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He seemed so clean cut…
Believe me now?
Kind of hard not to.
Enjoy your soak, darling.
See you at seven.
CHAPTER EIGHT
TRISTAN
Construction has been underway for months, and the club is finally starting to resemble the vision I have for it. The vibe of this venue is going to be different from the others I have opened overseas. When patrons describe their experience here, I want to hear words like luxurious, opulent, and exclusive.
Exclusivity is going to be a process. The guest list for opening night is still underway. Vetting half of the kink scene in Manhattan has been a grueling chore and is one that I am not taking lightly. Of the hundreds of applications and requests I’ve received, only seventy of them will be receiving an invitation. At least for now.
However, the look and feel I am striving for is coming together much faster. The crew is finishing up their cleanup of the lounge today. The moderately sized space is painted a soft cream, showcasing the ornate gold fixtures and décor hung on them. The marble floors are the same muted shade of white, keeping the space clean and welcoming.
Walking behind the bar lining the rear wall, I grab a bottle of Tullamore Dew and pour myself two fingers, neat.
It’s coming together.
Now that construction has finished, the interior designer will finally be placing furniture this afternoon. Sleek, modern, black leather couches and coordinating chairs will be grouped to create casual conversation areas. This section of the club will be kink-free and require a dress code like any upscale restaurant—cocktail dresses, dress shirts, trousers—and it will be open to unvetted guests of current members.
Everything about the lounge is a stark contrast to the last of construction happening behind the double doors, which leads into the club. Stepping through the open doorway, the long hallway separating the lounge and the club is decorated solely in black and gold. The theme that will carry through the remainder of the club.
“Tris,” Declan calls from the far side of the room. Sipping my drink as I walk, I cross the room toward him. He extends his phone as he remarks, “Yesterday worked.”
I take the phone from him and note the open email from the city’s licensing board.
Your licenses and permits have been approved and will be delivered via courier tomorrow.
Not bad, Marty.
“Make sure Liam and Finn know. I don’t want either of them getting overzealous and making a trip to visit the housewife again.”
“I’ve got to call it a night. I promised Fiona I’d be home for dinner tonight.” Declan informs me as he takes his phone back and slips it into the breast pocket of his suit jacket. “And I’m pretty sure you have somewhere to be as well.”
“The lot of you are a bunch of fucking gossips.” I shake my head, knowing either Liam or Finn informed him of my date tonight. “If you get time tonight, we really need to get a selection of ropes and restraints ordered.”
“I’ll take care of it.” He nods.
I haven’t fully entrusted any of my brothers with any of the details regarding the club, but I’d be foolish not to utilize Declan’s expertise in this area.
“I’m sure if you need someone to try things out on that, Quinn would be more than willing,” I smirk, my statement half in jest. He has been on a handful of dates in the past few months, but we all know he isn’t ready for anything even remotely serious. And the way she’s been pining over him for years, it would definitely be serious for her.
“And I’m fine. Sarah’s anniversary was just fucking hard. I’m not falling apart over her every night.” he states. “You don’t have to give me stupid tasks to keep me occupied.”
“I’m asking because you know more about ropes, suspension, and bondage than anyone else I know. Leaving this up to anyone else would be fucking stupid.” I squeeze his shoulder before demanding. “Go home. And be sure to give my little princess a kiss from her favorite uncle.”
“You are not her favorite uncle,” Finn chimes in from behind me. “And what the fuck are you still doing here?”
“She’s only in SoHo.” I glance at my watch. “I have at least thirty minutes.”
“Thirty minutes to head upstairs, shower, and put on a clean fucking suit,” Finn urges. “You smell like fucking sawdust and paint from being holed up here all day. And not in a woodsy or blue-collar kind of way she’ll find attractive.”
Shit.
