Arranged love

Friday morning, we’re pulling up to a remote private airport. It has six hangars. The one on the far right is open, and you can see the pristine jet inside. It’s white with a golden K in the middle of a black circle. Same logo that is all over Kingdom. “What is this?” I ask.

“My plane,” Titan answers.

He has a fucking jet?

Our Escalade SUV comes to a stop, and we exit and walk into the hangar. He helps me up the stairs, and I see the girls already on it. Jasmine has a pair of black Gucci glasses on and a glass of champagne in her right hand. It has the same logo on it, letting me know it’s from the casino. Haven has a bottle of water in hers.

“Do all of the Kings have a plane?” I ask, sitting down across from the girls in the white leather. A black table sets between us with a bowl full of fresh fruit.

“Yes,” Bones answers on the other side of the aisle. “Well, everyone except Grave.”

“Why doesn’t he have one?” I wonder.

“He did. He crashed it,” Titan answers, going to sit down next to Bones.

“How do you crash a plane?” Jasmine asks, laughing.

“Funny, I asked him that same question,” Bones says typing away on his phone. “But he was too fucked up to remember how it ended up in the Atlantic Ocean.”

“I mean, I can see one crashing. But surviving it?” Haven shakes her head. “That would be very low odds.” She takes a sip of her water.

“That’s why every jet has parachutes on it,” Titan adds. He leans over and starts whispering to Bones, ending our conversation regarding Grave and his near-death experiences. I’m not surprised in the least that Grave survived a plane crash. The boy is like a fucking cat, but he has ninety lives.

Haven claps her hands together softly. “So here we are. I’m ready to be filled in.”

I look over at Jasmine, and she shrugs. She doesn’t give a fuck who knows what we did in The Palace. I take a deep breath. “Okay …”

TITAN

WE SIT IN the living room at the Four Seasons in New York. The curtains in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows are pulled back, letting the sun shine in. I can practically hear Bones’s skin burning from the light as he sits beside me. He’s lucky he naturally has an olive skin tone, or he’d look like a vampire.

“Who are we waiting for?” Emilee asks from behind the couch.

“I have some friends who live here. Well, one of them lives here in New York full-time. The other lives in Vancouver,” Bones answers.

“You said they were contacts,” Jasmine corrects him. “Do you even have friends?”

“Very few.” He tosses back his drink when there’s a knock on the door.

He gets up to open the door to greet out guests. I stand as they enter the room. “Avery, Tristan, this is Titan, Luca, Nite. And these are the girls, Haven, Jasmine, and Emilee.” They each shake our hands and offer pleasantries.

The Decker brothers are both dressed in black suits. They look like they own a Fortune 500 company and model for GQ on the weekends. But I know differently. You don’t fuck with them. Their dead body count is higher than ours.

I notice Jasmine lower her sunglasses to introduce herself to them. The girl is always on the lookout for her next victim.

“This is Kayn, head of my security,” Avery introduces a third man.

I met the Deckers last year when Bones and I made a trip to Vancouver to look at some property. We’ve thought about opening up another casino there, but they have too many restrictions. Too much red tape. But we had dinner with them while there.

“May I get you a drink?” Emilee asks, standing from her spot on the couch.

“Scotch, please,” Avery answers.

“Same for me.” Tristan nods.

“And for you, Kayn?” Em asks.

“Just a water, please.”

She goes over into the kitchen, and I lean back in my seat. “Did you guys find anything?”

“Kink,” Tristan answers.

“Excuse me?” Jasmine asks with a smirk on her face.

“It’s an elite club,” he answers her. “Your guy has been spotted in Kink.”

“Okay. Where is it?” Bones asks.

“It’s not that simple,” Avery adds.

“Is it not open to the public?” I ask confused.

“Yes and no,” Tristan answers. “Thank you.” He takes the offered glass of scotch from Emilee. “It’s a two-story club in the heart of Manhattan. The entrance is on the first floor, and it’s like any other nightclub. But in the back, there’s a door that goes down to the bottom level.” He takes a sip. “It is not open to the public. You need a membership.”

“What kind of club requires a membership?” Haven asks. “Like an exclusive men’s club?”

“One that requires NDAs,” Tristan answers, pulling out his wallet. He opens it up and removes a card. He hands it to me. It’s a solid black card that reads Kink at the bottom in white letters. I look it over while he goes on. “That card is fifty grand a year.”

“What does it get you?” Jasmine asks, looking at it in my hand.

“Anything you want.” He winks at her.

“Wait,” Emilee starts as I hand the card off to Bones. “I’m confused. What does it actually get you? Why would they make you sign an NDA?” she continues.

Tristan takes a sip and leans forward, placing his elbows on his knees. “Kink is a sex club. You make it downstairs, and it’s five thousand square feet of nothing but glass rooms. One after the other. It also has a dance floor, its own bar, and a theater room. All you have to do is sign on the dotted line, and you can do anything you want with anyone you want while down there. Granted you don’t have limits. It’s a hundred percent consensual. Your NDA covers that as well.”

“Oh, I want to join.” Jasmine smiles.

Luca looks skeptical. Haven looks terrified, and Jasmine looks like she’s found her mothership.

“How do we know he was there, though?” Luca questions. “Do they keep a log of who comes in and when?”

“No.” Tristan shakes his head. “The only paper trail they have is the NDA. And no one has access to those. They don’t even provide the members with a copy.”

“And payment?” I add.

His blue eyes meet mine, and he smiles. “No. Our dues are required on the first of the year. In cash. Large bills. You show up. They run it through their money counter. Once done, they issue you a new card, and you’re on your way. No proof of payment. And they can suspend your membership at any given time for whatever reason.”

“Fuck. Can I buy into this franchise?” Jasmine asks with a whistle. “This sounds like my kind of business.”

Everyone laughs at her.

“But there’s the cards,” I say, trying to figure this out. “That’s how they keep track of everyone.”

“The card is just a tool to get you in. As if you were wearing a wristband to show you’re over twenty-one at a fair. It doesn’t have my name on it anywhere. She could take it.” He points at Jasmine. “And use it for entry and they wouldn’t question her. I would have been out fifty grand and that’s that. It doesn’t actually keep track of their members.”

“But they would be allowing her to enter without an NDA. So, there’s a flaw,” I observe.

“Essentially. But you have to be invited. Now, they don’t scan the cards to make sure that you are, in fact, the cardholder. You find a member card, and you’re in. But not many know about the bottom floor of Kink. The top floor of the club has a different name. So the odds of a stranger picking one up on the streets and knowing its significance is unlikely.” Tristan takes a drink.

“Let me see your card.” Jasmine holds her hand out to Avery.

He shakes his head. “I’m no longer a member. I prefer not to parade my sexual desires around in front of others.”

“In front of others,” Haven repeats. “Like they watch each other down there?” Her amber eyes are wide.

My eyes go to Emilee, and she blushes. My dirty girl would like that.

“Yes. As I said, all the rooms are glass. You can watch all of it. Or you can choose the one room they offer for privates. They accommodate all tastes,” Tristan adds.

“And what are your tastes?” Jasmine asks him with a raised brow.

“We’re getting off track,” Luca says, running a hand down his face before Tristan can answer her. “But you can confirm he’s been there?”

Tristan goes to speak, but Emilee interrupts him. “This is George we’re talking about. How in the hell did he find fifty thousand dollars to join a sex club?” she asks skeptically. “And how does that work anyway?” She looks back and forth between Avery and Tristan. “This is September. The year is almost over.”

We’re assuming our contact is George. When we looked up the number, it was not available. So, it has to be a burner phone of some sort. But he is the only guy we can think of who would send someone to the York’s house who would know about a safe in the office. No one else makes sense. But she has a point. Where would George find that kind of money for a sex club? But I’m also not an idiot. He’s had money this entire time. He refused to pay us because he didn’t want to. Not because his funds were unavailable.

“Doesn’t matter.” Tristan shakes his head once at her question. “You pay full price no matter when you want to join. So, say you just have to join in December. Come January, you’re paying again.”

“Seriously, this is my dream job.” Jasmine nods to herself. “Sex. Money. Exclusive clubs.”

“Here, I have a picture for you.” Tristan reaches into his pocket and removes his cell. He scrolls through it for a few seconds and then hands it to me.

I stare down at it. My blood running cold.

“Titan?” Bones calls out.

I blink, bringing the picture closer to my face. “Uh …” I clear my throat. “When was this taken?”

“Two nights ago.”

I start shaking my head. “That’s impossible.”

“I was there. I took it,” Tristan announces. “You gave us the number. As you said, it was not in any database. But we were able to ping it to Kink. Then we had a woman reach out to that number. She made contact, and I took the picture. That’s what took us so long. He wasn’t responding at first. It took him a couple of days to take the bait.”NôvelDrama.Org owns this text.

Fuck! I hand him back the phone. Standing, I start to head to the door of our suite. “Bones!” I snap before walking out.

“What the hell is going on?” he demands, entering the hallway and shutting the door behind him.

I begin to pace.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“We were wrong,” I say.

“About?”

“We thought this was George. It had to have been George who sent the guy to collect the money from the York’s residence.”

“Yeah. So why do you seem so confused now?”

“He was the only plausible answer,” I ramble.

“I agree,” he goes on.

“But …” Fuck! This is worse than I thought.

“But what?” he demands.

I continue to pace. My mind trying to piece together what I know and what I saw.

“Titan, but what?” He grips my shoulders and yanks me to a stop.

My wide eyes search his. “We were wrong.”