7. Chapter 4 - Aaron
I f you cheat, may you cheat death.
The proverb danced around in my mind as I entered the red double doors to Club 7.
The long hallways of dark velvet and dim lighting no longer offered me the warm, familiar comfort I had felt since I was sixteen. Club 7 had once been my haven; the palace in which I held court.
Walking through it now, it felt more like a dungeon of my demise; the thick carpeting and soothing music suffocating reminders of the empire I would soon lay to ruin.
In my thirty-five years, I had become many shades of gray to rule this world as if I owned its bounty. Profiting off humanity’s most basic desires was an easy leash to hold; a simple product to sell.
Knowing my hedonistic castle was to be transformed into a den of sexual slavery turned the acid in my stomach to lava, but I would have to endure this place one more day.
One more day before…
For the first time, I didn’t have the answer to where my next day would take me. I had to trust in Mi Reina and the man who should be my greatest enemy. Here I stood, putting full faith in two people who would have handsomely profited if they’d buried me in a shallow grave outside the city.
Instead, Kellan had offered me a dignified end, and she—she fought for my honor when I had nothing left to give. They were now the only allies I had in this world, unaffected by the poisonous taint of my parents’ touch.
Kellan had entrusted me with his greatest secret; I would carry it to my grave. I could only ask for the gift of time to avenge his enemies before I rested there.
If either of you dies, Kellan, I might as well be dead, too.
The words were recorded in my mind and imprinted on my soul. Wherever fate led me, my path was destined to be intertwined with hers, and through that admission—his.
I was not a hopeful man, nor a trusting one. Resignation was not pushing me forward. Faith in her—and him, by proxy, would lead me through this next phase of uncertainty. I would hide in the shadows while they played their pieces on the board. Then I would bury my parents in the coffins I’d promised them.
The Irishman, however—that man would not live under my watch. Mi Reina believed he could be manipulated to be useful—I would not hesitate to slit his throat if he proved otherwise.
“Mr. Rodrig uez?”
The short blonde woman—Rosa—who ran the front end of Club 7, interrupted my thoughts, her squeaky voice at odds with her sultry exterior.
Her eyes darted nervously across my battered face; the cuts and bruises were healing and covered with a high-quality foundation, but still visible. Fear crossed her features, confusing me. I was not a man to admire, but I’d garnered respect from my employees, if nothing else. Never fear.
“I’m sorry, sir, we weren’t—ah—expecting you this evening. She is not ready for you.”
My attendee—the woman whose name I still did not know—whom I hadn’t seen since the ribbon cutting, when she’d mysteriously appeared in the crowd.
I’d remained committed to Mi Reina . I had not touched the woman since I’d failed to get my cock up in her presence the last time. I was resigned to my future with a woman who wanted me, but wouldn’t commit to me, and found myself uninterested in the cunt of another.
In my current circumstances, I would likely only receive gratification from the touch of my own hand and the vivid memories of her riding me into the carpet of my office.
“I am not here for pleasure.” I brusquely moved past Rosa into the stairwell behind her that led to my office on the floor above. “I will only be here for an hour to review some paperwork. Please do not disturb me.”
Her nod was hesitant, but she said nothing else, so I left her to play host to our guests. Wednesdays were quiet, but she’d be busy enough with the regular clientele to ensure I wasn’t interrupted.
The office was a glorified closet; the tight space offered a desk, a chair, and a few cabinets behind a locked door. My father and I were the only two people with access.
Surprise filled me as I unlocked the door and found I was not alone.
A m ale figure sat at the end of the desk, his trousers down around his ankles; a dark head of black hair bobbed between his legs.
The woman obviously worked here, dressed in the Club 7 uniform—a micro-pleated black skirt and black sequined bustier, with red sequined 4-inch stilettos tied around her feet. Employees could only service clientele in the provided rooms downstairs, as a protective measure. Whatever this was, it was not a client call.
My father’s taunting grin, a grin too close to my own when I bothered to smile, stared back at me. It molded into a vicious sneer, reinforcing my thirst for blood and revenge.
I said nothing as the woman completed her task. Vicente’s eyes finally left mine and rolled upward as he forced his putrid cum down her waiting throat.
“ Tonto ,” he purred, as he gripped the woman’s jaw in a tight hand and pulled her to her feet, cutting off her air supply as he did so. Her body jerked forward, the lack of oxygen causing her limbs to spasm in my father’s hold.
Within seconds, I was upon them. I ripped her from his grasp and shoved her behind me. One look at her face told me she was my regular attendee.
Aside from the rage I felt at her mishandling, our contract stated clearly that she was mine and mine only. She was not to be touched; whether or not I was fucking her, she was paid handsomely, and the agreement was still in place.
Her selection today had been intentional.
A furious growl escaped my lips and I scowled at the half-naked man smirking back at me. Vicente’s figurative balls were far larger than his physical set, the shriveled sacs hanging from the desk like the pathetic disappointments they were.
“She is not to be touched, Veijo .” I stepped into his space and loomed over his body as he made no attempt to pull his pants back up. “Cover yourself and leave. I am still building your coffin.”
His eyes darkened at the challenge. He stood tall and assured, his height within millimeters of my own, as though attempting to force me into submission.
I hadn’t bowed to this man in years. Today would be no different.
“She will pull them up for me,” he commanded, eyes full of malicious intent as he dipped his head toward the woman behind me.
“She will not,” I spat. Losing my patience, I yanked them up for him, keeping my face as far away from his sack as possible. I shoved the unbuttoned folds of fabric into his own hands.
“Leave, or I will hand the keys of this entire network to Lane Enterprises, and she can do what she will.”
It was the most dangerous threat I could manage. This man cared not about money or weapons or morals. He had mastered manipulation and would carefully disseminate many rumors to ensure my downfall. But to endanger his business by handing it to an American woman, one with more wealth and power than him?
It was the most revolting premise to his kind of man.
The wrathful hate in his gaze reinforced what I knew in my heart to be true. I was nothing but a sacrificial lamb. His critical mistake was to mislabel me as such—I was the dark wolf in sheep’s clothing, waiting patiently for the kill of a lifetime.
“You are a castrated man, mi hijo. Los débiles . You are no son of mine.”
“As you are no padre .” I hardened my stare and grabbed his bicep tightly. “Leave, now.”
I shoved him past his captive, who’d remained where she was, despite the door still wide open to the hall.
He hovered in the doorway, disheveled and glowering.
“ I am unafraid of making a scene, father.” I levelly met his glare with a calm, patronizing stare. “Leave.”
With a final fierce scowl of loathing, he brushed himself off, then proceeded down the stairs.
Resolution filled me; I had planned on today being my last day on the premises, but I had a responsibility to protect the people under my care. Even if it was to be a temporary measure.
My attention landed on one such person. She’d averted her gaze to the floor, her head bowed in submission.
“Are you alright?”
It was not my nature to care for anyone’s needs but my queen, though I was compelled to ask the question. The woman’s gaze rose to meet mine for a moment before falling back down to the ground.
“Yes.”
Her gesture was compliant, but the assurance was spit out in bitter anger between gritted teeth.
I ignored it. I could not soothe the sting of my father’s venomous bite. But I could grant her leave to escape this place before my parents inevitably turned the safe space into a predator playground.
“I can dismiss you today, with pay. You will not need to see him again.”
Moving around the desk, I grabbed a pen and notepad from the drawer to proceed with just that.
“No.” Her head snapped up, her eyes flashing in a fierce defiance I knew very well. “He doesn’t get that kind of power. I choose to stay.”
I took her in, truly looking at her for the first time in weeks. She was quite striking even in the dim confines of the office. Dark features, thick lustrous hair, broad hips and a lithe, muscular body—still feminine enough to be considered pretty, but with enough of a flair to stand out in a sea of beautiful escorts. She’d come highly recommended from an associate, and my people hired her on the spot.
“ Very well.” I dropped the pen onto the desktop. “But I must inform you, I will no longer be needing your services. If you are to stay, you must take a new assignment. I’ll be upping security measures, and I expect you to report if you’ve been treated poorly.”
Long brown lashes blinked rapidly, but her face remained impassive and unreadable. “Yes, sir.”
I gestured to the hallway, dismissing her. “I’ll speak to Rosa today. Please speak of this to no one.”
I ushered her through the doorway and closed it shut, locking it before I sat down behind the desk.
Closing my eyes, I took a moment to center myself and bury the rage simmering below the surface of my skin. There was no time to be angry; I had to remove a few key files and abandon this place with a handful of directives to my top staff. Primarily to enforce the rules, and keep employees safe until my parents rendered them useless.
Then I would change the locks on the office and the facility. It was the petulant gesture of a spoiled child, but it would impede my father inflicting damage, even for a day.
The other brothels under our ownership would have to fend for themselves. The hourglass of my day was running out of sand—I couldn’t waste another moment.
I cleared out the desk, sent off a few messages, and quietly locked the door behind me, taking the discreet entrance into the back stairwell to avoid another run-in with Rosa with a stack of files in my arms.
Gabriella awaited me at the company office—the company office that would be entirely under Hillary’s control as of tomorrow.
Despite my accomplishments being swept off to others, all I felt was relief.
Kellan’s mercy and Hillary’s interference had gifted me a new opportunity—one I would not squander. Legacies were built and rebuilt.
I w ould mortar each brick of my next legacy with the blood of my enemies. Beginning with Marco Alvarez and ending with Vicente Rodriguez.
“You good?”
Kellan’s gruff tone interrupted my thoughts as I gazed onto the landscape of a bustling city below my office window, the people scurrying along sidewalks like ants in the freshly fallen snow.
Perhaps this would be the final time I looked out on this view. Would I return from the dead one day to retake my castle and my rightful place as leader of this company? Would I even desire such a thing after a true taste of freedom?
I didn’t know the answers. A familiar numbness had spread through my limbs and into the fabric of my heart, keeping my emotions at bay. A protective shield I was well used to wearing.
Kellan and I had strategized my death through the cloak of private telephone calls and text messages—never in person for risk of being seen.
My executioner could not fraternize with his victim without a mark placed on his own head.
I’d gotten to know the man in this brief window of time, in far greater capacity than any of Jediah’s showy parties. He was very calculating, a strategist—and his ideas were well deliberated.
For years, I had considered him the masculine oaf to scratch Hillary’s itches, and I was pleased to learn my judgment had been misplaced. His fierce loyalty to her and the vicious hatred he held for his family ties mirrored my own—I felt bonded to this man who had once been a stranger.
“ I am good, companero .” I nodded though he did not see it. “I am ready to shed this skin and leave it to rot.”
Hillary’s Viking partner chuckled low through my headset, and the sound brought a smile to my own lips.
“Good.” He responded succinctly, in the way I was learning Kellan did. The man spoke only when he had something valuable to say, in order to command attention when he did.
I liked that about him.
“He’s already at the restaurant,” Kellan continued in my ear. “You’ll want to leave in the next five.”
“It is done,” I assured him and turned on the spot to pull my coat from its rack and the small messenger bag with my things. “Jacques will take me now.”
“Remember,” he reminded me, “no threats on your end, but make sure he gives you something we can use—goad him until you do.”
“It is done,” I repeated, exiting through the entrance doors of my empire without a backward glance. “I will call shortly.”
We hung up as Jacques rounded the corner of the parking area, having been waiting for me. I directed him to the restaurant of the evening and he drove us there with impeccable timing, as always. Of all my staff, I would especially miss this man.
Exiting the vehicle with instructions for him to wait for me, I straightened my tie and walked through the barrel door alcove, waving the hostess off as I searched for my prey.
I stalked to him, pores already clogging from his greasy aura; the coating of malicious intent slicked my skin with a noxious film.
“You are a challenging man to track down, Culicagado .”
I spat the Colombian insult as I stared down at the white-collar businessman, seated alone at his usual table in Les Augustin. A hearty spread of filet mignon and lobster filled the plates on the table, an exorbitant amount of food for one.
Marco Alvarez grinned up at me, his arrogant shark-tooth smile alight with undisguised delight and his shiny teeth glowing in the dim light of the café.
“Aaron Rodriguez,” he boomed, dipping his fingers in the lemon water cleanse in front of him and wiping them between crisp linen napkins. “I’m surprised to see you here. Didn’t your parents kick you to the curb?”
His words were dipped in acid, intending to burn; this man did not know I was already marked for death—the words of little men were of no consequence.
Scoffing brusquely, I took the seat in front of me, directly across from him, ignoring his useless taunt. Being rid of my parents would be the most positive outcome of my disappearance. Soon, I would make their riddance a permanent state of being.
“My parents will plead temporary insanity one day soon.”
I reached for the basket of bread rolls in the center of the table and cracked one open with my hands. I began buttering it from the whipped pat beside it. “You are misguided if you believe I am nothing without them. Hillary and I have more than enough prospects to rival your newest arrangement.”
I shrugged and leaned back in my chair, as if I were unaffected by his moves on the board. “I have no need for false promises for more money and power. Veronica and Vicente would whore themselves out for an additional ounce of either.”
I bit into the bread roll, tasting nothing as I chewed and swallowed the crusty dough as Marco Alvarez chuckled heartily.
“Your parents were easily swayed,” he said, agreeably, slicing into his rare steak and taking a bite. “You and Hillar y may be harder to break, but I assure you, you will break.”
The amusement in his eyes morphed into the steely determination of a jungle cat hunting an elephant—the look of a man whose hubris far outweighed any source of sense. He was cunning and ruthless, certainly—only such people would dare get into bed with my parents, let alone vie for their attention.
His threat was confident, his intentions clear. It was not enough he was challenging Antonio and pulling down the sheets for the bed he’d made with Veronica and Vicente—he was determined to remove Hillary and I from the board as well.
A false prophet was dangerous when he believed in his own rhetoric.
“We are not breakable,” I mused, pouring myself a glass of red wine from the table, raising the glass to him in a toast. “But if you choose to invest resources to discover this for yourself, you’ll invest poorly. Be my guest.”
I drew a sip of the rich, earthy wine and mulled it with my tongue, enjoying its delicate sweetness and sharp finish as my opponent watched me with hawkish eyes across the table.
His medium build had rounded over the years; his body no longer held the threatening aura of a hardened criminal. He drew fear from his eyes, able to shift from content family man to cold-hearted murderer with a single blink; a psychopathic light switch.
I held no fear of the pathetic visage of a man in front of me. He was another stooge in a sea of small men, determined to rise on the backs of others by breaking spines and snapping necks.
True power came from resilience and resolve; a cause worth fighting for. I had been an aimless man before now, handcuffed to my wealth and tethered to the expectations of others. I would now bask in my freedom from a gilded cage, though far freer than I’d ever been in this lifetime, under the protection of a woman who cared for me.
Hillary was now my purpose. Trusting her and keeping her safe by temporarily removing myself from the equation. Trusting in Kellan to protect us both while we knocked more pawns off the board.
Weak men rush into battle without swords and shields, proving their stupidity, not their bravery. Patience is a virtue, and I had it in spades. I would bide my time until I inserted the knife into Alvarez’s heart myself.
“I am here as a warning.” I fingered the stem of the wineglass and eyed the tawdry man over its rim. “Your entire operation will be exposed within days if you come after Lane Enterprises, or any of our outstanding contracts. I am still aligned with our previous friends, and they will not take kindly to your interference.”
An outright lie—Antonio expected me dead and buried any day now, but Kellan had assured me the hit on my life was a private request. None of what I said mattered, regardless. Today wasn’t about taunting Alvarez into useless confessions. It was about being seen, and hopefully, heard.
Alvarez chewed, looking thoughtful as his gaze never left my face, scrutinizing my intentions.
“You’re bluffing, Rodriguez. Run home and hide before I come to get you. You’re next.”
There it was; the thin wisps of a threat, but there it was.
Satisfied, I rose from my seat and stared down at the man who would be tortured by my hands soon enough.
“Even great men bow to the sun,” I quoted one of my favorite poets as my bulk loomed over his thin form. I smiled. “Consider me the star in your night sky.”
Walking down the restaurant aisle, I dialed a number and hovered in the entryway near the hostess desk, where a petite Latina woman was sanitizing menus.
“ If anything happens to me, it’ll be Marco Alvarez’s doing.” I growled into the phone within earshot. “He just threatened me.”
“Good,” came Kellan’s reply. The masculine roughness of his voice slightly filtered through the phone line. “And you got the recording?”
“Yes,” I said succinctly, eyeing the woman who was poorly eavesdropping, as I’d hoped.
“Good work.” Kellan’s praise slid over me like a warm blanket; I was surprised by how much I enjoyed its comfort. “That’ll be all we’ll need when the time comes.”
I hung up without another word, bracing for my incoming life of solitude and seclusion, a temporary reprieve while we made our next move.
Revenge was a dish best served cold. Alvarez would soon be knee-deep in gazpacho, his blood the broth, his bones the bread.
A feast fit for a king.