“So why haven’t you gotten revenge yet?”
“Because it’s a global organization and impossible to track down. We’ve been looking for them for years. There are too many layers between the foot soldiers and the bosses. Revenge is a long-game. We have to bide our time and wait until we find the men responsible for their deaths.”
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I can’t imagine what that must have been like for you and Damian.”
He blew out a deep breath and leaned back against the leather seat. “What can I say? Life sucks. Nothing we do will bring our parents back. But killing the assholes responsible will definitely help me feel better.”
He slid out from the driver’s seat and slammed the car door, ending our conversation. Within seconds, Bastian was at my side, yanking me out of the car. He threaded his fingers between mine, the sudden connection sparking my skin with electricity. Instead of heading toward the Belles clubhouse, we descended a flight of stairs.
“Where are you taking me? I thought we were going to dinner.”
Bastian led me down a narrow stone hallway that tunneled deep below ground. He stopped in front of an iron door and knocked three times in a strange succession. It sounded like some kind of passcode, each tap different from the last.
A few seconds passed before I heard metal sliding across a hard surface. Then the top half of a man’s face came into focus through a small window.
“What the fuck is this place?”
“Don’t worry, Cherry.” Bastian winked. “You’ll like it here.”
The heavy door groaned as the tall man on the other side appeared in the entryway. He had broad shoulders and thick arms corded with muscle.
“Mr. Salvatore.” He dipped his head in reverence, then stepped to the side so we could pass him. “Welcome back to the Founders Club.”
My throat nearly closed up as Bastian guided me into the dark space. It reminded me of a casino and brothel rolled into one. Men played poker and craps at tables to our right. On our left, there were dozens of tables with men who were getting lap dances.
A group of women danced on a stage, grinding their naked bodies against the poles. Even the women carrying trays of drinks were topless. I was the only woman fully clothed.
When men looked at Bastian and me, I felt as if they were undressing me with their eyes. Members of the club acknowledged Bastian with the tip of their heads. Several security guards walked toward us with a gray-haired man between them. He wore a black suit and a dark blue tie, armed with a tense expression.
“Mr. Salvatore.” He stopped in front of us and extended his hand to Bastian. “Welcome back. Are your brothers joining us for the auction?”
What fucking auction?
My heart hammered, forcing me to place my free hand on my chest to calm my nerves. I knew it was too good to be true. That he was only being nice to get whatever he wanted from me.
“Luca and Marcello are on their way. Damian is sitting out tonight.” Bastian offered my hand to the man. “This is Alexandrea Wellington.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Wellington.” His gaze swept back to Bastian. “Follow me. Your usual table is ready.”
The club manager turned on his heels, and Bastian slid his arm behind my back. We walked down a long, dimly lit hallway with red carpets and black walls and then entered a set of double doors at the end of the corridor.
It surprised me to find a dining room with circular booths that had high walls that gave the patrons privacy. Women’s moans filled the air. Sure, some people were actually eating dinner. But mostly, it looked like one big orgy.
“Thank you, Michael.” Bastian shoved a few hundred-dollar bills into his hand. “We’ll take it from here.” After he walked away, Bastian pointed at the booth. “Sit.”
I ignored his demand, too busy staring around the room. Not in a creepy way. More out of curiosity. I’d never been to a place like this before.
Bastian dipped his head down and brushed his lips against my earlobe. “Sit before I bend you over this table in front of everyone and spank you for defying me.”
I snapped my head back to him. Teeth bared, I stood on my tippy toes and got in his face. “Are you going to sell me at the auction if I don’t?”
His palm came down hard on my ass. “Test me and find out.”
Despite all the moaning and debauchery surrounding us, The Founders Club actually served food. And here I was expecting a romantic dinner with Bastian.
Though, I should have known better. This was the equivalent of eating at a strip club. Except instead of bar food, we ate a five course meal.
After our server removed the last of our plates, Bastian slid his arm across the back of my neck, resting his hand on my bare shoulder. I hated how normal this felt for us.