“You are doing what?” Sterling asked, his ice blue eyes narrowed with displeasure.
“I said that—”
Sterling slammed his fist on the table, barely masked fury reeking from his pores. “I know what you’ve said, but why now!”
Sitting back in his seat, Dorian finished his words slowly. “I am selling my shares of The Crown.”
“Myclub,” Sterling said stiffly.
“Yes.”
Yourfailingclub. I do not want to go down with your sinking ship. Not to mention, I’ve just uncovered the missing connection between you and my dastardly uncle. You should be glad I haven’t ripped your head from your shoulders already, old boy.
Over the years, bad blood had started to simmer between Dorian and Sterling. Three years ago, Dorian had outbid Sterling on gaining the last shares for a profitable shipping line that sailed from the East, and Sterling had never let him forget it.
If Dorian were to be honest, the rift had started long before the shares business; it had begun when he’d been twenty years old, after years of working as Sterling’s running boy and spy; as he got older, he’d become an extortionist with a dash of bribery thrown in.
It was at that age he’d broken off from being Sterling’s underling and founded his first bar. It had gone on well; Sterling had no issue with him running a simple ‘blue-ruin’ joint. It was when the club,The Labyrinth, had sprung to life—and outdone Sterling’s club—that the rivalry went into full force.
Lips tight, Sterling pressed, “Now, right after the robbery.”
“I did advise you to change your routes,” Dorian replied. “I had nothing to do with that.”
“Forgive me if the timing seems too… coincidental,” Sterling muttered through gritted teeth. “Half my stock of liquor—”
Watered-down liquor that you serve after the men are drunk.
“—was stolen five days ago, and now you come here seeking my blessing to cut ties. With me,” Sterling’s tone was flat. “The man who made you.”
“You never fail to throw that in my face,” Dorian said calmly, while inside, he seethed. “How are you the same man who said he respected a self-made man, but always endeavors to keep such a man under his thumb?
“Anyhow, this has nothing to do with you being my mentor, this is purely business. Your club is failing, no matter how many discounts you offer and put on fighter nights, your members are leaving by the dozens. I am not in the mood to continue hemorrhaging money, so yes, I am pulling away. It is simply prudent business.”
Besides, now that I know what you truly are and how you managed to destroy my family, I will finally have my justice.
“I am not pulling away entirely, just the club,” Dorian assuaged. “For all our other ventures, I am still a participant.”
Especially since I need to get into the secret club the three of you have built away from me. One of you, or all three of you, know where my thieving uncle is, and I will get it out of you one way or another.
“Are you two starting the fun without us?” came a drawling, pompous voice.
Dorian craned his head to the doorway as the final two members of the club joined the group. Nathan Wellington, Marquess of Salem, and Drake Holt, the Viscount of Portsmouth, strode into the room. Both men, looking as they had just rolled out ofseparate courtesans’ beds, since Dorian knew Nathan favored redheads and Drake only patronized plump dames.
“Thank you all for coming,” Dorian said. “I do not want to beat around the bush. I am selling my shares to the Crown, and either of you is welcome to bid before I take this to the public.”
The two men took their seats, and a quick inspection around the table did not reveal any surprised twitches or confusions; then again, he didn’t expect any. These men dealt with quick changes daily. Even without looking at Sterling, Dorian could feel the man’s bristling impatience.
Drake and Nathan shared a look before Drake let out a long grunt, reached into his inner pocket, and plucked out a fifty-pound note, then handed it to Nathan. “You were right.”
Smirking, Nathan pocketed the money, “Two days before I thought he’d announce it too.”
“Wait—” Dorian glanced between the two. “You two took bets on my removing myself from the club?”
“I suspected,” Nathan shrugged. “We know you are one to weather the storm, Beaumont, but when the anchor is slipping and the sails are ripped, you cut ties.”
Lifting the glass of brandy in a mock salute, Dorian laughed, “Why, thank you for your vote of confidence.”
Sterling’s eyes latched on the other two. “What about you two? Are you ready to jump ship as well and abandon your strongman?”
