“I’m not taking your club, if that’s what you think, Duchess.” He assured me.
I looked up at him, shocked that he’d read my mind. “Then what are you doing?”
“I’m simply making a partnership deal.”
“Partners?”
He nodded and I sighed. “Do I have time to think about it?”
Both Colt and Stephanie shook their heads, but Jameson smiled. “If you didn’t, I’d question it.”
“Good, then I’ll let you know in the next couple days.”
As I shook his hand on it, he gave it a tight squeeze and a slight tug, pulling me in to whisper in my ear. “Don’t be stupid, Duchess. This is a good deal. And the way things look for you, girls going missing and all, you won’t be able to handle things alone for much longer. No matter who you have as backup. I know who runs the Turks, and he’s a fucking monster. He’ll stop at nothing, Duchess.”
He released me and I stepped away, staring back at him in shock. I quickly realized he knew a lot more than he had said. I followed all of them out of the Den and when we were finally outside, Colt came over to me, dragging me away from Rhea so we could talk privately.
“Are you insane?”
“Why didn’t you tell me that he knew about Caleb and my girls?”
“Because I didn’t know. Besides, Jameson has men everywhere. I’m sure he checked you out before he came out here. If he’s trusting, you enough to make a business deal, then I suggest you take it.”
“I don’t need to make business deals with anyone, Colt. Your sister can fucking handle herself.”
“Don’t be stubborn!”
“Don’t be a fucking mat!”
“You know absolutely nothing about what I’ve been through in that club for Jameson, for Dad. So you shut your mouth, and you listen to me for a second. You cannot handle the Turks alone.”
I glared at him for a few seconds, feeling my blood start to boil. “Jameson came to me with a business deal. NowIwill think about it. Period.”
I walked away, leaving him standing there as I grabbed Rhea and we headed to our motorcycles, which were parked down the street.
“Are you sure about this?” she asked.
“He wants to use our businesses, Rhea. Are you willing to give up Rouge Roulette?”
“Of course not.”
“Then let me think about it.”
She glanced at me before putting on her pink helmet, and we both revved our engines and took off. We both knew things were about to change, and not entirely to what we expected.
Chapter 12
Caleb
The Den was clean in a way that made you second-guess your own filth. Not a speck of dust on the black marble floors, not a smear on the deep red velvet walls. Everything gleamed under low golden lights. It was tailored for the wealthy, controlled for the sinister, and seductive for all. It was the kind of place that didn’t scream money, it whispered it through every polished surface and cigar-scented breath. Reaper, or Ryan Simon to those who bothered with his real name, ran this club like a military fortress. It had a reputation for keeping secrets. No press was allowed in. Phones and cameras were left at the door. There were absolutely no leaks. Whoever walked through those doors became a ghost the second they stepped inside. Suits filled the booths; mobsters, CEOs, arms dealers, and foreign dignitaries who needed a place to take out their sins, without leaving a trail.
Crystal chandeliers cast muted light over leather seating with backs tall enough to hide any dealing. Women worked the floor like they owned every man in the room, dressed in lace and leather that clung to curves designed to distract. They didn’t beg for attention; they demanded it. Every sway of the hip, everyflick of a heel, all calculated to pull secrets from the mouths of the powerful. You didn’t come here to forget your sins. You came here to indulge in them, and the women knew it. The booths were semi-private, curtained with heavy drapes when discretion was needed. Further back were the luxury rooms. Those were soundproof, locked tight, booked by those who could afford secrecy. Nothing here was accidental. Every inch of The Den was made to house power, deals, and appetites that weren’t meant for daylight. It wasn’t just a strip club; it was a business empire’s neutral ground. And tonight, it was mine.
Killic Consolidated Holdings. That’s what the world knew me as. The pristine face of a billion-dollar Turkish conglomerate. Clean, efficient, yet ruthless. They didn’t know it was built on blood and bricks laid by the Turkish mafia generations before I ever put on a suit. They didn’t know I was being groomed to inherit everything. They didn’t know the monster who ran it.
I leaned back in the cracked leather booth, sipping a whiskey I didn’t taste, answering in clipped Turkish as the Yakuza pitched something about ports and distribution chains. My jaw ached from clenching it too long. My body felt too tight in this suit, my nerves thrumming under the skin like a loaded wire.
My mind was on her.My Duchess.
