Page 4 of Royal Flush

Somehow, Steve’s short legs managed to allow him to catch up to us. “Mr. Royal. Mr. Royal. I have a bone to pick with you. I need a full refund. Your submissives suck. Especially Sabrina.” His voice had risen to a point that angered me.

I tried ignoring him, even though I knew that wouldn’t work but for so long and that was only because I wasn’t in the mood to fly off the handle. However, no one dared say anything negative about my employees. Especially with a loud voice and ridiculous insinuations. The moment he jumped into my face, continuing to allow his accusations to fly, I could instantly feel a chemical imbalance jetting through my bloodstream.

I kept a smile on my face as I’d been coached to do, even keeping my hands to myself as I crowded his space.

“Oh, shit,” Travis said under his breath. He’d witnessed the swell of anger inside of me before, forced to make amends to more than a few guests over the years. I’d learned to curtail my level of violence, something I’d had since I was a kid. Hell, I’d gotten myself arrested twice, much to the chagrin of my father. I’d been lucky one of the times hadn’t resulted in spending some time behind bars.

My suave attitude had been born then, which had allowed me to avoid most aspects of trouble. However, inside a club my brothers and I owned on a private island? To hell with rules, common sense, and decency.

Several of my guests knew when crossing me wasn’t in their best interest. The moment I turned both my full attention and my disgust toward the short-legged, fat bastard, many of my guests walked to other parts of the area. Small enclosures and a huge man like me didn’t go together well.

He started sputtering immediately, his puffy face turning beet red. I was aware he was stumbling backwards, even smashing into a poor waiter who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. It was even possible poor Steve had twisted his ankle. I had zero sympathy. When his back hit the wall with a rather brutal thud, that allowed me to smile.

Something my brother Valerio had taught me was that often violence wasn’t necessary. It was all about the art of intimidation. And I’d gotten damn good at it. Plus, it wouldn’t bode well for the Royal Players Club’s bottom line to be witnessed beating on the guests.

No matter how much I often wanted to engage in such nefarious behavior.

I was certain the man was going to scream as he looked at me with utter terror in his face. Meanwhile, I had my hands positioned in my pockets so that no one could mistake my actions for… predatory. My. Wasn’t I being sensitive?

“Wha… What are you doing?” Steve asked in a small voice.

I took my time taking a deep breath, nodding to one of the long-term guests while inching just a bit closer to the man. When I placed one hand on either side of him, one would have thought I’d already drawn blood.

“Don’t…” He didn’t need to finish his plea. He was going to beg me not to hurt him. He repulsed me.

“Mr. Plunkett. I pride myself in caring about every one of my employees. While I also hold most guests in the highest regards and desire their every fantasy be fulfilled, I’m not the kind of man to accept useless, frustrated comments from little-dicked men who try and lord their superiority over a woman. Or a man for that matter. Now, while I know you’re trying to make a name for yourself within the bowels of Congress, to act on your aggressions in my club isn’t in your best interest.”

He was still befuddled but added another stupid comment that was jerking at my last straw. He also slithered into the idiot of the year category by acting as if he was superior in this set of circumstances or any for that matter. “She’s a worthless employee. She couldn’t suck cock if God gave her hand-printed instructions. And if you think I’m going to allow your horrendous leadership and tolerance for stupidity to go without notice and warnings to others, you’re dead wrong, buddy. I know people. I’m an important man.”

I could deal with his voice rising again as he was making himself look like the fool he was. Yet the man who believed the world was his oyster made a fatal mistake.

He pressed his finger against my chest.

“Fuck,” Travis groaned but knew better than to get in the middle of the cyclone.

Thankfully, I took another deep breath, even holding it for a few seconds. Did that calm the raging beast inside of me? Perhaps enough that I’d allow the man to live. But could I be okay with him treating anyone this way without a harsh form of punishment? Hell, no.

All I needed to do was issue a single punch to his gut to defuse some of my anger as well as to make a stern but necessary point.

No one fucked with me on any level. Not with my business. My family. My employees.

Steve appropriately wheezed and all seemed to get very quiet around me, the kind of silence where you could hear a pin drop.

I could tell even Travis was holding his breath. To the man’s credit, Steve glared at me as if he was going to burst into tears. He was coughing and doubling over as much as the limited space between us would allow.

It was good to ease some of my tension, and removing his vile presence was a necessity for both my fury and the safety of my employees.

“It’s apparent you don’t know me very well, Mr. Plunkett. What I say goes. Period. Now, for the sake of your face and your health, you’re going to listen to my command. You’re taking the earliest flight out possible and you’re going to stay away from either club for a period of three months so you can do some intensive, personal reflection. It’s good for the soul.”

“But… But…”

I took a few seconds to adjust his disheveled tie, the cheap material assaulting my skin. “But nothing, Mr. Plunkett. No one disobeys my orders. And lives.”

It was as simple as that, the statement not untruthful. Sadly, I could tell while afraid of what I might do, he was still an arrogant bastard.

Steve’s eyes remained wary yet open wide. I used that as an incentive to back away and give him room.

He slithered to the side like the vermin I knew him to be.

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