Chapter 21
LORENZO
Despite only being eight in the evening, the line to enter Dmitri's club, Lev, is already wrapped around the corner. Most of those lined up are wearing bold outfits and masks. I’m not a fan of wearing the fuckers, but considering it’s a themed club where everyone is expected to do so, I wear a simple black wolf-shaped one.
The bouncer at the front, wearing a bull mask, stops me. “Name?”
“Lorenzo Moretti.”
He doesn’t have a list to look at, but permits me inside.
The heavy beat of music oozes from the esteemed establishment. Stairs trail up three levels on either side, but most who enter never make it past the first floor. Bright lights flash stripes across the dance floor, and the booths along the walls are crammed with people.
Manhattan truly is the place that never sleeps.
I wonder at what time some of these people began partying and when they’ll finish.
Or maybe this is only a continuation from the night before, since most of them purchase drugs that are being circulated by the staff wearing bunny masks.
They offer trays of alcohol and suspicious bags for sale.
This is the place one goes if they never want the party to end; concoctions of drugs and euphoria that will keep them awake, dancing, and fucking for days.
Heading toward the staircase on the right, I don’t need a guided tour of Dmitri’s club.
I’ve been here plenty of times before. When I reach the second floor, I briefly scan the lit-up red rooms on either side.
Admittance into these rooms is for VIPs who purchase the service of whomever might be inside, depending on their preferred theme.
Two of the rooms are already blocked out, meaning they're occupied.
I can’t help but wonder what Lily might think if she knew places like this existed. I wonder if she’s been at Lev herself. If she has, she's certainly not ventured past the ground floor. The upper levels are where temptation and sin are catered to and encouraged.
This club is based on fantasy and animalistic pleasure.
However, more often than not, those who enter vaguely know each other.
In fact, most of them want to be known, though some prefer to slip under the radar so they can enjoy personal affairs, the mystery, or often the sexual fantasies they might not ordinarily get elsewhere.
The two bouncers who stand at the next staircase size me up but say nothing as I proceed to the third level, where business is conducted or private parties are held.
It’s different from when I first met Dmitri here, and he had women dressed in leather and rabbit masks all over him. Now they fixate on other powerful men partaking in the depravity on offer.
Two men have removed their masks, and I’m not surprised to see they’re well-known businessmen within the wealthy circle of Dmitri’s professional dealings.
Dmitri, however, sits in the center, his legs crossed, his horned skull-like mask resting on a table beside him.
The third floor is the only one where masks are permitted to be removed.
His blue gaze follows me expectantly as he nurses a drink that won't be finished by the end of the night. I imagine he holds one to feign a recovery he hasn’t yet truly reached since his brain surgery.
I’ve heard he’s become less active with regard to his club; however, I think that has more to do with who’s waiting at home for him.
It’s strange to know that even a playboy like Dmitri can settle for one woman.
A figure stumbles from the private bathroom on the left, still pulling up his fly, and walks straight into me.
“Sorry, my dude,” Vince says, looking up, his own mask already removed. His eyes are dilated, and he squints, as if trying to make out who I am. I make it easier by removing my mask.
Vince’s eyes widen. “My man!” He jumps joyfully. “I should’ve known you two were friends!” He points at Dmitri, shaking his finger as if he were holding out on some secret. I don’t know what similarities Dmitri and I could possibly have for him to conclude we’re friendly toward one another.
Then again, Vince is also shitfaced on fuck knows what, so in his world, perhaps everyone is good friends.
Vince staggers toward the table, drops to his knees at the edge, and snorts a line of coke. I briefly glance at Dmitri, who says nothing. The other two men cheer Vince on like he’s some kind of legend.
“Come on, do a line with me, man!” Vince looks to me, wide-eyed, his smile just as big.
“It’s not my thing.” I look down at the poker chips and cards in front of us. Most of the chips are piled in front of Dmitri. Doesn’t seem like much of a challenge, since everyone else at the table is off their fucking faces and more fascinated with the women’s tits on display.
“Hey, handsome,” one of them purrs, walking up behind me, her nails grazing across my shoulder. “You seem tense,” she says as she grabs either side of my neck as if to start massaging.
I place my hand on hers. “I recommend you don’t touch me. I’ll only say it once.” I give her hand a forceful enough squeeze to make my point, but not hard enough to hurt.
She’s quick to recoil, and I have the sudden urge to shower all over again because of her presumptuous touch.
Lily’s blue eyes flash in my mind, and I readjust my suit, uncomfortable. I don’t know why I think of her when another woman touches me. All I know is I hate the smell of this woman because it isn’t the sweet floral scent to which I’ve become accustomed.
Dmitri chuckles, and I don’t like how he looks at me, as if knowing something I don’t. “Should we play another hand?”
“Yes, let’s!” Vince slams his palms on the table excitedly. He shoves his hands in his pockets and then looks up at me with a smile. “Fuck, I don’t have any more cash on me.”
I raise an eyebrow but dip into my inside pocket.
Money is only a tool; if it creates favor in a situation like tonight, then so be it.
I throw some on the table, and Vince's eyes widen as the dealer offers us chips.
This is by no means a professional game.
Those who enjoy gambling know to go to the Balmere club, which Luca owns, for that purpose.
Vince sits beside me, grabbing one of the women, who squeals as he places her on his lap.
He licks his lips excitedly, and the difference between the man I met at the Taylors’ house and the one sitting here now is like day and night.
I wonder what Lily would think if she saw her brother in this state.
I don’t usually care for what others do in their spare time, but I imagine this is very different from the respectful man she’s built him up to be.
“Vince was telling me he’s only in town for another week,” Dmitri begins as our cards are dealt. Two cards are placed in front of me, and I take a peek—Queen of Hearts and Queen of Spades.
Not a bad start.
I’m not usually a gambling man, but I’ve played my fair share of poker.
“Oh, helping your father with business here?” I ask, pretending to deliberate on whether to check or fold. I call.
“Yeah, something like that,” Vince says, still licking his lips and raising with a quarter of his chips. Interesting. If this is how he plays, I can see how Dmitri bled him dry already.
“Yeah, well, if you weren’t fucking it up, you’d be back in London already,” one of the other men says.
“I’m not fucking it up,” Vince says defensively, and his gaze sheepishly moves between Dmitri and me as he shrugs. “My old man and I have different views on how things should be run. That’s all. Every business has highs and lows. Surely, you’ve experienced it as well.”
“As if my dad would ever let me run his business,” one of the others scoffs. “As long as he keeps putting money into my account, I’ll stay out of his hair and be on my best behavior. Well, at least I won’t be caught. I fold.”
Vince’s knee starts bouncing, even when he tries to distract himself with the woman on his other one.
“It’s never easy when a deal goes wrong,” I say sympathetically, and Vince looks at me like I'm a beacon of hope.
“Yeah. Like, shit happens all the time. It’s a shame my father’s so hung up on Lily dating Riley because I actually like you, Lorenzo. You’re not a bad guy,” he says, watching as the next three cards are turned over. Another queen sits amongst them.
Ironically, he’s wrong about both. The idea that I’m not a bad guy is laughable, because on the wrong night or if I'm in a bad mood, I can be the worst. And Lily certainly is not going on a date with that Riley dickhead.
“I certainly don’t intend on handing Lily over to any man, whether your father approves of it or not.
Why is he so hell-bent on the idea that I’m not the right guy?
” I question carefully, making it sound like it's coming from a place of insecurity, when the true question is why her father is suddenly so insistent on her marrying.
Vince shrugs as he raises two-thirds of his remaining chips with a cocky grin.
Dmitri doesn’t say anything as he folds, silently watching us.
“Fuck it, I fold,” the guy sitting across from me says. “I need to take a piss anyway.”
“Fold,” the next man says as he grins and shoves his face into the tits of the woman on his lap. Like the others, she’s wearing a rabbit mask, and she giggles beneath the mask. “I could drown in these all day,” he says, his voice muffled.
Vince is staring with a shit-eating grin as he only half answers me.
“My father’s old school. You know, gaining reputation and favor through family connections.
Even when it bites him in the ass, and he wants me to clean up after his mess.
He never fucking changes,” he says, distracted by the woman on his knee as he squeezes the inside of her thigh, his gaze raking over her body appreciatively.