6. Chapter 3 - Aaron
M y newest acquisition was truly abhorrent.
I gingerly stepped around the litter of broken needles and dried vomit and breathed through my mouth to avoid inhaling the fetid stench of decay.
I would normally send out my people to do their own assessments, sparing me from this depressing exercise in human depravity. I eyed a rubber hose, its faded orange end peeking out from underneath a soiled mattress, and my stomach churned like a turbulent sea.
The life of a Rodriguez heir was not a clean one. I was not spared from the desolate landscape of the dregs of societ y simply because I was born in a modern castle with golden faucets and crystal chandeliers.
No, Mother had made it very clear from a tender age I was the product of a sordid empire, which would be my privilege to rule one day—with titanium fists and a callousness that put the world’s most effective dictators to shame.
I accepted my fate long ago. I didn’t strive for a world of ‘better and brighter’—what could be better than the life I already had? Men did not accumulate power from soft footsteps and light touches. They took it through bold moves and quiet conversations behind fortified doors.
Acquiring this building was one of the many planned bold moves. A quiet conversation that would secure the Rodriguez empire for our less savory revenue streams.
Money was the ultimate source of security; my wealth could purchase several small countries, and the power our family held reached the far corners of the earth. I didn’t require anything else in this lifetime; I strove only to acquire more of each.
They were the only mechanisms that could free me from my prison.
Sebastian Rocher, my personal lawyer and most trusted legal counsel, stood a few feet away from me in the dank warehouse, wearing his own grimace of revulsion.
Long abandoned by its original owners, it was now a drug den for the most damaged of society. But it stood on a crucial piece of territory my company would now legally own—territory we needed to continue our operations and grow our legacy within Sequoia’s underworld.
I didn’t trust others to carry out this work. One phone call could have spared me from this dilapidated den of inequity, but I had needed to see it with my own eyes. A new player was encroaching on our businesses; I planned to cut hi m off at the knees before he got the dangerous idea of being invincible.
Even I didn’t have such assurances.
Alejandro Alvarez would not come trespassing on my turf without deadly consequences.
My gun felt heavy in its holster beneath my suit jacket as I surveyed the length of the open space one last time, satisfied this move on the board was the right one. I needed to separate my businesses from my parents to ensure my own legacy.
I needed a private fortress to house my women, my fighters, and my money. The Rodriguez family was no longer in alignment, and it was time to set a different course.
“We’ll get the cleaners out here immediately.”
I turned and nodded to the small, gray-haired man wearing a three-piece suit in the middle of August.
“I want this place sterilized by Monday. I want construction to start before Friday, and the finish date no later than November.”
He grunted in acknowledgment. I was presenting our teams with an impossible task, but he didn’t question it. To argue with a Rodriguez was a dangerous choice.
I walked swiftly out of the concrete dungeon into the dry mountain air and filled my lungs with the scents of hot asphalt and stale urine—a far improvement from the interior space.
Jacques, my bodyguard, stood to attention beside the black Mercedes G-Wagon parked just outside, awaiting my signal to head to our next location.
The stink of desperation lingered on my skin—I would need a hot shower and a good fuck to take away the stench.
“Club 7,” I ordered brusquely and climbed into the soft leather rear seat. Jacques closed the door behind me. I needed a hit of endorphins before my next meeting, and I knew just where to get it.
The leather collar tightened around my neck as a masked, sultry voice purred in my ear. Blood pounded through my veins as I sought oxygen with shallow breaths. The fuzz of near-unconsciousness crept into my vision.
I craved the illusion of no control and not commanding everyone and everything for these little snippets in time. Knowing full well there would never be a situation I would relinquish the power I held within my fist.
My release in chains was a small treat to myself on the days I cared enough to pretend I wasn’t a dominant, emotionless cretin.
The woman tonight wore black vinyl strapping that only covered her nipples. A pleated skirt barely hid her slick cunt as she slid up and down on my cock in slow, controlled movements. A flogger whipped at my chest and the collar tightened further, keeping me at the finely honed edge of pleasure and pain.
I bucked up into her at a frantic pace, chasing the weightlessness of a fantastic fuck. A final slide of her hips against mine and I exploded, ribbons of my cum flooding into her.
She cried out alongside my animalistic groan, and she was so well practiced, I couldn’t tell if it was from a real orgasm. It didn’t matter. She didn’t work for her own pleasure; she worked for mine, and she was very well paid for it.
Club 7 was one of my less-legal businesses, the revenue stream I had overseen for the better part of a decade, and the one pleasure for which I paid dearly to Antonio Carlos. I refused to deal in unwilling pussy—all our employees were of leg al age and worked for us out of their own free will, but we catered to men's and women’s less orthodox fantasies.
Recently upgraded, every room had its own sex landscape—anything to fulfill a client’s most debauched desire; toys, costumes, torture devices, ropes and binding agents—the most recent upgrade had been virtual reality simulators to fuck in whatever way you pleased—with a willing human participant on the other side.
Club 7 was the only one of my brothels I frequented when I needed a release. Only a few women and men were allowed in a room with me, all personally vetted before they were selected.
I didn’t know their names; I didn’t need them. They knew my preferences and played their parts well. There was nothing outside of our transaction than a mutual fuck and a minuscule dent in my bank account.
The lithe woman climbed off of me, with dribbles of my cum seeping down her thigh when her feet hit the floor. It didn’t give me any sense of satisfaction. The only woman who made my cock jump for another round when I saw my seed dripping from her greedy cunt was Hillary Lane.
“You may go,” I ordered dismissively once she released the collar from my neck and untied me from the bed. She nodded once, then made her way through the hidden door in the wall to a fully equipped washroom.
I rubbed feeling back into my wrists as I too, made my way into the private client washroom. Marble tiles and copper fixtures gleamed in the soft yellow light as I stepped into the shower to wash the stink of sex from my body.
Thoughts of Hillary’s slim frame writhing in pleasure as she impaled herself on my cock invaded my otherwise quiet mind as I prepared for my next meeting—with her.
She was furious with me, and rightly so. Mother had cornered me into the meeting with Charles and Frederick, and I had wanted no part in it, but the family must look united , whatever the cost. A divided family was a weakened family, and we must never show weakness to our enemies. Or our friends.
Hillary was a friend. A complicated friend. A business associate, an industry leader, a woman whose body I knew as well as my own. She was formidable in her intelligence and goddess-like in her beauty—and she harbored her own darkness that called to mine.
But we could never be more than friends—as much as a marriage would be convenient to cement our business interests, the Lane dynasty could never get so close to the Rodriguez empire without knowing our secrets.
Some things were too precious to give up—even to her.
Regardless, her fury also meant she might never enter the bedroom with me again. Hillary’s hot head had reduced to a simmer over the years we’d known each other, but a business betrayal wasn’t one she’d likely overlook anytime soon. I would have had more optimism if I had killed her puppy instead of taking an unsanctioned meeting without her.
I finished my shower, changed into a new suit I kept here for these kinds of occasions, and directed Jacques to our next destination.
I was a brave man by most accounts, ruthless, but incurring Hillary’s wrath was not a battle I looked forward to.
She was an equal opponent and knew what it took to win.
My gaze caught a tuft of shining blonde hair. She bent over a file of documents in the corner booth of our favorite restaurant, La Belle Maison.
Cho osing our usual table was a tactic, I knew. She would remind me of our many moments shared in the same space without saying a word, in an attempt to make me compliant for whatever she was proposing. I stifled a smirk and slid into the plush velvet seat. Most men cowered to her power, but I knew her better.
And I didn’t cower. To anyone.
“Hello, Mi Reina .” I eyed her with a neutral mask as she stared stonily back at my chosen name for her. “Perhaps you are not my queen today. To what do I owe this pleasure?”
A server placed a crystal whiskey glass in front of me with my favorite bourbon. I dipped my head in thanks. I turned my gaze back to find frosty blue eyes narrowed and studying me.
“Cut the shit, Aaron.” Darkness invaded the ice as she glared through me. “Tell me why you needed a private meeting with my lawyer, and I’ll tell you why I’m ending the contract.”
Hillary could handle mergers and acquisitions with a controlled and firm hand but, as expected, she would hold nothing back from me today. I squared my shoulders and chose the path of least resistance.
“I didn’t call that meeting, as you are aware.” I took a sip of the drink in front of me, relishing its soft burn while I was being roasted on the outside. “Mother did. And I’m sure Frederick and Charles are doing their jobs right now to ensure the agreement suits both parties as instructed. What is this really about?”
“Trust, Aaron. It’s about trust.” Venom laced her tone as she too, took a casual sip of her martini. “I can’t trust that you are not a puppet for your parents. I want nothing to do with your parents, as I’ve made clear from the start. They’re vile creatures who have no loyalty for me, and I don’t do business without loyalty.”
I c ocked my head and assessed her fully. She wore a dark burgundy dress today, the fabric clinging to every curve her small frame possessed. Soft waves curled around her shoulders and a single solitary ruby pendant gleamed from the hollow of her throat; I had given it to her as a friendly present when we agreed to merge our companies.
Another subtle power move–ruthless. I stifled my grin.
“Is it loyalty you crave? Or absolute control? I can’t seem to tell the difference.”
She responded with a light scoff before she sucked the vodka off an olive and snapped it between her teeth.
“If I wanted to control you, Aaron, I’d simply put that collar you love so much around your neck. I don’t control my friends.”
Friends. She spoke the word without irony, as if friendship could possibly describe what we were. I had attended every family celebration since we were children, despite our four year age difference. I had watched as Logan Eccles shared her first dance at her debutante ball, though later that night, my lips were the first to kiss her pussy, and my hands were the first to make her come.
I let her put a collar on me to satisfy my need for pretense and her need for dominance, but there was nothing friendly about the way I fucked her.
Her sharp brows rose as she scrutinized my flat expression. “Do I have your loyalty, Aaron? If not, I am walking away from this deal right now. I don’t need you. You can find someone else to fund your whorehouses.”
My mask slipped in slight surprise as the flicker of an arrogant smile traced her lips.
“You think I don’t know your secrets, A? You think I didn’t investigate every atom of your businesses before I agreed to this deal? I know about the ‘other’ revenue streams too.”
She sat back in her seat, the smug smirk no longer in hiding. “And they suit me. I may need them one day. Gray is a color I’m willing to trade in. But I will not contribute to your businesses without your loyalty. Undying loyalty.”
I reassessed the woman in front of me. Her fierce eyes stared back, unblinking in her specific request. She knew about our secret brothels with certainty. One secret in a vast sea of deceptions, but it could damage enough in the right hands.
Yet, she was still here, still offering to be a friend , although that definition was far more blurred with our alliance.
“You have my loyalty, Hillary.” I drained the bourbon with a smooth pull and licked its remnants from my lips. “But I will not die for you.” I shifted in my seat, leveling my stare.
“ Undying is not a commitment I am willing for. That’s your own burden to bear.”
As my answer satisfied her, she nodded and the fire dissolved from her gaze. Had I told her I would give my life for hers, she wouldn’t have believed the lie. In our world of predators and prey, Hillary and I would always herald the top position; she wouldn’t choose to lay her life on the line for me, either.
“We have a deal, then.” She tucked the remainder of her papers into the small champagne briefcase by her side before sliding gracefully out of the booth.
“Sign the paperwork, Aaron. And be a fucking man about it next time.”
I smiled as her perfect form strolled away from me; the confidence of a true ruler. As far as battlefields went, this was a simple win, but I had no illusions—Hillary wouldn’t be forgiving this slight with a simple declaration of loyalty. I’d have to put her enemy’s head on a spike to prove it.
Metaphorically, of course.