Desire
Leaving sleeping Aurora upstairs, I return to the main hall with the guests.
“We were starting to miss you, dear host!” A fat man in an expensive suit grins, roughly groping a moaning whore on his lap.
“You know how it is, gentlemen—a man has to have his fun,” I drawl, plastering my usual cocky smirk on my face and framing my sudden disappearance as if I just couldn’t help myself and snuck off with one of the girls.
A role that, to my fury, Aurora played all too well tonight in that whorish outfit.
The fat cats laugh, but I discreetly scan Jefferson.
He’s back to pawing one of the girls, lighting a cigar, showing no sign of recognizing Aurora.
But a minute ago, his savage tone was far too telling.
I’m almost certain the old bastard knows.
Three months ago, her picture was on every milk carton.
He figured out she was the hostage from that basement—the only witness to Alistair’s murder, the one I spared against all the rules.
Which means I lied and kept the girl for myself.
Consequently, she knows who killed Alistair, and if she talks, the trail will lead back to Jefferson as the one who ordered the hit. The old vulture won’t let her live.
There’s another possibility. Maybe he’s simply lusting after her. He saw a pretty girl in that collar and wanted to fuck her. Frankly, that’s just as good a reason for me to put a bullet between his eyes, but with a titanic effort of will, I hold my demons back and walk over to my seat.
“Sit down already, Desire,” Jefferson tosses out, waving his smoldering cigar. “By the way, why isn’t that stunning girl with you now?”
“She passed out, Robert,” I toss back, smirking. Let these fat cats interpret that however they want.
The fat man in the next chair guffaws, slapping his whore on the bare thigh. “Now that’s what I call youth and hot blood!”
“Accommodations will also be provided if any of you wish to retire,” I offer.
“I’m afraid I’m too old for overnight stays away from home anymore,” Jefferson says, with a condescending smile.
“As you wish. In that case, you’re welcome to take the girls with you for the night.” I nod.
“Wow! Now that’s a generous guy! Isn’t he, Rob?” The fat man rubs his hands together while Jefferson stretches his lips into a smile.
For the rest of the evening, I secretly watch him, trying to read what’s going on inside his gray head, and every fucking second, I’m on full alert, ready to draw my gun and open fire.
Jefferson shows no hostility and doesn’t mention Aurora again.
He doesn’t even touch the alcohol, just keeps smoking.
Unlike his flushed goons, he only seems to show interest in the club whores for show, but his gaze keeps drifting back to the door I took Aurora through.
When their convoy finally drives off, I’m left alone on the club’s front steps. Breathing in the cool air, I run through scenarios in my head: how exactly I’m going to put a bullet in Jefferson’s head first, and what the consequences from the family will be.
Returning to the empty hall, I stop a waiter, then grab a napkin, pick up the cigar butt from Jefferson’s ashtray, and tuck it into the inside pocket of my blazer. DNA, fingerprints, habits—it doesn’t matter. Before a war, you should study your enemy as thoroughly as possible.
Well, first, I need to punish my broken princess.
Aurora not only broke my direct order not to come here, she showed up at my club practically naked, parading herself like a piece of meat in front of a whole pack of vultures.
Jefferson was drooling over her—the one man who was never supposed to see her.
Now the Kingdom and everything I’ve built are at risk, along with both our lives.
Maybe, from the family’s perspective, I could fix everything easily—apologize and serve the old bastard her head on a platter.
Maybe Strangler would have done exactly that, but that option isn’t even on the table.
Aurora Vance is my reward. My girl. She will live for me, but her punishment will be unforgettable. She will learn to obey my word for her own good.