It was a busy evening at the club, with guests walking in nearly every few minutes.The two friends had decided to meet there.
“That’s politics,” Oliver replied dryly. “A great performance with very little substance.”
Alexander leaned back in his chair, scanning the room out of habit. A handful of regulars lingered by the far table, playing cards. Another group sat by the bar. Everything was as it should be.
Well, almost.
“I assume you’ve heard about Lord Burk?” Oliver asked after a pause.
Alexander’s jaw tensed at the mention. “Yes,” he said flatly.
The Viscount had become a recurring problem in the past year. He owed Alexander a considerable sum and had made no effort to repay it. Worse still, he’d begun frequenting the club like it was his own, mouthing off to staff, and pretending his debts didn’t exist. A shameless man.
Alexander had tolerated his presence for longer than he should have. But tolerance had its limits.
“He tried to get in again tonight,” Oliver added, lifting his glass. “Said he was here to speak with you directly.”
“He knows better than that,” Alexander scoffed.
“I assume he was turned away?” Oliver probed further.
“Lewis handled it,” Alexander said, not elaborating further . When Lewis handled something, it stayed handled.
“That’ll leave a bruise,” Oliver gave a low whistle.
“He wasn’t touched,” Alexander said, though there was little sympathy in his tone. “Just reminded where the door was.”
“You’re being too patient with him, you know.”
“I’m not patient,” Alexander said. “I’m being as careful as I ought to be.”
“Of course, if you say so,” Oliver smirked. “Why do you keep him out instead of calling for the constables?”
“Because the Viscount wants a public fight. That’s how men like him survive. He owes more than just money,” Alexander looked down at the rim of his glass. “You drag a man like that to court, and suddenly everyone’s dirty laundry is out in the open, including people I don’t care to protect.”
“So you freeze him out,” Oliver nodded slowly.
“I make him irrelevant,” Alexander corrected. “That hurts him more.”
“Ah,” Oliver said, mulling over the words. “And what happens when that is no longer enough?”
“Then I stop playing games.”
Oliver didn’t press further.
Across the room, Lewis stepped through the side entrance briefly and gave a short nod in Alexander’s direction. Confirmation received. Alexander returned the nod, then leaned back in his chair again.
“Now,” he said, letting the tension roll off his shoulders, “I need to hit something.”
“ Is that an invitation or a warning?” Oliver arched a brow.
Alexander downed the last of his drink and set the glass aside. “Come on. You’ve been running your mouth all evening. Time you put it to use in the ring.”
“You always get too worked up whenever politics comes up,” Oliver chuckled, standing.
“I get worked up when entitled men think they can talk circles around me and walk away owing nothing.” Alexander rolled his sleeves as he walked toward the back hallway. “The Viscount is not the first man to mistake my silence for softness.”
They passed the familiar halls of the club, until they reached the heavy door at the far end. Alexander pushed it open, revealing the training room. In the center stood the boxing ring. It was hisfather’s once. Now it was his. The difference was felt in how it was used, no longer for show or ego, but for control.
