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A lump forms in my throat, and I can’t help but wonder how much more of this I have to endure. My wife is somewhere in this place with another man, and if that wasn’t enough to crush whatever is left of my pride, tears prick at my eyes.
“I made a deal with Oliver,” Leo states, a long exhale stretching his words. “He gives us what we asked for and makes sure Arabella is safe here, and we get him his investors.”
Safe here?
“I want her blacklisted. She’s not to step foot here again. I don’t care if they drag her out by her hair. Whether they slam the door
so hard in her face that her nose breaks. She doesn’t get back in here.”
The door opens abruptly, and Oliver stands on the other side with a grin on his face.
“She’s quite the attraction around her—”
Son of a bitch!
I don’t have it in me to take any more of this shit. My hands fist around his collar, dragging him into the middle of the room until he’s half pressed into and almost lying across his desk. His blue eyes are pinned on mine, wide and seething, his carefully coifed auburn hair falling over his eyes when he tries to push back.
“My wife isn’t a fucking attraction!” My rage muffles my words, distorting them. “You let her back in here again and I’ll destroy this place.”
“You think you’re the first person to threaten the club?” Hands squeezing around my wrists, he pushes up to his feet. His face is so red that it makes the orange in his hair stand out. “You think you can tear this place down without fucking yourself over? Let me remind you of a few home truths, Sinclair. We were all fucking born into this.”
Anyone who’s anyone is a member of the club. A select group pass membership on; titles and old money are the only requirements for that.
“Yeah. You got off that high horse yet?”
“Oliver…” Leo warns him, stepping forward.
“Fuck you! You came to me! Arabella came here!” Looking back at me, he straightens his suit and combs his hair back with his fingers. “You need to pipe the fuck down and realise that within these walls, I’m the fucking boss. Me. Keep your marital crisis out of my club, or it’s you who won’t step back in here.”
Lighting a cigarette, Leo walks to the wet bar. He takes his time pouring drinks as the silence in the room threatens to smother us all. Taking his drink, he sits in one of the red velvet wingbacks by the fire.
He’s got that look in his eyes that says he’s doing the math of the situation at hand. Oliver picks up his cigar from the ashtray and collects his drink on the way to the sitting area. I’m on autopilot when I join them.
My thoughts are a volatile hurricane swirling around my head.
Lighting my own smoke, I wait for whatever it is Leo is plotting, trying to ignore that voice that keeps reminding me that my wife is out there. She’s outside that door being touched by a stranger. Smiling at a stranger. Whilst I’m in here trying not to lose my marbles.
“I have a proposition,” Leo states. “You need money, I have it.”
“We’ve already negotiated this.”
“I’ll give you all the money. I’ll be your sole investor. I’ve seen your figures—it’s safe to say I’ll make a decent return.”
Oliver puffs on his cigar as he relights it, blowing on it to make sure it takes properly. “And what more do you want?”
“Part ownership. You can buy my share back over time with interest, of course. But until then, we both own the business.”
“No. Fucking. Way.” He chuckles dryly.
“Here’s the thing, Oli.” Leo leans forward, stubbing the butt of his cigarette in the ashtray before extending it to me. “The whole process of getting you the investors is going to take the best part of a year. I have the money ready to go whenever we sign a contract. I’ll be a silent partner, with equal decision-making rights.”
“What do you actually want?”
“The same thing. Full client list, eyes on Bella, and full disclosure on every person that signs in as a guest. It doesn’t matter who brings them, I want their name.”
Looking between us, it only takes a moment for realisation to hit. “Who are you after?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Leo tells him.
