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“So, it’s you, Finnigan, Vincent, Carter, and Maddox, but who’s the actual leader?”
“None of us. That was the whole point when this all came together. We didn’t exactly plan it this way, but it was a natural progression. Obviously they’re five-six years younger than me, so we didn’t start at the same time, but we lead together. Each with our own set of skills.”
“Were you the first?”
“Kind of, but not in the way you think. I decided not to go to university, and I went into the family business instead. Not because I wanted to follow in my parents’ footsteps, but because I wanted to learn. Then a few years ago, I took over a strip club that sort of landed in their laps when they purchased a building here in the city. I pitched an idea, asked for a small investment from them with a promise of a return with interest. Not that they needed the money, but it was for my ego. I transformed it into a luxury gentlemen’s club that turned very profitable, from more points of view than one.”
He pauses for a moment as he takes a turn away from the main boulevard we were on.
“More points of view?” I ask, curiosity spiking.
“First, I started getting into the black market, using every bit of profit from the club, after paying back my parents, and with time, we were dealing in more and more expensive pieces. Finn and the guys were always around. I’m not sure how they found each other, but I swear menace attracts menace, because they compliment each other so fucking well. Finn wanted in before he was even eighteen. I refused, but he didn’t give a shit. I wanted something better, legal, for his future, but I couldn’t get rid of him. The compromise was that he had to at least try and go to university. So he followed Carter there. Madds and Vin stayed here. Two businesses evolved from the club—an escort service, that’s run by an associate, and information. Vincent was most attracted to the former. Anyway, it all went from there, and here we are, still early in the journey, but fuck, we’ve been through some shit.”
“I didn’t know you owned an escort service.”
We’re driving behind a building, still close to the city center, and we seem to be slowing down in a parking lot that doesn’t really look like anything special.
“Some cards we keep very close to our chests and the escort service is one of them. Nobody knows it’s ours. We try to keep it way in the background, because the escort service is a front. They’re all basically trained to extract information. People get stupid and reckless when they see a pretty thing or they’re horny. So we take advantage of that. Whoever sees us with one of the girls and recognizes her, they just think we hired them for the night just as they do.”
“What do you do with all that information?”
He presses on the breaks as he swiftly pulls into a space, his eyes fixed on me, the look in them darker than I’ve known it.
“We use it.”
This is where the insight ends—on a chilling note that leaves me with even more questions. Only, I think I should stay ignorant to the answers, because I have a suspicion this is where the violent side of their business begins.
He gives my thigh another squeeze, then captures my chin between his thumb and index and pulls me to him until his lips meet mine. He kisses me breathless, and before he lets me go, he swipes his tongue over my top lip, like he’s getting one more taste. I’m not sure what this man does to me, but I would spread myself open on a platter for him so he can keep going.
He slides out of the car, walks over to my side, and helps me out of my seat, guiding me toward a metal door that looks like the entrance to the building’s boiler room, not a fancy bar. Another car pulls into the parking lot and Finn and Hanna come out, heading our way with great big smiles on their faces. She looks so damn happy.
“I was expecting one of those tiny sliding doors and a thug looking through it,” I tell Ronan.
He laughs and scans a card against a panel I didn’t notice, then presses his finger to it.
“This is the back entrance.”
“So you have that at the front?!”
“Something like that.”
I follow him through a corridor, then another, then through a door to what feels like another world. Slow, deep music fills the space that smells of wood, leather, and expensive cigars. There’s a decadence to this place I’ve never experienced anywhere else. The wallpapered and wood-paneled walls are covered in paintings and vintage decor, dim lamps strategically placed in the space, lighting it in just the right way, hiding some of the faces who are filling the seats. I love that the wooden tables are not all the same. There’s a mixture of coffee, dining, and bar height tables, and every chair and sofa is mismatched, adorned in expensive, dark-colored leathers.
But the bar is a work of art and it draws my attention instantly. It’s pulled right out of the twenties with its wood, marble, and gold accents. Right behind it, in the center of the wall, there is a gold décor piece made entirely of thin metal strips. Lines that form a starburst, surround the shape of an eye, all inside a circle. It’s very stylized, in the nineteen-twenties elegance—apart from the eyeball itself. It looks so incredibly real, you would swear it’s watching, following you around the room. It’s beauty is slightly unsettling.
Everything in here seems to be left over from the art deco era and it got infused with southern blues vibes.
“I think I’m in love…” I almost whisper, marveling at the beauty of it.
“Thank you.”
Carter shows up out of nowhere, giving a courtesy nod, his features as straight as ever, but I swear I can see a trace of a smile on those lips.
“The speakeasy was Carter’s idea, same as the decor,” Ronan explains.
I can see why. The man looks like he belongs here, with his slicked back hair and undercut, shirt with sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and tailored suit trousers and waistcoat.
“It really is beautiful. It’s nice to see you again, Carter.” I think I’m lying. I’m not sure, though. It’s not like I dislike him, but I’m slightly terrified of him.
