Page 33 of The Devil’s Lair

Xan replies with a shrug emoji. Helpful.

I drop my phone in my pocket and head down to Dad’s study. I tap on the door and enter. Dad’s behind his desk, frowning at his laptop screen, and Xan is standing by the fireplace, arms looped behind his back. I glare at him. He smirks. So, he does know what this is about. Twat.

“We have a problem, Tobias,” Dad kicks off, waving for me to sit opposite his desk.

A chill settles over my shoulders. “What problem?”

“Your club.”

“What about it?”

“The press are not leaving this alone. In fact, it’s getting worse. They’re now calling you ‘The King of Kink’.”

Xan snickers. Dad tosses him an annoyed glare, then returns his attention to me.

“I have always been happy to support this venture as a hobby, but the negative media coverage is having an adverse impact on some extremely delicate negotiations. It’s got to go.”

“What negotiations?”

“That’s not your concern.”

I glance at Xan, his face a blank mask, which means he knows what’s going on and isn’t willing to share. “I’m not selling The Lair.”

Dad’s graying eyebrows arch. “No?”

On the outside, I’m calm. On the inside, panic’s got me in a chokehold. That club is more than a hobby, as Dad put it. The Lair is the only place I can be myself. The only place where I don’t feel broken. I won’t let it go.

“The press will get bored soon and move on. We just have to ride it out.”

“Riding it out may destroy my negotiations. I’m not prepared to allow that to happen.”

I shrug. “Then, buy the papers and make them print something else.”

Dad chuckles. “Now you’re being flippant. A free press is the key to a democratic society, and it’s something I wholeheartedly believe in.”

“I am not selling my club,” I repeat. “It’s mine. I built it from scratch, and I’m proud of it. We’re always in the news over something or other. What’s so different about this?”

“I don’t mind being in the news, but nine times out of ten, it’s for something positive. A philanthropic endeavor, a charity ball to raise money for the homeless, a takeover of a failing company saving thousands of jobs. I can’t spin this in a good way, and the people I’m trying to do business with are getting twitchy. That’s why it has to go.”

“Does it, though?”

My gaze shoots to Xan. Is big brother going to come to my rescue?

“Expand,” Dad says, motioning with his hand for Xan to get on with it.

“We need to give the press something else to focus on. Something… meatier.”

“Meatier than a shooting at a kink club the press wasn’t previously aware was owned by my own son? I’m listening.”

“A wedding.” The weight of his stare lands on my face.

I almost choke on my saliva.

“A… A wedding?” A laugh bursts out of me. “You can’t be serious. Who am I marrying? Unless you’re talking about Saskia getting married. That’s right, isn’t it? A great, big, flashy De Vil wedding for the baby of the family will work. Give the press a good news story to feast on.”

I’m rambling because he doesn’t mean Saskia. He means me. And I can’t marry. Ever. The thought of sharing a bed with another human being… it makes me want to puke. Touching skin to skin. No.

Xan cocks his head to one side.