Maze laughed as they rounded into the service alley behind the hotel. “Man, she’s good,” he said. “Just like you, she could sell condoms in a convent.”
“Thank you,” Harlow said, hoping that put a period at the end of the discussion… and Ryske’s mood.
They went up a set of external stairs next to a loading bay. Maze opened the door and checked inside before allowing her to enter first.
“You got any concerns about coming back here?” Maze asked, staying at her side while Ryske took the lead.
“Because this is the place my boyfriend came back from the dead? No. I’ve been back since then.”
“Well, yeah that, but… isn’t this where Hagan attacked you?”
Taking his arm again, she rested her head against it without missing a step. “Maze, honey, I put him on his ass without any assistance. Now I have you and Ryske with me. If anyone tries to hurt any of us… we’ll own them.” With the men in suits, she was the only one with bare arms. She turned hers to show her stars. “ ‘Til we’re dirt in the ground.”
Maze bowed to kiss her head, still keeping pace. “Good girl.”
They reached the door of the meeting room and shared a look, each nodding to indicate they were prepared. Ryske dipped to kiss her, opened the door and went inside as his lips ebbed from hers.
It wasn’t a typical ‘get in the game’ ritual, but it wasn’t one she’d mind starting.
Following Ryske, Harlow had Maze behind her. He took her shoulders, giving her an encouraging squeeze.
“Now it’s a party!” Ryske declared, opening his arms.
The door swung shut behind them, and they kept on going deeper into the room. Ryske stopped a few feet behind the couches that faced each other in the large drawing room. When she moved to his side, Maze did the same, putting her in the middle of their crew.
Everyone was on their feet. Parratt and Yarker were in front of the furthest couch with a female between them; the same female who’d been with them before. Ophelia was standing by the couch closest to them.
“You’re late,” Parratt declared.
“Your daughter likes anal sex,” Ryske said, sauntering around the couch. “Is this a game of state the obvious?”
“She’s his daughter,” Harlow murmured to Maze, watching the woman next to Parratt, wondering why a man would get his child involved in something like this.
Maze slid an arm around her shoulders. “That’s his mistress. Lydia.”
“My… my daughter? H… Hannah?” Parratt stuttered. Ryske dropped onto the middle of the couch closest to them. He laid his arms along the back, slouched and at ease like he owned the whole building. “You… My princess angel…”
“So that’s where that pet name came from! If I’d known I was playing you, I wouldn’t have been so generous with her,” Ryske said and nodded at the woman next to Parratt. If Harlow knew him—and she did—he’d accompanied that nod with a wink. “Hey, Lydie.” Harlow smiled at the way the woman blushed and dropped her attention like she was trying to hide a smile. Ryske noticed too. “Don’t be shy, babydoll, let it all out… I’m right here if you want a proper hello.”
That tone, the way he spoke to women, it made them feel so precious. Harlow tried to recall if she’d ever fallen for it. She probably had. Not that she’d like to admit how his practiced ways could make even her feel special.
“What’s Rowe doing here?” Yarker asked.
The stunned Parratt sank down onto the edge of the couch. Rigid and mouthing silence, he wasn’t doing a good job of getting to grips with this new information. Harlow had no idea why Ryske had shared it, now of all times, but it was her job to go with it.
“He’s my buddy,” Ryske said. “Figured we need a little more muscle on this… Are you gonna fight off the sex crazed if they OD? You know he’s connected up the yazoo, right?” Ryske snapped his fingers and pointed. “That’s right, you do, ‘cause his father owns forty percent of your company!”
Yarker was the one to drop onto the couch next. “You’re just going around the room shocking the shit out of people,” Maze said. “I’m here because I might want in… I have to get a feel for your setup first.”
“Never hurts to have a little Rowe credibility, does it?” Ryske asked, lifting his hands at the wrist then strengthening the one closest to Ophelia to point at her. “You raiding Harlow’s closet?”
Ophelia’s outfit was a replica of the one Harlow had been wearing the night Ryske had come back from the dead. Harlow hadn’t realized Ryske paid that much attention to what she wore, except when he was figuring out how to get her out of it.
“No!” Ophelia objected a little too hard. “I’ve had this for years.”
Ryske tipped his chin toward the back of the couch. “Trink, get where I can see you.”
Maze nudged her along, guiding her between the end of the couch and the fireplace. Because Ryske was in the center of the couch with his arms stretched along the back, there was equal space on each side of him. Ophelia put herself in the furthest space, making it clear that she wasn’t going to give up a place beside him.
7
Harlow thought about waiting until Maze sat down and then sitting on both of them, but the aim was to give Ryske dominance. To underline his point—if he had one—about his power with women, and maybe to irk Ophelia too, Harlow stepped over Ryske’s foot and sank down onto the floor between his legs.
“Now that we’re all sitting comfortably…” Ryske said.
Picking up the ends of her hair with splayed fingers, he spread it on his thigh. Coiling her arms around his lower leg, Harlow rested her head against the inside of his thigh while he continued to stroke her.
“We have a lot to talk about,” Ophelia said.
“Not so much,” Ryske said. “Parratt, Yarker, you got the product en route?”
“Uh… yes,” Yarker said.
Parratt was only just beginning to shake off his shock. “You… you slept with my daughter.”
“I fucked your daughter,” Ryske said. “She was actually the first of the set.” His fingers left her hair; Harlow twisted to watch him count off on his fingers. “Daughter, wife, mistress… I gotta ask, is your mom still living? ‘Cause I feel like I should complete the collection.” Outrage made Parratt’s mouth open; he puffed out his bluster. Harlow didn’t realize she was smiling until Ryske’s gaze dropped to her. “What you smiling at?” She shook her head and turned her lips into her mouth. “Oh no, let me have ‘em.”
Pressing a finger to the underside of her chin, Ryske guided her up onto her knees, higher and higher until her body was angled on his, pressing into him. Kissing him in front of their audience felt different than doing it in private. It wasn’t worse. It felt naughty and hot.
In spite of his bravado, Harlow knew she was his prize, his valuable beloved, more important to him than any other woman had ever been. His kiss infused her with the power he was so good at giving her.
Pushing her tongue further into his mouth, she wasn’t ready to lose their connection. Harlow reveled in their bond. Everyone probably wondered what kind of person she was that she could hear him talk of being with other women and still share herself with him.
But, she knew something they didn’t. Harlow had been inside him in the deepest, darkest moments of the blackest night. She’d pushed at him, and every time his grip grew stronger. Losing herself in him would be her bliss.
“You’ve forgotten how short her dress is,” Maze muttered.
Ryske pulled his mouth from hers. With his fingertips, he combed her hair from her cheekbones, his gaze as adoring and heated as she felt inside for him.
“This is a business meeting,” Yarker objected. “Must you entertain your whore?”
Harlow’s eyes flared. A fire of ire shot through her. Twisting around, she surged onto her feet. She didn’t get one step before Ryske and Maze both seized a wrist each, holding her back. Pinning her feral anger on Yarker, his dismissal boosted her adrenaline.
Her goddamn money was in the pot; she had as much right as anyone else to be present.
“We’d hoped she wouldn’t need this,” Ryske said.
The sensation of Ryske sliding something onto the finger of the hand Maze was in control of made her look down. He was putting her pointed full-finger ring on her forefinger.
“Now, do you want to apologize to the lady?” Maze said. “Or should we let her go?”
“You remember…” Ryske said. “The only thing that stopped her from ripping out Hagan’s throat was me… I’m less inclined to do that tonight.”
“I… I’m sorry,” Yarker said. “I am. I’m sorry…”
Ryske’s hand slid up her inner thigh. “You’re a goddess, Trink,” he murmured, caressing the sensitive flesh at his fingertips. “We’re at your command.”
Maze’s fingers loosened from her wrist to descend and twine with hers. Both men were telling her they were ready to fight at her side if she didn’t want to accept Yarker’s apology. Except they weren’t there for a fight. Technically, Ryske had disrespected Parratt more than Yarker had insulted her.
Loosening, she let her anger ebb and unlocked her knees to sink onto the floor between Ryske’s feet again.
“Good,” Ryske said. “You’re a lucky man, Yarker.”
“Who you kidding?” Maze asked. “You love it when she launches that fire on you.”
Ryske’s grin was audible in his voice. “Yeah, but I get a happy ending.”
“I just didn’t…” Yarker cleared his throat. “I didn’t think there was any need to be so amorous in front of others.”
“Welcome to my world,” Maze muttered.
“I thought…” Lydia spoke, her voice so meek that it took Harlow a second to realize where the noise had come from. “I thought you were engaged to Ophelia.”
“Nah,” Ryske said. “I came to my senses on that one… I’ve been fucking with Harlow for months anyway. Seemed smart to make the change official.”
“Official?” Yarker asked. “You’re… together?”
“Doesn’t mean your women are safe,” Harlow said, rubbing her cheek against Ryske’s knee.
“I don’t want there to be… difficulties,” Yarker said, his attention going to Ophelia and then around to Parratt at his side.
“There’s no animosity,” Ophelia said. “We are the closest of friends.”
The innuendo suggested more than friendship. The way Lydia’s chin rose caught Harlow’s eye. Was she shocked or was she interested in being part of that scenario? Ryske had been with Yarker’s wife and Parratt’s favorite mistress. It had never been confirmed, but Harlow suspected Lydia was that mistress. Though it could just be that the quiet woman had a thing for group sex.
Ryske must have noted Lydia’s reaction too. “What you doing after, Lydie?”
“Excuse me,” Parratt said, putting an arm across Lydia’s lap.
“Hey, man, I’ve got no problem with you excusing yourself right now,” Ryske said. “Or taking Yarker with you. Maze and me will take care of the women.”
“We have Pothos samples,” Lydia said, more animated than she had been all night.
“Lydia!” Parratt exclaimed in a way that reminded Harlow of her mother.
Harlow turned her face against Ryske’s leg, hiding her attempts to contain her laughter.
“No, babydoll,” Ryske drawled. “You don’t need chemical enhancements. This is me we’re talking about, not your sugar daddy. Don’t tell me you forgot what it’s like au naturale with me.”
Lydia was focused above Harlow, so she knew the woman was getting a glimpse of Ryske’s intense, consuming stare. Twisting to shift her position, Harlow pressed her breast to his leg and let her fingers wander up the leg of his jeans to graze her nails on his skin.
Grabbing the length of her hair, Ryske twined it around his hand, once and twice until his fist was locked against the back of her head. Her neck ached when he pulled it back, but it was a nice ache.
“We’ve gotta give Lydie a refresher, wanna watch or join?”
“No one is giving anyone anything,” Parratt snapped.
Ryske winked at her, then raised his chin to glare at the blustering man. “I’ve got a short attention span, Parratt. When there’s entertainment on offer, I take it… You want to talk business, talk. Otherwise, I’m taking my wares and moving this pussy party upstairs.”
“How will you react when we hold an event?” Yarker asked. “There will be scantily clad women everywhere. Women who may be sexually aroused. Women who will certainly be available.”
Hookers. Yes, Yarker was right that there would be women available at Pothos events. Ryske was the one providing them. It was the only reason these men tolerated him.
“Yeah,” Ryske said. “All trained or sampled by me… How many do you think? Twenty to start? Thirty?”
“You can… You can get that many immediately?” Parratt asked.
“I’ve got fifty on standby,” he said. “But, we’ve got to judge demand. We don’t want to oversupply or my girls don’t get the return they deserve… We don’t want a price war.”
Harlow had known about Pothos for a while and she’d known what the event would involve. She’d been the one to reach out to Svetlana in the first place. In addition to her investment, she had to bring something to the table. Back then, they’d all believed Ryske was dead. So, it had fallen to her to fulfil his commitment.
Ryske began to pitch his idea about crossing over the casino and Pothos nights to tempt interested parties into coming along without feeling any pressure. They didn’t want to scare people off.
Harlow didn’t hear everything that he was saying. She was busy trying to imagine what being in a room with fifty of Ryske’s ex-lovers would feel like. One or two was fine; it didn’t register as intimidating. But, fifty? Harlow hadn’t been with even close to that number of guys. She’d had some experiences in college, but after getting with Rupert, she’d been faithful. Since the age of twenty-two, she’d only been with two men: Rupert and Ryske.
She wasn’t sexually insecure and never had been. She didn’t doubt that Ryske enjoyed having sex with her. Yet, hearing that she’d be lost in the melee of dozens of his ex-lovers, Harlow wondered if she’d be diluted in the crush.
“Friday,” Ophelia said. “We will commence on Friday. Everything must be in place.”
Whether it was deliberate or not, the choice of that night was a slap in the face. Usually, she, Ryske, and Maze would have to veto a Friday because it was Floyd’s busiest night. But, that didn’t matter anymore, not now the place was charcoal.
Forlorn at the reminder, she breathed out and coiled her arm around Ryske’s leg again. Taking comfort from Ryske, she offered it to Maze too. Without looking, she raised her arm to seek his hand, which he gave her.
“Excellent. We’ll meet early, get the women organized… What is your capacity?”
“The twenty rooms off the main game floor have been refitted,” Ophelia said. “Each is an individual bedroom with storage and a restroom.”
“Ten would be a good number for a soft opening,” Parratt said. “We must have an agreement that investors are not allowed to sample product.”
“Works for me,” Ryske said. “I didn’t give you a dime.” Meaning he wasn’t actually an investor. “Another thing to get clear, my girls should be respected at all times. They are not product. They are businesswomen who make their own choices about what can and can’t be done with, and to, their bodies. No one forces them to do anything they don’t want to do. If any of them are harmed or feel disrespected, hell will be rained down on the perp.”
Harlow liked to think that he’d have made that as clear whether she was present or not. One thing Ryske was good at was treating women with respect. Even when he got rough with her or talked dirty, she knew he never stopped respecting her. He’d never force her, or any woman, to do anything against their will.
“Yes,” Parratt said. “Happy employees are productive em
ployees.”
“They’re contractors. They work for themselves,” Ryske said. “Allowed to leave at any time without notice… I want panic buttons in every room.”
Breathing in, Harlow opened her mouth, trying her best not to show her appreciation for his concern. Digging her teeth into his knee, her nails dug deeper into his shin.
“I’ll have them installed this week,” Ophelia said.
“Good,” Ryske said, dragging his fingers through her hair. “If we’re done, we’re getting out of here. My girl needs some attention. She’s about to draw blood… Not that I have a problem with that, but we’ve learned our lesson about leaving blood at potential crime scenes.”
Ryske and Maze slid forward, but Ophelia spoke. “Actually, I would like a minute alone with the women,” she said and stood up. “I assume both of you can speak for your parties.”
Parratt and Yarker were friends and Lydia had been present throughout negotiations. The mistress was as clued in as Harlow, maybe more given that she’d been involved since the beginning. But, Harlow didn’t envy Lydia being between her and Ophelia. Their relationship was fractious to say the least.
“A minute alone for what?” Parratt asked.
“Do you trust your woman or don’t you?” Ophelia asked and swept an arm around to gesture toward a door in the far corner next to the bar.
“I… yes,” Parratt gave Lydia the nod.
Harlow stood up and was about to follow when Ryske caught her hand. He trusted her to speak for him and their crew, she had no doubt about that. His hesitation would come with the knowledge Ophelia was capable of murder, something not everyone in the room was aware of.
Crouching because she couldn’t bend without flashing the other couch, she brushed her lips across his. “Go with it,” she whispered and retreated, forcing him to let her hand drift out of his.
Ophelia was holding the door open for her. Harlow strode to her without looking back and crossed the threshold to join a waiting Lydia. The new room was smaller, used for storage with a table in the middle and boxes all around. It didn’t have the same fine décor they’d enjoyed next door.
Go All In (A Go Novel Book 4) Page 6
