For a moment, Diamond froze, the words catching in her throat. But she forced herself to speak, her tone cool and measured, “Teller. This is Diamond, from the Royal Harlots.”
There was a brief pause, just long enough for her to wonder if he was surprised or if he’d been expecting this call all along.
Teller said finally, his voice carrying a faint edge of amusement, “To what do I owe the pleasure, Diamond?”
“The Royal Harlots are hosting a fundraiser event in two weeks,” Diamond said, forcing her voice to stay steady despite the tightness in her chest. “It’s a Casino night. They’ll begambling, food, drinks, support clubs—both female and male. I’m extending an invitation to your chapter.”
The words felt heavy as she said them, the weight of her reluctance bleeding into her tone. She didn’t want them there, but it was necessary.
There was a brief silence on the line, broken only by the faint crackle of static. Then Teller’s deep voice responded, calm but curious, “Thanks. What’s the fundraiser for?”
Diamond’s jaw tightened for a second. Of course he’d ask. She could have kept it vague, but that wasn’t her style. She wouldn’t cheapen the cause by skirting around it.
“We’re raising money for an organization that supports homes for traumatized children,” she said. Her voice softened despite herself, the tension easing for just a moment. She couldn’t help it. The children were her priority, so she wouldn’t let personal feelings interfere.
“Kids, huh?” Teller responded, his tone shifting slightly, though she couldn’t quite pin down the emotion behind it. Respect? Interest? Something else?
“Yeah,” she said firmly. “The homes provide safety, counseling, and stability for kids who’ve been through hell. Abuse, neglect... things no kid should have to endure. The money we raise will cover essentials—clothing, food, security upgrades. The things they need to start healing.”
Teller was quiet for a beat, and Diamond wondered if he was weighing her words or just letting the silence do the work for him.
“That’s a hell of a cause,” he said finally, his voice steady but carrying a note of sincerity she hadn’t expected. “Count us in. We’ll be there.”
Diamond exhaled, though the tightness in her chest didn’t fully go away. “Good. I’ll send over the details.”
“Appreciate the invite,” Teller said, his tone edging toward something lighter. “Anything else we should know?”
She hesitated for a split second. There were things heshouldn’tknow, but that wasn’t the question. “Just come ready to enjoy yourself. And keep your boys in line,” she added sharply, a bit of her edge creeping back in.
Teller chuckled softly. “Always do. See you in two weeks, Diamond.”
She hung up without responding, letting the receiver fall back into place with a click. Leaning back in her chair, she glanced at Nova, who was watching her with a neutral expression.
“Well?” Nova asked.
“They’re in,” Diamond said, her voice a mix of resignation and determination. “Now we just have to make sure they stay out of the things they don’t need to know.”
Nova smirked faintly. “You think they’re going to be a problem?”
“Aren’t they all a problem?” Diamond muttered. “But we’ll handle it.”
“When do you want to let the girls know?” Nova asked, picking up one of the many lists on the desk.
“Call a meeting for tonight. We’ll go over some of the last-minute things we need to see to and let them know about the Bastards.”
Nova gave her a nod and left Diamond to her list.
When the office door closed, Diamond let out a sigh. And with that, she shoved the sticky note aside and moved on to the next challenge on her endless list.
Chapter Two
Teller
Teller set the phone aside, staring at it as if willing it to ring again. The conversation lingered in his mind; the words replaying like a haunting refrain. He hadn’t asked for information on the Harlots… not yet. He’d been informed by Jameson about the Bastards aligning themselves with the Harlots. Quebec City Chapter was the closest, so they were the Montreal’s Chapter’s sisters.
Drumming his fingers on the desk, his thoughts churned in rhythm with the faint, hollow taps of his knuckles against the wood. He could feel the frustration bubbling under his skin, the gnawing itch of needing answers. Sherlock could give him what he wanted—what heneeded.The tech always came through.
With a sharp exhale, Teller shoved his chair back, the legs scraping against the floor with a grating screech. He stood, rolling his shoulders, and cast a glance around the empty room. The hall felt too quiet, too still, the type of quiet that sank into your bones and made you restless.
