Page 55 of Taint My Soul

“Thank you. I’d really appreciate that.”

“Give me a minute.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

SAINT

The club sits at the edge of the island. A pair of security men in tailored black suits flanks the entrance doors. Inside, the world shifts. Everything is low-lit, night-soaked, and modern. Shadows curve around every surface. The underground nightclub, TK, thrums with hedonistic chaos, writhing bodies, and bass music that rocks through the charged space. The bodyguards take me through the disarray to the lounge on the third floor of the gigantic building. I fall behind them, and we stroll down the hall to an open lounge. “Wait for the boss here.”

“Alright.”

I sit on the leather couch, resting my arm on the top. My phone buzzes, and the screen lights up in my breast pocket. I pull it out and see the message from the PI I texted on my drive here. He’s on his way. Around me, erotic photos of men and women hang on the wall, reflecting in the low amber light. Beneath the floor, music from the club thrums and filters through the expanse in shallow beats. Outside, two of Prince’s men stand on guard, manning the entrance.

The door creaks, and Prince steps into the room. He’s tall. Ink-black, straight coils of hair frame his oval face. His deep brown eyes shine under the low amber light, the glow accentuating his brown skin. “Saint King. It is nice to see you.” He smiles as he sits opposite me.

“Hello, my friend.” I smile. “I thought we would have had the benefit of meeting at the office.”

“This place is so much better.” I hum under my breath.

A server steps into the room with a tray of red wine and glasses. She uncorks the wine and tilts the bottle forward, pouring the dark red liquid into the glasses one after another. “Let’s drink.” Prince reaches out to the glass and holds it in his hand. I follow suit. “Thank you.” He whispers to the server before she leaves the room.

“So?” He drinks again. “We are here to discuss business. I think it’s best to dive right into it.” He smiles.

Prince owns this place. An exclusive club for the rich, almost like Red Horn. It’s one of the only things his father left behind after their syndicate fell. “I never thought you’d be someone who mixes business with pleasure.” I look around the room that surrounds us.

“I don’t mix business with pleasure. I keep both at arm’s length, but what can I say, Red Horn Club can get very addictive,” his eyes narrow, lingering on me a bit too long. I take a sip from my glass, shifting uncomfortably on the leather couch. “I’ll get straight to it.” His demeanor shifts to a controlled, serious one. He slides a presentation across the table. “The proposed contract secures exclusive development rights for the waterfront properties over the next five years.” He explains his pitch. He’d secured some of the islands surrounding Genesis City and had started building his luxury hotel structures about a year ago. The project was nearing completion. But he needs funding. Funding from my company.

“What do you say, business partner?” He extends his hand. I take it and shake it firmly with a smile. Then I lift the presentation and look through the proposal’s pages.

“Why didn’t you bring this a year ago?” I inquire, and his features harden. “Your project is months away from completion, Prince.”

“Breach of contract from my business partner.”

“And how do you expect me to trust you when you couldn’t handle your previous contract?”

“Who says I breached the contract?” He leans back and stares at me. “Look, you have my word, Saint King.” He declares, desperation weighing on his voice.

“I’ll think about it. If your proposal checks out, we’ll sign a contract.”

“Perfect.” He stands up and heads toward the open curtains, staring through the window. “Now let’s talk about underworld business.” He looks over his shoulder with a smirk. “I think I’m a target, and I need someone to protect me. Someone highly skilled.”

“What? Hire a bodyguard. Have someone pledge to your House.”

“Virgil.” He speaks slowly, but there is an edge to his voice.

“Virgil, as in my brother, Virgil King,” a cold shadow crosses my expression, too fast to name. “What makes you think he’s willing to work for you?”

“Because we have a history.” He faces me, and I lift my gaze, watching him, wondering if I could decipher his thoughts.

“My brother’s unhinged.”

“Excuses. Excuses.” He whines. “That’s why he’s perfect.”

“My brother is unavailable. He’s leading…” I stop myself before I can give away too much information. He can’t know that an enemy has invaded my city with plans I’m yet to uncover.

“An ongoing investigation to find out who stole your cargo before it could leave the harbor. Or the warehouses set on fire. I’m willing to get your shipment safely to your associates without disruption if you’re willing to talk to your brother.” He tilts his head, studying me like a man studies the steel he uses to skin animals. “We both benefit from this. You get your cargo across the country while I get the protection I need from your brother.”

I reach for my holster immediately and pull out my gun. I cock it, and he raises his hands in surrender. “How do you know about my stolen cargo?” My stare pins him in place.