Chapter 14
Luka
Leon does all the talking, while I’m barely present through the meeting.
My insides are boiling with rage as my ears pound in my head.
I’m glad the dogs aren’t here, because Hades would definitely feel the tension rolling off me.
I make it through to the end without snapping one of my fingers off, which is a damn miracle, considering how hard my fists are clenching in my lap.
Every word he says grates on my nerves like nails on a chalkboard.
He eventually leaves and Leon opens his mouth to say something, but I raise my palm, shutting him up. “Not now.”
I grab the bag of dry-cleaning Mia brought earlier and stomp down to the dungeon.
With a jerk of my head, Marko realizes he isn’t wanted anymore and makes himself scarce. Sophie’s lying on the bed, her forehead peeking out from beneath the covers.
“What the hell were you thinking?” I roar.
She has no idea what she did. Her silly little escape plan could shake my whole family. And put her in grave danger. I rub my eyebrows, trying to release the spots of red from my vision.
She barely looks at me.
“I asked: What the hell were you thinking?”
“I tried to escape.” Her voice is low and not at all what I expected.
I drop my hands to my sides. “No shit. But do you have any idea how dangerous that could have been?”
This time she sits up, the covers slipping to her waist. She looks straight into my eyes, my own fire reflecting in hers.
“Newsflash. I’m already in danger. I’m fucking kidnapped and held in a sex dungeon and while I showered, someone stole all my clothes.
I was forced to wear next to nothing while entertaining Creepy McCreepson there.
” She glances at the chessboard. “I don’t think your warnings hold much weight. ”
“Oh, trust me. It could get much worse.”
“Is that a threat?” She raises an eyebrow.
She’s absolutely infuriating. A mix of resignation and pure survival instincts.
I force myself to take a breath. “I was just trying to wash your clothes. Since you’ve been wearing them for a week straight.
I had no fucking idea he was going to come.
” I drop the dry-cleaning bag on the bed and her eyes widen.
“You might think I’m a bad man, but there are far worse men out there. ” I point a thumb at the door.
“Oh, worse than dealing drugs and weapons and women, or whatever it is that you do?”
I smack my lips approaching the bed. “People will buy their guns wherever they come from. That’s not on us. Same thing with drugs. At least we make sure they get their shit clean. And women,” I shake my head, “that’s not something we’d ever do.”
“You sure about that? How about you ask your uncle?”
“Like I said. That’s not something my brother or I would ever do.”
I don’t have to explain myself to her. But she hit a little too close to home, after what Toma suggested tonight. I text Marko to come back down and as soon as he’s there, I get upstairs. My office is under construction, so I chill in the hallway to avoid the noise.
Next up is Leon, and he picks up after only a ring.
“What the hell were you thinking?” he says.
“You know there was no way for her to escape.” I sigh, pouring a shot of rakia and downing it in one gulp.
“I don’t give a shit about that!” he yells before lowering his voice. “But you gave him a way in. Now he’ll be all over it.”
Unease settles in my stomach. I don’t want him to meddle in my business. And I certainly don’t want him or his men alone with Sophie. I was telling her the truth. There are men far worse than me out there.
“I know. Fuck, I know. But you know he’d do it, anyway.”
“I think Sophie has gotten too relaxed around there. You should really put a leash on her.”
I grit my teeth at that. “Yeah, I’m sure Father would love for us to torture innocent women in our basements.”
“He is dead, Luka. And maybe he wouldn’t be dead if he was willing to do what needed to be done.”
“So you’re agreeing with Toma now?” I roar. “You also think we should traffic young girls and rent them out in my club?” Spit flies from my mouth, but I’m too angry to care.
“Of course, I don’t think we should traffic anyone. But sex sells, you know that. And you’re the one who bought the club.”
I end the call, pushing my fingers to the bridge of my nose. They’re fucking insane.
The idea behind buying this club was to make a safe place for people to explore. My employees are free to fuck whoever they want, but I don’t want to get a cut out of it. Sex should be liberating, healing. Not a fucking business transaction.
My lighter flickers as I light my cigarette and type out a text to an acquaintance of mine to get me on the list of another club downtown. It’s a respectable, elite place I visited a few times.
Hopping into my truck, I stop home to change clothes. The dogs greet me as soon as I enter my penthouse apartment. Danica scrubs the already spotless kitchen island.
“What are you still doing here?” I ask, dropping my keys on the island.
She purses her lips noticing the keys. Her face is etched with wrinkles, but it doesn’t make her any less frightening. “I’m keeping them company.” She gestures her head to the dogs, currently circling my legs and my chest squeezes. “They miss you.”
I barely saw them in the last few days, spending every night at the club. I miss them, too. “I know. I’ll try to be around more.” Though I can hardly promise that. If anything, Uncle Toma’s help will mean I’ll need to spend all my time at the club. Maybe I could take them there?
I shake my head, determining it would be a mess.
Like the kitchen, my bedroom is spotless.
The dark bedding of my custom-made California king bed is neatly tucked, the bedside tables freshly dusted.
Danica deserves a damn raise. My closet is all black, but unlike my typical attire, I change into a black suit and a black shirt underneath, leaving a couple of buttons undone.
The suit is not as fancy as one of Leon’s, but it looks pretty good.
I say goodbye to the dogs, giving them cuddles while simultaneously trying to keep them from shedding all over me. Hades, the dangerous rottweiler, wags his tail so hard I’m afraid it’ll fall off.
Twenty minutes later, I’m parking my car in front of the club. I shove both of my guns in the glove compartment, looking around to see if it’s safe.
This is a stupid decision. The Russians are after us. They want us destroyed. And I’m walking around unprotected. But I need to take the edge off. I’ve been working nonstop for weeks now and I’m closer to a breakdown than I’d prefer.
Exhaling, I get out of the car and slam the door behind me. A small iron sign above the door is the only indication that I’m in the right place—L&L. I enter through the long hallway, reaching two burly bodyguards.
“I’m on the list,” I say. The taller one raises his eyebrows, so I add, “Charles’ list.”
He dips his head, stepping to the side to let me through. Next up is the reception desk with a hot, young hostess, dressed in goth from head to toe.
“Good evening. Can I have your name?”
“I’m on Charles’ list.”
Her mouth parts on an ‘oh.’ “He’s waiting for you in the VIP booth.”
“Thank you,” I say, making my way through the door.
Lace & Leather, or L&L for short, is a franchise of sex clubs with top-notch security.
The only reason I’m allowed to enter without ID, or membership, is my relationship with the owner, Charles.
If I were to become an official member, my name would quickly get out, making this a dangerous place both for me and the patrons of the club.
The place is packed full. A long mahogany bar splays on one side of the massive room, booths adorning the other side. There is an aerial dancer on the dimly lit stage, spinning on a free hanging pole completely naked.
I make my way to the back of the room, to a single, secluded booth.
“Ah, good evening, my friend.” Charles’s eyes wrinkle at the sides.
He’s a handsome guy in his fifties, wealth and power exuding out of him.
It’s apparent in his stature, in the custom-made suits he wears, and in the Patek Philippe watch weighing on his wrist. A woman sits next to him, her long, red nails wrapped tightly around his arm.
“Thank you for having me.” And for not saying my name in front of this random woman. Her gaze travels over my form while she licks her bottom lip. Smooth. Her full lips are as red as her nails, her fancy gown showing a substantial amount of cleavage.
“How about you head to the member’s only area? The late show has already started. Carmen and I’ll be right there.” He gestures to another bodyguard to let me through.
I grab a whiskey at the bar and head to the door marked “Members Only.” The guard purses his lips but lets me through.
Inside hosts a smaller version of the bar outside, but instead of a stage, the booths are all facing a room with a glass partition.
The lighting’s dimmer, and there’s no sultry music blasting through the speakers.
The silence would be heavy if not for the smacks of a paddle on naked flesh and moans from the woman receiving them.
I settle down into the booth closest to the glass partition, downing my drink.
An older, imposing man sits on a leather couch, with the top two buttons of his crisp white shirt undone.
His hand lifts high, slowly, holding a black wooden paddle before crashing down on the already reddened skin.
This time, the woman hisses, her eyes closing to protect herself from the pain.
Jet black hair falls to the floor as she’s splayed across the man’s knees, her tight maroon dress lifted just enough to reveal her ass.
It’s a handful, and the man takes his chance to get a good grip on it after every smack.
“Pretty good, huh?” I haven’t even noticed Charles and his date slip into the booth next to me, transfixed by the sight in front of me.