Page 7 of Greed: The Savage
Thornwick kept his calm. “And you? What you think or want is what I care about.” He appealed to the man’s pride, arrogance, and desire for control.
A quick, restless tick betrayed Dynevor’s composure. “Ain’t seeing nothing wrong with you taking another along with you.”
Oh, there wouldn’t be. That was, if Thornwick didn’t have ulterior motives.
Bollocks!
Thornwick changed tack. “Is this because of Lady Wakefield?” Bloody curse, the new Countess of Wakefield. “As far as I’m concerned, she was here of her own volition. I interviewed her. The lady was not leaving. She begged to stay.” Just for reasons that hadn’t a thing to do with any real desire on the lady’s part to be at the Devil’s Den.
“I don’t disagree with you.” Grimacing, the earl downed the rest of his drink in a single swallow. “Wakefield doesn’t see it that way.”
“Why should he? What nobleman wants to admit the woman he made his countess chose to take part in a virgin auction?” Thornwick didn’t bother to hide a sneer. “Imagine a fellow likeWakefieldtelling his offspring the tale of how they met.”
Dynevor laughed loudly and unexpectedly.
How the Earl of Wakefield, London’s stodgiest, most propriety-driven, lord had come to be an owner of this place still remained a mystery.
Wakefield also happened to be the reason the three owners rejected Thornwick’s purchase offer of a stake in the club. They’d already had one nobleman too many. Wakefield belonged in this world even less than a diamond of the first water’s debutante belonged in the Devil’s Den.
He knew not to say as much. Loyalty mattered most to the young earl. Thornwick respected that.
Dynevor fetched himself a cheroot from his silver cheroot tray and offered one his way.
He declined.
“The fact remains,” the earl said. After he lit his white scrap, he raised it to his mouth. “As a partner, he’s got a say in the running of the club, whether we like it or not.”And I absolutely do not,hung there, not needing to be spoken.
This time, Thornwick really needed a drink. He made himself take a measured swig of brandy.
The Earl of Dynevor released a small, perfectly circular cloud of smoke. “It ain’t just Wakefield. Latimer is in full agreement.”
“They’ve gone soft,” Thornwick said bluntly.
The heartless proprietor wouldn’t see Thornwick’s assessment as a betrayal because he believed in speaking absolute truths.
As he’d counted on, Lord Dynevor took another slow, relaxed draw from his cheroot. “Marriage will do that to a fellow.”
The disgust stamped on his life-hardened, scarred features said it all. That fate wasn’t one he’d be suffering, not anytime soon, but never.
Thornwick returned to the pressing matter at hand. “I’m not sharing power,” he stated bluntly. “I came in under certain terms, and I’m here serving effectively and faithfully in my role, only as long as they’re honored.”
“We’d never ask you to share power,” Dynevor assured. “Bringing someone along with you is not a power-share. It’s more a safeguard against risk.”
“I’m listening.”
“They want a female from the club to join you.”
He’d be scouting for a wife, and with one of the girls from the club joining him, Thornwick couldn’t very well go about seducing his prospective and very naughty bride.
Could this get any bloody worse?
“I’m sure this is coming from Lady Wakefield and Mrs. Latimer,” Dynevor said as he gave a tip of his ashes. Some spilt onto the marble tabletop, and the embers put themselves out. “That said, I think there’s definite merit to the idea of having a trusted girl from the Devil’s Den around so there can be a…female perspective.”
A hard grin formed on both their lips. They, two hardened men, cynical as Satan himself, both managed to smile, for they each knew that all the women in this club were as hardened and jaded and ruthless as the men employed here.
It wasn’t just going to be some polished lady accompanying him on his interviews of prospective candidates for the virgin auction. It was going to be some woman who’d toiled in the streets until she’d arrived on Dynevor’s doorstep.
He could assign Thornwick any one of the women, but they’d all be the same.
