn’t want to tell me either. I’m no good for her, and we both know it.
“Penny for them,” says our newest barmaid, Alicia. She’s leaning over to me, and her tits are spilling out of the skimpy black uniform. She’s definitely gone a size too small, and I make a mental note to speak to my bar manager about it. The image in my VIP area is important.
“It’s busy,” I tell her, a hint to get her back to the waiting customers instead of trying to pick me up.
She glances over her shoulder and then back to me. “Yeah.”
“So, you should get back to it,” I push.
She’s already drawn attention to my quiet spot, and as Marcus, one of my long-term employees, comes over to order her back to work, Rosey appears. “Do you always hide in dark corners?” she asks, smirking.
“Your speciality, I believe.”
“It’s all very well having VIP tickets, but why am I still having to queue at the bar?”
“You’d think with all the money you just acquired, you’d be able to pay the yearly membership,” I say, clicking my fingers to get Marcus’s attention. “Priority ladies,” I tell him. “Serve them first.”
“Not a problem,” he replies. “What can I get you both?”
“Is it on your tab?” Meli asks, cocking a brow and giving me a cheeky grin.
I roll my eyes. “Set them up a tab, I’ll settle it,” I tell Marcus. He laughs, entering the details into the computer as Meli fires her order.
“Were you a little impressed?” asks Rosey, leaning closer to me. She smells amazing.
“With?” I ask, even though I know what she’s asking. Was I impressed with the way she shoved Jeremy Hall off the top of a building, making the world think he jumped?
“The first job you hired me for.”
I think on her words, and she watches me closely. “It was clean. No ties. You have the assets to lure a man to his death without him realising, which makes it an easy kill. So, I don’t know if impressed is the right word. Pleased, maybe.”
She looks annoyed. Maybe she’s used to men praising her. “By assets, you mean tits and arse?” I nod, sipping my drink. “I can kill a man without those.”
“So, you lured Jeremy Hall to his death by force? You dragged him up those stairs, onto a roof, and heaved him over the edge?”
“Well, not in this instance, no. But I can when I want to.”
