“He’s over at table thirty-one,” she tells me, hooking a thumb over her shoulder.
“All right. Can you go ask Carter for a bottle of our best vodka and bring it back to room eight?”
She swallows hard, and I know that she doesn’t want to do that. She doesn’t want to go back there, even though the last time she was in this situation, I gave her a hefty tip. I have no fucking idea what Mr. Nyx wants, but I can guarantee it needs to be kept quiet.
“Sure, sure,” Meghan says and starts to head to the bar. As she passes me, I can’t help but reach my hand out so that our fingers brush. I crave the tingle that shoots up my arm from even the smallest amount of contact with her, and as the electricity overcomes me, I feel like a drug addict who has just taken a hit—until it fades away, leaving me cold, lonely, and aching for more.
Meg is gone now, though, and I make my way over to find the asshole I wish had never set foot in my club. I force my most genuine fake smile to my mouth and walk over to him. He has a couple of his lackeys with him, but I don’t pay them any mind as I offer him my hand.
He shakes it. “Well, well, if it isn’t The Fixer himself,” he says, and I want to tell him not to call me that in the middle of the club floor, but I don’t even acknowledge what he’s said. “How goes the hunt, Hunter?”
I snicker. “I’m sure that’s not what you’re here to discuss, Mr. Nyx. Why don’t we move this conversation back to one of our preferred rooms?”
“Of course,” he says, pulling himself out from behind the table. I lead the way, and he follows, his two goons behind him.
Once we’re in the appointed room, we have a seat, and I hope Meg hurries up with the booze. Whatever the fuck he wants to talk to me about, it’ll be easier with some drinks. “Now, Mr. Nyx,” I begin, “what’s this about?”
“Well, you certainly don’t beat around the bush, do you?” he asks with a nasty chuckle. “It’s pretty simple, honestly, Hunter. You have something—and I want it.”
I scrutinize his expression for a moment, trying to figure out what he’s talking about. “I already gave you my best property for practically nothing,” I remind him. “So what could you want now?”
Meg comes in just then with a nice bottle of vodka and some glasses. She goes about serving us, but her presence doesn’t deter Mr. Nyx from talking. “I want those new apartments you just bought, Hunter.” He isn’t beating around the bush. “And you’re going to sell them to me.”
I can’t help the chuckle that escapes my lips. “The ones over by Silver Towers?” I hear Meg gasp, but all I need to do is give her a look to have her backing away from the table. She goes and stands by the wall, ready to pour again if needed. “No fucking way.”
“What?” Mr. Nyx explains. “Why not? They’re nothing special. I’ll pay you more than what you paid for them.”
“If they’re nothing special, why the fuck do you want them?” I ask, taking a shot of the vodka and refilling the glass myself.
He chuckles under his breath and drinks half of what’s in his glass. “I’m not going to tell you what my plans are. But trust me, they’re big.” He finishes off his drink.
“Before I even think about selling you those particular apartments, I need to know why you want them.” He doesn’t need to know why I’d want to keep them. It’s clear Meg is listening. She wants to know because she lives there, but Mr. Nyx has no way of knowing that.
“Who the hell knows? Depends on what shape they’re in. I’ll probably raze it and put in something much nicer.” That maniacal chuckle is back.
When he mentions razing the building, Meg inhales deeply. “I can’t let you do that,” I tell him.
“Why the fuck not?” he asks. “Why do you give a shit what I do with them?”
“Because there are people who live there already,” I explain to him. “People I’ve made promises to.”
“Shit,” he mutters. “Who gives a damn?”
“The people who live there do!” Meg shouts, coming over. “People who have been living there for years. People with families… and fixed incomes… and cats. You can’t just screw around with those people’s lives!”
“Whoa!” Mr. Nyx says, holding up his hands. “Well, Mr. Stone, I didn’t realize you’d hired a new bodyguard.” He is chuckling under his breath again. “All right, all right. I won’t kick out the families and the old ladies if it gets you off my back, gorgeous.”
Meg opens her mouth to say something else, and I say, “Thank you, Meghan. You can return to your station now.”
She mutters a curse under her breath and moves back to the wall. “Well,” Mr. Nyx says, standing. His two goons get up as well. “I think that’s enough discussion for one night. But if you change your mind…”
I nod and offer him my hand. He takes one more look at Meg and chuckles again, and I hate the way his eyes roam over her, but then he leaves, and I follow him to the door, closing it behind him.
Then…I turn and face her.
She’s still standing where she should’ve been the whole time unless someone needed a refill. She has her tray in her hands, and she’s looking down at the floor. I can tell that she’s feeling bad about what happened, but that doesn’t excuse the fact that she just interjected herself between me and a very dangerous man.
“What the fuck was that?” I ask, trying to keep my tone calm.