The man who gave me a grape-flavored lollipop every day of my child looks surprised and then embarrassed. He’s worked at almost every hotel my family owns. When Harlon and his partners established this place, Harlon refused to hire anyone else. He only wanted people he trusted watching the gates to his kingdom.
“Ma’am, I apologize.” he starts and I pat his hand when he takes mine between his.
“Don’t, it’s the wig, isn’t it,” I offer playfully and walk into the cool downstairs lobby with yards of red carpet, white marble, and crystal chandeliers spread out before me.
Club members come and go at all hours, but the majority don’t show up until sundown. It’s part of the whole underworld mystique, I guess. Crime-by-night seems to be their thing. Since it’s barely three in the afternoon I’m not surprised to find the lobby’s white leather settees empty. A discrete bar in the back glitters with tens of top-shelf liquor and I make my way there only to find the bar unattended.
Huh. Damn. I was hoping for an espresso martini before confronting my brother. Actually…I look around. Why isn’t he descending on me with half the security force?
I step into the elevator and hit the big number three and stand back as the metal box swooshes up.
Club Genesis is five levels of crime. There’s the basement. You never want to hear Harlon say, “Taken ‘em to the basement’. He does a better impersonation of a dark underlord than I do, but when he says those five words I’ve seen men take their own lives rather than see the inside of Harlon’s basement. Nothing funny about that. As I said, Harlon and his partners have worked hard on building up their reputation and they are good at what they do.
The first floor you just saw. It’s nothing more than a gathering place to see and be seen. The kitchen is down there too, but I rarely go there.
Now the third floor…this is the death-dealing floor. Sapphire and the men call it the dark floor. Actually, I think everyone but me does.
It’s where the members of Club Genesis come to take out a hit, square away differences and work out the finer details of contracts between powerful families. It’s a weapons-free zone that has not seen a drop of blood spilled. That leans back on how good Harlon and his men are at their jobs. It’s where you will find the runners fulfilling contracts and Sapphire dealing with their asshole attitudes.
A big no thanks. Killers with attitudes are not my thing. The top two remaining floors are for guests needing sanctuary. Sometimes I grab a room if I’m bored with the suite in Harlon’s mansion outside the city. He says it’s mine too, but again. I accept more than the pension I’m allotted as the mafia princess and I might as well sign up for taking the throne.
Another big no thanks.
The elevator slows to a stop on the third floor and I cross the empty reception area and head straight for the private elevator to the right of the large desk.
Leather creaking has my hair standing on end but I keep moving. To my left and near the receptionist is the lounge—a collection of sofas and low knee-level tables where Genesis’ runners come looking for a contract to fulfill. Or collect payment on one. I don’t stop to ask who’s doing what. Runners give me the creeps sitting there flipping knives or polishing guns waiting for their next kill.
I can feel their eyes on me as I step off one elevator and head to another. I punch the button for the top level and count to five as the doors slowly lock. I get that my brother needs to control access above this level, but I hate that getting to Harlon’s office requires a stop on this floor unless. Well, unless I want to take the hidden passages tucked away behind the bulletproof walls. Ugh, but the spider webs make dealing with these creeps seem the lesser of two evils.
I don’t breathe again until I walk off the elevator and see my distraught security detail looking like death rolled over them.
“Boys, good to see you again.” I smile but that doesn’t go over too well. All I get are grunts and mumbles as I pass them and head into my brother’s office. The door is halfway open which is as good as an invitation. I swing the large slab of dark wide and plop down in the nearest chair and place my Birkin in the chair next to me.
“My feet are killing me.”
Polaris, my brother’s relatively new executive assistant, is practically sitting in his lap with how close she stands. What? Didn’t think underlords have secretaries, did you? They probably don’t, but this one has a club to run and he sucks at spreadsheets.
“Belle,” my brother says dryly. “Where the fuck have you been?” His eyes immediately go to the wig and the barely-there dress. The office is a large open space in browns, leathers, and a few gold ornaments to add a flare of color and wealth.
The familiar scent of whiskey lingers in the air telling me I’ve driven my brother to drink before his usual time.
Not a good sign.
Polaris gathers her papers and…oh. Did I just see her brush her fingers over Harlon’s? I file that away and pretend to be looking at my nails and only raise my eyes when she heads my way. The faint click of her heels on the black marble is delicate yet deafening in the otherwise silent office.
Polaris is a broken soul I instantly bonded with the second she came to live at Club Genesis. She was kidnapped, tortured, and then nearly sold off into the underground sex slave trade. Only her sister, a mean-ass Russian biker gang, and the men of Genesis saved her from a far worse fate than working for my brother.
But Harlon is a whole other problem. I know he loves me, but he’s letting his past and what happened to Polaris tighten his grip around me. You see, my wanting to share something with three men isn’t new. My brother used to share a wife with his business partners and best friends.
And then she was murdered. But time doesn’t seem to heal all wounds. It’s been two years since their shared wife was kidnapped and killed. Long enough for my brother and his friends to want to find happiness again. Or so I thought. Sapphire and I hold a glimmer of hope that Polaris can fill the void I see in Harlon, Santi, and Cassius every single day. But sometimes I think all three are hellbent on being miserable and making everyone around them feel the same damn way.
Polaris goes to pass me with her loot of paperwork but I stop her with a gentle touch. She does this thing with her shoulders when something bothers her, sort of tucks into herself. Those fuckers wanting to traffic her must have really hurt her.
“You ok, babe?” I pitch my voice low and make sure Harlon can’t hear me.
“Of course. I was just wrapping up for the day anyway. You’ve really pissed your brother off. I should be asking if you are okay.” Aware of it or not, the other woman’s shoulders relax.
“It’s not like he’ll send me to the basement,” I tease. “Meet up later?”