I arched a brow at him, took in the fatigue in his expression, and heaved a sigh.
This learning curve that came without ass-whoopings from our da was taking its toll on everyone.
For so long, we’d been told how high we should jump, and we’d get right to it. Now, we were making our own rules. Da made it look so easy too.
"It’s been years since I came here last," Declan muttered from behind me.
I pulled a face. "Guess we know why Da discouraged us from using this place after we turned thirteen."
"So they didn’t get hit up with statutory rape charges?" Finn grumbled, his distaste clear.
"You don’t think he came here to use the ‘services?’" Eoghan mused.
"He’d better fucking not have." Brennan cracked his knuckles. "Ma’s made plenty of mistakes along the way, but if he was cheating on her as well—"
"You’ll what? Kill him?" Con’s laughter was a harsh bark. "Shut the fuck up, Brennan. Focus on what matters here."
Before Brennan could snap, I twisted around and hissed, "Control yourselves. You’re here for a fucking reason, and it’s not to start bickering like we’re goddamn kids."
"Maybe it’s only natural," Finn murmured. "Seeing as wewerekids the last time we came here."
I didn’t bother grimacing, just glowered at my younger brothers to get them in line.
"You’re more of a miserable bastard than usual," Conor grouched.
Ignoring him, I reached for my phone. My fingers drifted over Da’s, the broken glass dragging against the tips, but I shoved that aside and once I’d retrieved mine, opened the app that controlled Savvie’s vibrator.
Switching it on low, I smiled to myself as I imagined her howl of outrage.
Turning my attention back to work, I saw the French maid was at the other end of the hall.
The place was a fancy bordello withAlice in Wonderlandvibes that had creeped me out when I was a teenager and still creeped me the fuck out now.
The long hallway was all gilt and red and velvet, normal in comparison to the rest of the joint. Each doorway that led off it was decorated to the hilt, and I knew that the subsequent rooms were themed to Lewis Carroll’s story which was just freaky as hell to me.
As Victorian as this part of the club was, the maid fit in with that get up, and I didn’t wait for the others to follow me, just strode down the hall toward her.
She curtsied as she opened the door, another move I was totally going to steal for Savvie, and I headed in without a backward glance at her or my brothers.
As the door closed behind me, I took in the ultra-modern office with no small amount of surprise.
It was pure white, minimalist chic. Just like the woman who moved to stand from behind her glass desk.
Her suit was a stark black, the cut edgy, and her tight bun reminded me of the meanest elementary school teacher I’d had—Mrs. Parkinson. That bitch had mocked my every attempt at reading from the board.
Still, this woman was notthatone. I’d seen Grainne in a broken pile on the floor when she was younger than I was now, but somehow, though she had to be in her fifties at least, she was pristine. Not just in comparison to the last time I’d seen her, but because she exuded the opposite of what she was.
Conor and I had been told never to talk about the hooker we’d found in the alleyway, but he’d come to me, asking questions about side pieces and why people paid to go to bed with other people, and I’d had to explain it all to him.
Nobody told you when you were the eldest that you’d end up being the one who gave your brother the birds and the fucking bees talk.
He’d also asked me why Jonesy had mocked him for calling her a ‘lady.’
But that was what resonated here, now.
Shewasa lady.
I stepped forward, heading deeper into the room with my arm outstretched.