"To Red Poppy,slonko."
Chapter 18
Damien
Red Poppy is my baby. It was the first business I built with my own two hands when I settled in Chicago. This is where I seized power in the organization. Where I signed my first contract with Roman. Where I first met Luna. And it was here that I cemented my reputation in certain circles.
Because Red Poppy isn’t just an exclusive club. No, it’s where influential people, people who crave discretion, find the privacy and resources to fulfill their every fantasy.
You want illegal poker games? Done.
You want to persuade your business partners to sign on the dotted line while they have beautiful women in their laps? Handled.
But nothing happens without my permission.
Roxanne’s head swivels as she tries to absorb the atmosphere of the place, and even though I'm afraid of the disgust I might see in her eyes, I turn to watch her.
Her gaze is fixed on the central bar, draped in black velvet, then travels up to the massive chandelier hanging over rows of expensive bottles of whiskey and cognac. Her eyes then drift to the corner sofas, shielded by ornate screens to offer privacy. Opposite them are round, solid wood tables surrounded by black leather armchairs.
When she has finally surveyed the whole place, her eyes land on the far end of the club, on the stage with a stripper pole in the middle.
I don't miss the way her pupils dilate, and I have to clench my fists at my sides to keep from reaching for her.
I know the kiss in the forest was fueled by adrenaline. I want the next one when she’s perfectly lucid and uninfluenced by anything else. I want her to be fully aware thatIam the man she’s kissing, with no excuses afterward.
"It looks…expensive," she finally says, and a grin spreads across my face.
I know she likes it from the way she studies every detail, seemingly at a loss for words.
"I have to handle a problem," I tell her, leaning in to kiss her cheek. "But you can make yourself comfortable at the bar and start planning what you need for the wedding."
The simple fact that she doesn't flinch or pull away as I get close floods my veins with the desire to pull her into my arms. Because her body recognizes me, even if her mind doesn’t.
I watch her nod slightly and head to the bar, where Tommy, the bartender, glances up at me. He knows not to even breathe in her direction, so I turn with Vasili and head toward my office.
"Where is he?" I ask once we’re finally alone.
"Tied up in the basement," he answers.
Like my house, Red Poppy was built with a place for…discussions. Discussions that can get out of hand. It’s not the first time I’ve had to deal with a client who didn’t understand the difference between asking for permission and just taking what he wanted.
I open my laptop, and within seconds, I have the security footage of him and Gigi, one of the girls who works for me, in one of the private rooms. We don't have many such rooms, and the ones we do have are always booked in advance.
My body tenses as I watch the senator’s hand move to Gigi’s throat. I'm all for everyone having their own kinks, but you don’t have to be a genius to see Gigi digging her nails into his hand, trying to push him off. I can even hear her hoarse voice, begging him to stop.
But the animal doesn’t. He keeps applying pressure to her airway even as she's on the verge of unconsciousness. When her body goes limp, the bastard finishes, only then releasing his grip.
"Keep an eye on Roxanne while I handle this."
"I want to be there," Vasili says, his voice thick with palpable fury.
I turn to him. His jaw is clenched, and his fists look ready to explode with tension. Well, well. Looks like someone’s in love. So why the hell didn't he tell me anything?
I could insist he stay and watch Roxanne, but I know no one will dare approach her after seeing us walk in together. Besides, the club is nearly empty at this hour.
"Let's go," is all I say.
The basement is a few feet from my office door, accessible by a PIN that only Vasili and I know. As we enter, the stench of sweat makes me cough.
