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I watch as they get put into the vehicles and then slip into my own car the moment I see them drive out of the dock area. Dragon slides in beside me, rolling the window down despite the cold conditions tonight. He nods forwards as if I’m chauffeuring him around. I suppose I am in reality. What he says goes.
Pulling off, I consider the two brothers. Elias is mouthy, fucking perverted from what I’ve already seen. Dragon is different. He’s calmer and near silent most of the time. Calm doesn’t do the feeling justice. He’s like that silence before a storm, the electric current that lays in wait, ready to detonate into a hurricane. I still haven’t seen it other than setting my bar on fire, but I’ve heard about it.
By the time we’re pulling into the underground parking and watching the other cars roll up, he’s on his third cigarette and filling my car with smoke. He looks at me, smirks about something, and then slides out. “Good pick up,” he says. “Your men and routine are solid enough.”
It’s the first form of praise I’ve got from him, and I’m not sure how it makes me feel. Part like a kid in a sweet shop, and part like a fucking pansy. Praise? I don’t need it, or want it. I’m the last person on the planet that usually gives a damn what anybody thinks of me or my guys.
The girls are bundled out into the dark confines of the back area and led through the entrance of the old, Victorian cellars. We follow, and I can’t help but continue noticing the little elf as she keeps herself huddled around the small one she’s with. It makes me wonder if they’re sisters, or cousins, or something other than just two girls from fuck knows where. Not that I give a damn about my own cousin, but I suppose Jamie’s been useful as an employee over the years. She sure as hell knows how to run a bunch of girls, anyway. Don’t see why these ones will be any different than my own dancers when she finds out what's happening.
Albeit, I don’t sell my dancers.
Having watched them get put in their new home while they’re here, I wait until Dragon leaves and then stay present as they’re locked inside the room. One massive space, sparsely decked out with some bunk beds and a few tables and chairs. A makeshift washroom at the end, giving them a degree of privacy. According to Dragon, that’s all they need. No reason to give them any comfort, he said. They turn soft if you do. Start acting up and being too human.
It’s eventually just me and them. I gaze through the small window as they look around what they’ve been brought to. The little elf goes straight for the back corner, taking the other one with her. She shucks a blanket over the smaller one and then directs her stare straight back at me through this window.
I turn and leave, remembering Dragon’s fateful statement before we arrived. He pulled in some smoke on that dock, tucked the lighter in his pocket and stared out into the dark, cold sea while we waited. “You want some advice?” he said. “Don’t look at them too long. It’s easier like that when you start. They’ll eventually mean fuck all but money.”
Fuck all but money.
* * *
I barely recognise the place after the work that’s been done. It was probably time anyway, but the fact that my hand was forced still sits wrong with me. Dragon’s still breathing down my neck at every corner from under the new chandeliers, and Elias is Christ knows where doing fuck knows what most of the time. Any amount of control I had over my own club has waned to near non-existent while they’re here. It’s not ending anytime soon either.
Jamie arrives after her day off at her usual time, a pissed glower on her face about something. I follow her on the security cameras in my office, watching as she heads straight towards me. I haven’t told her about any of this yet, and she’s been too preoccupied with managing the transformation of the club to care all that much about what else is going on.
Time’s up now, though.
She needs to know.
“Who the fuck is the bitch?” she spits, striding into my space.
I look up from my contact list, not liking the attitude. “What bitch?”
She shuts the door, locks it. “The one in the Mandarin suite? She’s with the sleazy one. Told me to leave as if I was trash.”
I flick the screens over on the security, eyes scanning. There’s a tall woman in there with him, a hard smile worn into freshly made-up features. “Might be the trainer. Carmen Bennett. She was arriving today.”
“Trainer? I train all the dancers here.”
“They’re not here to dance.”
“Who?”
“The eight women in the cellar.”
“What?”
I lean back and stare at her, sighing. “I told you, we’re investing in a new product.”
“Yes, but you didn’t say anything about women. What about them? And why the cellars?”
I flick my computer screen around so she can see the information I’ve been compiling. Names. Wealth amounts. All the types of men and women I know in London and Northern Europe who will be interested in this kind of business exchange.
She takes it in, barely a flicker of interest on her face, until she sees the figures on the screen.
“That’s all well and good, but are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
“What do you think I’m saying?”
