Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 102335 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102335 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Royce barks out a laugh, smacking me on my back. “Well, shit. You know you’ve scared the shit out of the brothers and girls with how you’ve acted since she’s been around. Seen a whole new side to you. One I don’t think any of us expected.”
I kick out my feet, bringing my eyes to his. “I wanna throw her on a level…”
Royce pauses, the bottle an inch from his mouth. “She’s fucking hot, I get that—and if you tell Jade I said so, I’ll deny it—but I can’t be in on that game, brother. You know I’m dicked down.”
I raise my brows at him, my mouth curving into a smirk. “I wasn’t asking you to be joining. Don’t get jealous.”
Royce scratches the bridge of his nose. “Khaos?”
Flicking the lid to the bottle, I nod. “Yeah.”
“You sure?” Royce asks carefully. “I mean, he’s young and has already spoken about her on numerous occasions. He’d be like a dog in heat with all that.”
I stifle a laugh. “She’s getting married, I’ve just got to make sure it’s my dick she’s thinking about when he’s inside her.”
“Damn. Would really love to be a part of this.”
I spend the next two days with Royce, casing out the new L’artisaniant in Chicago. I think deep down, Royce just doesn’t want to leave. I flat-out don’t want him to. Having another L’artisaniant isn’t hard to open or operate. We have been in this business for a long time and have people lining up to be employed here. Some come from home, others we gauge from here. Having it on the upper level of my hotel helps. The hotel my parents left along with the trust fund. The trust fund I couldn’t touch until everything came out.
Pushing open the doors that lead into the club, I stop at the threshold, seeing the dark marble walls and mirrored ceiling.
“Looks good,” Royce says from beside me, and we both make our way to the bar where Orson and Storm are. Storm is now some hot-shot coding genius and Orson plays professional basketball.
“This might be better than the one in San Fran…” Orson looks at me from over his glass, staring down the girl behind the bar.
“Agreed.” The theme of L’artisaniant isn’t for the weak-hearted. Every level, the kink intensifies. Level one is usually where people hover, level three is where Royce stays, but then… he has a limit. They all know I’ve never been lower than four.
“Opening tonight.” Storm sinks the rest of his drink, his eyes shifting between Royce and me. “What’s happened?”
“Nothing,” I answer before Royce can interfere. “But I need your help with something. I’ll send you over his name, and I want to know everything there is to know.”
“He has a kid,” Royce smirks from behind his glass.
I glare at him. “Asshole.”
“What!” He raises his hands up. “It hasn’t opened yet. We can still talk about our lives for”—he looks down at his watch—“about forty minutes.”
“Damn,” Storm answers, shaking his head. “I don’t wish I was you.”
“Yeah, you do.” Royce chuckles under his breath.
“Both of you shut the fuck up.”
Pushing up from the chair, I head to the escalators behind the bar that take you up to the second level. Each side of the escalator is encased by glass display rooms. In every room, people will be inside, performing. Fucking. Whatever.
I bring the glass to my mouth, moving through level two. A direct replica of level one, only flipped so the bar is toward the back. Booths line parts of the large area, with cages floating up ahead. The walls are a deep red, the furnishings all chrome. Staff are moving around, prepping for opening. I head to the back and up the escalator to level three, with the same display on either side. The walls are a milky shade of beige with mirrored ceilings again and the bar toward the side. The booths are a little less private now, with a light in every area to show silhouettes. There are also options to take one of the private rooms off to the side.
I stop at the bottom of the escalator to level four. Tomorrow is the first day I get to meet Wolf, since Ruby wanted to take it a tad slower into letting him know what’s happening. I don’t want to be drinking all fucking night. Aside from Ma telling her she needs to go out for a couple of nights and blow off some steam after taking over Victor’s job for years, I know that it’ll take more than that to get little Ruby La Rosa out of the house.
The escalator leads me up to level four. White walls, bar furnishings, and leather sofas are scattered around the room. LED lights line each sofa, where poles are lined throughout the room. Chairs are placed casually, and the whole back wall is a mirror, as well as the ceiling. No private rooms here. This is a free-for-all space. The last time someone got lost on level four, they went crying to the police, trying to press charges. It didn’t work. You sign an NDA and your rights away the second you set foot through L’artisaniant .