I knocked on the front three times before it opened. The doorman was a heavyset man with a permanent scowl. “Are they all here?” I asked.
He nodded. “Yes, Mr. Lenkov. You’re the last one.”
“Good.” I gestured for Roza and Cassie to follow.
They wouldn’t like that I brought the girls, but this wasn’t entirely for their benefit.
I needed Roza. She was my eyes and my ears, and an integral part of my business. I never went to a meeting without either her or Erick by my side.
Since we said no bodyguards and no guns, Erick was stuck watching the exterior with a sniper rifle. Not that it would do much good if things went wrong.
And Cassie?
Well, I wanted t show her off. And she needed to learn.
The entryway was pure luxury. Gorgeous hardwood floors polished to a gleam and more art than the damn Guggenheim. The doorman led us past several partially open doors, beyond which men were entertained by very expensive and very skilled women, and though I knew there were strange and depraved things going on, not a single sound escaped. Whoever built this place made sure it was perfectly insulated.
Otherwise, all that moaning, screaming, and begging for mercy would ruin the whole vibe.
The doormen took us to the last door on the left and pushed it open. Inside looked like a wealthy sitting room. Couches and chairs were arranged around a low, modest coffee table and set before a gently crackling fire. At the far end, a bartender in all black was ready to pour drinks.
Three men sat dripping with women. Attractive women, skilled woman, women wearing very little clothes. I felt Roza tense up as we entered.
“Roman, there you fucking are.” Torin O’Rourke stood, hands raised in a greeting. He grinned, flashing his perfect white teeth and his boyish smile. Torin was the heir to the massive O’Rourke family treasury. Rumor said they made their money selling weapons in the 16th century, but whether that was true or not didn’t matter anymore. They were richer than the Catholic Church and much, much more dangerous.
The other two men were Bernhard Orchard and Kaspar Baskin. Old Bern didn’t bother standing—he was pushing eighty and probably wouldn’t be able to get back down. Kaspar gave me a tight nod and raised his whisky in salute as a dark-skinned beauty ground her ass down against his crotch. He barely paid her any attention as she did things with her hips most humans could only dream about. His dirty-blond hair was slicked back and he looked like a Nordic prince—muscular chest and shoulders with striking, severe features.
“You made us wait, Lenkov,” Old Bern said, barking with that smoker’s growl.
“And you brought girls.” Kaspar scowled and slapped his lap dancer’s ass. “Get off me, will you? I appreciate the effort though.”
The girl smiled at him and slinked off. Several other women were draped around them like expensive scarves.
Cassie and Roza stayed behind me and I could feel their discomfort.
“Why don’t we dismiss the entertainment, gentlemen.”
“We said no bodyguards.” Torin came over, grinning at Roza. “We all know this one’s deadly.”
“Save it, Torin,” Roza said. “Last time you tried to flirt with me, you walked away with a black eye. Remember that?”
“God, do I ever. Best orgasm of my life. Please, darling, do it again, will you?”
Roza smiled despite herself. I waved Torin off. “Leave her alone.”
Old Bern clapped his hands. “Girls, get the fuck out. Except for Lenkov’s little stable of pussy, even though we agreed not to bring company. Apparently he gets to do whatever the fuck he wants.”
“Easy, Bern,” Kaspar said, sipping his drink. “The pretty one’s his new wife. What’s her name, Roman?”
She stepped forward and slipped her hand through my arm. “Cassie,” she said, nodding at him.
“I’m Kaspar Feargus Ulbrecht von Baskin the Fourteenth, but everyone calls me Kaspar.”
“Because your full name’s pretentious as hell,” Torin said. “I’m Torin, and the old guy over there is Bernhard Orchard. He’s cranky on account of the arthritis.”
“I swear, you little twerp, come over here and I’ll rip out your fucking eyes.” Old Bern glared death at Torin. Despite the casual way Torin treated the old man, they hated each other—their families had been feuding for generations, with no signs of slowing down. “And it’s nice to meet you Cassie, dear.”
“Let’s sit.” I led Cassie and Roza over to the couches. We took one side and Torin sat at the far end, leaving a bit of space between him and Cassie. Kaspar watched, already bored, and Old Bern glared, which was his default expression. “Thank you all for joining me. I only wish the others could’ve come.”
“Except for Darren I assume,” Kaspar said.
“What is it with you two?” Torin asked. “I knew you didn’t get along, but it’s been vicious lately.”
“Sick of all the damn infighting,” Old Bern said. “Years ago, before you all took over your families, we never bothered with all this childish bickering. We made money and ran policy and the world was better off for it.”