CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
SAINT
The club sits at the edge of the island.
A pair of security men in tailored black suits flanks the entrance doors.
Inside, the world shifts. Everything is low-lit, night-soaked, and modern.
Shadows curve around every surface. The underground nightclub, TK, thrums with hedonistic chaos, writhing bodies, and bass music that rocks through the charged space.
The bodyguards take me through the disarray to the lounge on the third floor of the gigantic building.
I fall behind them, and we stroll down the hall to an open lounge. “Wait for the boss here.”
“Alright.”
I sit on the leather couch, resting my arm on the top.
My phone buzzes, and the screen lights up in my breast pocket.
I pull it out and see the message from the PI I texted on my drive here.
He’s on his way. Around me, erotic photos of men and women hang on the wall, reflecting in the low amber light.
Beneath the floor, music from the club thrums and filters through the expanse in shallow beats.
Outside, two of Prince’s men stand on guard, manning the entrance.
The door creaks, and Prince steps into the room. He’s tall. Ink-black, straight coils of hair frame his oval face. His deep brown eyes shine under the low amber light, the glow accentuating his brown skin. “Saint King. It is nice to see you.” He smiles as he sits opposite me.
“Hello, my friend.” I smile. “I thought we would have had the benefit of meeting at the office.”
“This place is so much better.” I hum under my breath.
A server steps into the room with a tray of red wine and glasses.
She uncorks the wine and tilts the bottle forward, pouring the dark red liquid into the glasses one after another.
“Let’s drink.” Prince reaches out to the glass and holds it in his hand.
I follow suit. “Thank you.” He whispers to the server before she leaves the room.
“So?” He drinks again. “We are here to discuss business. I think it’s best to dive right into it.” He smiles.
Prince owns this place. An exclusive club for the rich, almost like Red Horn. It’s one of the only things his father left behind after their syndicate fell. “I never thought you’d be someone who mixes business with pleasure.” I look around the room that surrounds us.
“I don’t mix business with pleasure. I keep both at arm’s length, but what can I say, Red Horn Club can get very addictive,” his eyes narrow, lingering on me a bit too long.
I take a sip from my glass, shifting uncomfortably on the leather couch.
“I’ll get straight to it.” His demeanor shifts to a controlled, serious one.
He slides a presentation across the table.
“The proposed contract secures exclusive development rights for the waterfront properties over the next five years.” He explains his pitch.
He’d secured some of the islands surrounding Genesis City and had started building his luxury hotel structures about a year ago.
The project was nearing completion. But he needs funding. Funding from my company.
“What do you say, business partner?” He extends his hand. I take it and shake it firmly with a smile. Then I lift the presentation and look through the proposal’s pages.
“Why didn’t you bring this a year ago?” I inquire, and his features harden. “Your project is months away from completion, Prince.”
“Breach of contract from my business partner.”
“And how do you expect me to trust you when you couldn’t handle your previous contract?”
“Who says I breached the contract?” He leans back and stares at me. “Look, you have my word, Saint King.” He declares, desperation weighing on his voice.
“I’ll think about it. If your proposal checks out, we’ll sign a contract.”
“Perfect.” He stands up and heads toward the open curtains, staring through the window. “Now let’s talk about underworld business.” He looks over his shoulder with a smirk. “I think I’m a target, and I need someone to protect me. Someone highly skilled.”
“What? Hire a bodyguard. Have someone pledge to your House.”
“Virgil.” He speaks slowly, but there is an edge to his voice.
“Virgil, as in my brother, Virgil King,” a cold shadow crosses my expression, too fast to name. “What makes you think he’s willing to work for you?”
“Because we have a history.” He faces me, and I lift my gaze, watching him, wondering if I could decipher his thoughts.
“My brother’s unhinged.”
“Excuses. Excuses.” He whines. “That’s why he’s perfect.”
“My brother is unavailable. He’s leading…” I stop myself before I can give away too much information. He can’t know that an enemy has invaded my city with plans I’m yet to uncover.
“An ongoing investigation to find out who stole your cargo before it could leave the harbor. Or the warehouses set on fire. I’m willing to get your shipment safely to your associates without disruption if you’re willing to talk to your brother.
” He tilts his head, studying me like a man studies the steel he uses to skin animals.
“We both benefit from this. You get your cargo across the country while I get the protection I need from your brother.”
I reach for my holster immediately and pull out my gun. I cock it, and he raises his hands in surrender. “How do you know about my stolen cargo?” My stare pins him in place.
“I run Kane Enterprises. I have eyes and ears everywhere in this country. You need help, so do I. Put the gun down.” He speaks as if he’s offering me mercy.
“Hmm,” I grunt. “I’ll think about it,” I say.
“You have until the wedding.”
“Alright.”
Prince’s family was neither friend nor foe. It was part of the reason he contacted me to pitch his proposition for his waterfront property.
“You’ll see my email on Monday.”
“Right.” I holster my gun and extend my hand to him. We shake hands before I turn and leave the lounge.
As I step outside the premises and walk to the parking lot, I regard the gray sedan parked beside my car.
It’s the PI I hired. He’s worked for my late uncle a few times and has always delivered.
The last time I heard rumors about him was three years ago.
A man like him sticks to the shadows, revealing himself only when he’s needed.
His car door clicks as he steps into the light.
“Ali.”
“Saint.” His face lightens. “What do you need from me?”
“I have enemies in my city.” I circle the rear door window to unlock the trunk.
I lift the retractable tonneau cover and pull a file in a brown envelope.
It contains pictures that Cross provided before I left the city with Mason.
Pictures he got from several city cameras of Neo.
Pictures of Mason. I was hesitant about him, but I asked him to add everything he covered when he vetted him for the personal assistant position at the company.
He’d shown up when all of this started, and I just wanted to clear his name, make sure he wasn’t involved in any of it.
I hand Ali the file, and he looks at the pictures inside the envelope. “That young man is special. I need to know everything about him.” I lean against the car and cross my arms.
“Everything?”
“Yes, Ali,” I say. “How long will it take?”
“Two weeks or more, but I’ll do a thorough investigation.”
“I trust you will.”
He salutes as he enters his car and drives out of the parking lot.
Just as Ali leaves, Bernard’s car enters, slowing down in front of me. What the fuck is he doing here? My brows arch, and I take a step forward just as Mason gets out of the car. “What are you doing here?”
“I, um, I found this place online and asked Bernard to drive me.” He says without meeting my gaze.
I grumble under my breath and look at Bernard. “Get home, Bernard. I’ll take care of this.”
“Alright, boss.” The man salutes and heads into the car. We stand in the awkward silence until Bernard drives away.
“I’m going to head into the club.”
“And how will you get back to the house?”
“I could book a taxi.” He shrugs and meets my gaze.
My nose flares with annoyance as I regard him one more time.
Of course, he’s here to push my buttons.
To make me feel that fucking feeling I hate so much.
“Are you coming to the club or not?” He asks and turns on his heel, stalking toward the entrance.
Fuck!
I’m only staying here just in case he gets himself into trouble. Or do something reckless that’ll have Prince’s men point a gun at him.
As I fall behind him, a feeling of dread sinks into my stomach and snakes its way into my heart. I don’t want to do this, but I can’t leave him.
Call it whatever you want, but I can’t bear the thought of another man putting his hands on him.
I won’t let anyone close enough to dance with him or worse, touch him.
He’s off-limits. He’s mine.