Page 109 of House of Lies

I lick my lips, and she focuses on my mouth as she takes a slow sip of wine.

Christ, where do I even begin?

I started working for Myles a few months after my father died. It was a casual arrangement—they needed to fence some diamonds without drawing attention. I knew I was dealing with criminals, but I didn’t know who the hell the Balmont Boys were until it was too late.

I was young enough, stupid enough, that I thought I could broker one deal and get right back on the straight and narrow. But I handed over my soul that day without even realizing it.

Years later, I was laundering so much money for them I barely had time to sleep. And they rewarded me with anything I wanted. Art, cars, the deed to this penthouse suite.

We had a big scare a few years back when a cop got a little too invested in our operations. Myles had him killed. Fuck, he might even have pulled the trigger himself, who knows? We had to lie low, wait for things to cool down.

I was so fucking bored.

More money than I knew what to do with. Few friends, because I’d been working so hard, there was never time to make any. Myles, Smith, Rich, Troy—they were the only people I associated with.

So I started spending more time at their clubs and casinos.

More time with them.

Some eight years ago, give or take, Myles was celebrating his birthday at one of the many mansions he owns. A masked ball that quickly devolved into the most depraved, hedonistic affair I’d ever witnessed.

And experienced.

That night, everything changed.

The Balmont Boys had been looking for fresh talent, and they’d just found a diamond in the rough.

The things I took part in that night live rent free in my mind.

I became their star performer, and I’d never in my life felt so alive. I hired Angelo to help with my business because I was too busy to deal with clients myself. Plus, now I had even more money to launder…mine.

I’m not ashamed. Not in a million years. I loved working with the Balmont Boys. But it took a toll on my sanity. If I hadn’t met Becks when I had, I’m pretty sure there’d be nothing left of my soul.

“Ethan, please.”

I clear my throat. “Myles and the others run a place called the Devil’s Den. On the surface, it’s a nightclub. But that’s just a cover for the invite-only gentlemen’s club inside.”

Cassidy’s wearing her poker face, but her throat moves with a quick swallow at my words.

“Some of their members have dark urges.”

She frowns. “Dark how?”

I force down my irritation. “If you let me finish…”

She subsides, a sulky twist to her mouth, but a fascination in her eyes that makes me wonder if maybe, just maybe, I misjudged her.

Sometimes it’s easier showing someone than trying to explain.

When I rise to my full height, she leans back and gives me a wary look. “What are you?—?”

My hand snakes out, fingers wrapping around her throat, before I drag her off the kitchen stool. She grabs my wrist, nails digging deep, her eyes wide and bright with panic.

“Ethan!” Her voice is hoarse from the lack of airflow. I tighten my fingers just a little, and it all comes rushing back.

The adrenalin.

The power.

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