Page 17 of Gilded Desires

Gage’s dark eyes are nearly black with desire. “And you’re the dessert.”

Four

Belle

An hour later I slide out of a cab at Club Genesis and immediately feel the shift of energy. And I haven’t even entered the place yet. Here it’s death, power, and money. The Gilded Key Society is something different altogether. Power for sure. Some of the most powerful people are members who are also known as key masters or key bearers, I’ve learned. The decadent aura and welcoming energy wrap around me like a warm, sinful embrace.

I grab my phone and pull up my cousin’s chat. Sapphire Constantine is the only friend I have in this crazy world. Knowing she was still trying to get her bearings with her new job, I didn’t want to burden her with my crazy idea until I knew it would fly. I hated canceling our lunch plans, but I don’t hate the results. Tonight’s dinner date holds a lot of promise.

My stomach growls reminding me dinner is still hours away.

Besides, she has her own love worries. I mean, being head-over-heels for the enemy is one fat problem I wouldn’t want. The Southern Alliance has been on my brother’s shit list for years.Well, my father’s. My brother only inherited the list from him when he got busted by his girlfriend who turned out to be an undercover cop.

It’s a rollercoaster of a story, but I will say that I am so fucking happy I am not my brother. Being forced into a role you don’t want is not how I see life going for me.

I pause outside the large revolving glass doors of Club Genesis and wave my newspaper around me in case the heavy scent of sex clings to my dress. I wonder if I should run up and shower before seeing my brother.

An aging doorman steps out, ending my dilemma. “Young lady, this is not a building open to the public. I would kindly ask you to move along.”

I raise my gaze to find Mr. Valister’s aging one. White and black hair tops his head and peeks out a little at the edge of his black cap.

“Mr. Valister, you mean to say you don’t recognize your favorite Constantine?” I say teasingly.

The man who gave me a grape-flavored lollipop every day of my childhood looks surprised and then embarrassed. He’s worked at almost every hotel my family owns. When Harlon and his partners established this place, Harlon refused to hire anyone else. He only wanted people he trusted watching the gates to his kingdom.

“Ma’am, I apologize,” he starts and I pat his hand when he takes mine between his.

“Don’t. It’s the wig, isn’t it,” I offer playfully and walk into the cool downstairs lobby with yards of red carpet, white marble, and crystal chandeliers spread out before me.

Club members come and go at all hours, but the majority don’t show up until sundown. It’s part of the whole underworld mystique, I guess. Crime by night seems to be their thing. Since it’s barely three in the afternoon I’m not surprised to find the lobby’s white leather settees empty. A discrete bar in the back glitters with tens of top-shelf liquor and I make my way there only to find the bar unattended.

Huh. Damn. I was hoping for an espresso martini before confronting my brother. Actually…I look around. Why isn’t he descending on me with half the security force?

I step into the elevator and hit the big number three and stand back as the metal box swooshes up.

Club Genesis is five levels of crime. There’s the basement. You never want to hear Harlon say, “Taken ’em to the basement.” He does a better impersonation of a dark underlord than I do, but when he says those five words, I’ve seen men take their own lives rather than see the inside of Harlon’s basement. Nothing funny about that. As I said, Harlon and his partners have worked hard on building up their reputation and they are good at what they do.

The first floor you just saw. It’s nothing more than a gathering place to see and be seen. The kitchen is down there too, but I rarely go there.

Now the third floor…this is the death-dealing floor. Sapphire and the men call it the dark floor. Actually, I think everyone but me does.

It’s where the members of Club Genesis come to take out a hit, square away differences and work out the finer details of contracts between powerful families. It’s a weapons-free zone that has not seen a drop of blood spilled. That leans back on how good Harlon and his men are at their jobs. It’s where you will find the runners fulfilling contracts and Sapphire dealing with their asshole attitudes.

A big no thanks. Killers with attitudes are not my thing. The top two remaining floors are for guests needing sanctuary. Sometimes I grab a room if I’m bored with the suite in Harlon’s mansion outside the city. He says it’s mine too, but again. I accept more than the pension I’m allotted as the mafia princess, and I might as well sign up for taking the throne.

Another big no thanks.

The elevator slows to a stop on the third floor, and I cross the empty reception area and head straight for the private elevator to the right of the large desk.

Leather creaking has my hair standing on end, but I keep moving. To my left and near the receptionist is the lounge—a collection of sofas and low knee-level tables where Genesis’ runners come looking for a contract to fulfill. Or collect payment on one. I don’t stop to ask who’s doing what. Runners give me the creeps sitting there flipping knives or polishing guns waiting for their next kill.

I can feel their eyes on me as I step off one elevator and head to another. I punch the button for the top level and count to five as the doors slowly lock. I get that my brother needs to control access above this level, but I hate that getting to Harlon’s office requires a stop on this floor unless. Well, unless I want to take the hidden passages tucked away behind the bulletproof walls.Ugh, but the spider webs make dealing with these creeps seem the lesser of two evils.

I don’t breathe again until I walk off the elevator and see my distraught security detail looking like death rolled over them.

“Boys, good to see you again.” I smile but that doesn’t go over too well. All I get are grunts and mumbles as I pass them and head into my brother’s office. The door is halfway open which is as good as an invitation. I swing the large slab of dark wide and plop down in the nearest chair and place my Birkin in the chair next to me.

“My feet are killing me.”

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