Chapter 32
32
“ O n the rocks? Or is tonight a ‘give me an ice bucket and the entire bottle’ occasion, boss?”
My eyes narrow on Will from across the bar. Cheeky shit.
“Just the usual is perfectly adequate.” I tap the bar top with a forefinger.
He grins at me and goes about sliding the freshly poured drink across the counter before turning to serve another group clustered a few barstools down from my position.
Checking my watch, the relief of knowing I’ve nearly spent enough time wandering the floors this evening leaves me more than ready to knock this whiskey back and do one final walk around.
There are too many things running through my mind, as usual. The multiple layers of chess happening are wearing holes in my sanity, with my attention thinning to breaking point.
I don’t want to have to endlessly shake hands and force myself to pay heed to these people on a constant loop. It’s not that I mind running this club, if that’s all it was, I could do that shit in my sleep .
What it amounts to is living a double—possibly even triple—life that requires a multitude of pieces to be in play at any given time. If I drop my attention from just one of them, even for a moment, who knows what atrocity might befall the most defenseless, those being preyed upon by the likes of Andreas Noire.
Yet, I have to continue to maintain my position here and not give him a reason to suspect my brother and I are anything but loyal to his bloodline.
We didn’t get a choice about entering this world. The two of us were sold to the Anguis, as are so many children who come from parents desperate to pay back debt or feed addictions, and ever since, we’ve learned how to survive by remaining within this world.
Thorne and myself aren’t going to let others suffer, if that’s the last thing we ever achieve in this regretful lifetime.
The small hand continues to tick by, minutes drag on, and I cast my eye around the hall, beginning to fill with the members who flock here to seek out their pleasures for another night at Noire House. I’ve already taken care of VIPs needing their personal attention and catered to the whims of those who needed special arrangements made for their private rooms. In the course of this evening, I’ve also debriefed with Keisha and her girls, who are part of our operation to gain intel.
Following the auction nights, we are always able to secure the placement of our highly trained girls with those who won their bids and had their fantasies brought to life. For my brother and I, there’s a steady stream of intelligence provided to aid our other line of work in dismantling the trafficking rings that exist in and around Port Macabre.
It might have taken us years, but we’re getting ever closer to eradicating the last of them. However, Andreas Noire poses one of the biggest issues.
How we get rid of his foul legacy without simply putting a bullet through his head and getting ourselves killed in the process is a constant niggle in my brain. Some days I’m tempted to say fuck it all and go down in a hail of bullets. The only thing stopping me is knowing that unless we cut out everything and everyone connected to him, it won’t do any good to simply chop the head off the snake.
I scrub my hand over my jaw and check the time again. Am I on edge because tonight has tested the limits of my patience, or is it the lingering friction scraping against the insides of my skull, knowing where they all are?
I know they’re at Lilith House and not within the relative safety of this estate, and there’s not a goddamn thing I can do to protect any of them.
“Hawke Calliano, it’s been forever, darling.” A feminine voice cuts through my thoughts, and I see the group Will had just been serving at the opposite end of the bar make their way toward me.
Knocking back the last of my drink, I set my glass aside and turn to face the group of women, each dressed immaculately.
“Ahh, but that’s a lie. You know I never leave this place.” Inclining my head their way, I’m instantly placing all of them. Names, files, proclivities. It’s all there, like an immediate spreadsheet of information I don’t damn well want to keep cataloged in my mind’s eye. But it’s part of the fucking job, so it’s what I do, and I do it outstandingly well.
“You must have a warm bed hidden here somewhere?” One of the other women gives me a look over the rim of her champagne flute, and the others flutter some giggles.
There was a time and place a long time ago when this type of conversation might have appealed. When I might have disappeared willingly to entertain and lose myself in a night of bodies and an opportunity to try and run from my demons. Except that guy has been gone a long, long fucking time. Whether these women know that or not is of no consequence, there’s always going to be the assumption that because I’m the name and face attached to this club, I’m forever an acquisition the Household members will look to add to their power games.
“Or, at the very least, perhaps you’re looking for a new one this evening?” One of the other women smiles my way. “You’ll know exactly where our private room is, I’m assuming.”
“Rumor has it you put on quite the show the other night. Won’t you come join us, and we can put on a show just for you?”
Flicking my shirt cuffs, I give them an apologetic look. It’s more of a clench of my jaw and grinding of my teeth, to be honest, but I’m sure in their eyes, it’ll pass as a polite rearranging of my face into something akin to a smile.
I’ve practiced this shit for years.
“Thank you, ladies, it’s a very generous offer, but work calls tonight.”
They give me pouts and puppy eyes in unison but, fortunately, decide to continue their way toward the next floor, followed by calls over their shoulders to leave me under no illusion that should I change my mind, their door will be unlocked, and the invitation to play still stands, no matter how late the hour.
By the time I’ve been approached by various other members, some who rather nervously asked for new toys and furniture to be installed in their private room, I’m about ready to take Will up on that offer to leave with the entire bottle in hand. I slip out of the main hall without attracting any further attention.
Swiping my security access pass, I disappear down the private exit stairs I have hidden behind the bar, which connect to my office. This mansion is a rabbit warren, and it certainly hides more than its fair share of secrets. Some of which have come in particularly useful when being able to offer the kind of discreet access points some of our VIPs request as part of their membership.
Just as I reach the bottom of the narrow staircase, I feel my phone buzz in my jacket pocket. When I pull it out, my eyes fall to the topmost text threads. At the head of that list is a litany of messages from one brother, and below that lies the one-sided conversation I’ve been having without reply from the other.
Those two could not be more different from each other if they tried. Thorne is endlessly frustrating because he’s my blood, and he’s me, just the nicer and more palatable version.
Ky is the reckless, shit-stirring stray cat we took under our wing to save him from the worst kind of fate when he was brought here to Noire House as a child. To at least attempt to save someone else from the kind of terrors Thorne and I were subjected to night after night.
Ky:
Did Grey find out anything useful yet?
I’ve got a couple more leads. Me and Ven will follow up on them tomorrow.
Nothing substantive.
Might have some more playthings to provide Grey with. I’ll let you know.
How’s the girl?
Poe is recovering well.
Poe? Cute name.
Heard you gave a masterclass in turning a lush little ass red the other night.
Unlike you to voluntarily be on show…
And it’s unlike you to mind your business.
Can’t you go burn some of that frisky energy off with Ven and leave me in peace for once?
Is she there with you now?
No.
Shame.
I’d love to introduce her to the cooler and prettier member of our weird little family.
Any update on Thorne?
He checked in with me yesterday. Says he’s gonna be another week or so in the city.
Wait, is he still not answering you?
So I AM absolutely the favorite.
Fuck you, Harris.
You’re such a cocksucker.
What’s your new girlfriend up to then if she’s not bouncing in your lap?
Blowing out a long exhale I tilt my head back to look at the ceiling while gripping my phone so hard the screen might shatter. I could very easily just end this conversation right here and now, but I also know Kyron Harris, and he’ll accept my silence as defeat. That prick will be grinning from ear to ear, acting like he’s managed to pry an admission of something out of me.
Firstly, she’s not anything.
Just a girl we’ve been instructed to initiate, you know that.
Yeah, but I know your style, Hawke.
You don’t spank random chicks in the middle of Noire House.
Ignoring him, I keep typing.
Secondly, she’s been required to attend Lilith House as part of her initiation. Grey and Angel are on point with her tonight.
No fucking way.
Is Angel gonna be ok?
He’ll have to be.
Is that psychopath still alive? Is that who’s claiming her?
I don’t fucking know, alright.
No bullshit?
No bullshit.
I don’t know.
Who’s been giving the orders, then? Are they coming from Lilith House?
Everything is coming directly from the council.
I don’t know what the fuck it means, but clearly she’s important to someone, so we have to follow orders.
You know how it goes.
Another message comes through, except this time, the notification is from Grey and it has been sent to our group chat that includes Angel. Before I look properly, my thumb taps to quickly open it, and as I do so, it brings up an attachment with his message.
Grey:
If I find out you knew anything about that set up we walked into tonight, I’ll gut you myself, Calliano.
In the meantime…
(Until I get the pleasure of storing your organs in a preserving jar in the basement, that is)
Get your head out of your fucking ass .
There’s a video attached to his messages, and it automatically plays when I scroll down past his bullshit threats.
It’s dark, and the sheets look like either his or Angel’s. The figure I see first is Poe. She’s curled up, tucked beneath Grey’s arm, and her hand rests over the tattoos covering Angel’s broad chest.
Swallowing heavily, I exit out of the message, with the image of her dark lashes resting against her cheeks and dark hair tangled from whatever the three of them have been up to prior to that moment imprinted on my mind.
My makeshift bed is calling my name, and there’s a pounding in the base of my skull that I can’t avoid, along with a rapidly hardening cock I’m going to have to take care of before I have any hope of grasping a few hours of fitful nightmares.
As I cross to the small ensuite I have attached to my office, I’m already tugging at the buttons on my shirt. Having a scalding hot shower and falling into a fitful sleep is about the best I’m going to achieve right now, and while there are a million things calling my name, I need to find some rest first.
Just as I yank the material off, another message comes through.
Grey:
I know you read those messages, Calliano.
Go fuck your fist all you like.
It won’t be the same as having her again, and you know it.