Page 41 of Devoured
CHAPTER 11
Iris
Roland studied the leaf-bladed fan above us, then drained his drink. “You’re going to have to think of a new business model,” he said.
“What do you mean?”
“Dahlia worked off of debts.” He sat the empty glass on the side table, then adjusted his lounge chair so that it was facing me. “She used those debts to keep the servers in line, right?” I nodded. “And to fund the club. If you end up as the new owner, that’s my one condition. No slavery. Everyone who works at the Dahlia District works there because it’s their choice.”
My jaw dropped open, but I closed it shut. Which part was more surprising? That he had a condition for giving up ownership of the new club, that he actually cared about the servers, or that he had said the wordsif you end up as the new owner? It was a true possibility in his mind now. Maybe even a guarantee.
“I can work with that,” I said, trying hard to keep my words smooth, to not let the excitement show. It’s not like I was going to argue about their freedom. I agreed that it was an absolute necessity.
“And then there’s the Adlers. I had originally planned on using them occasionally, but mostly for my own gain. If the legal aspect doesn’t work out, you’d have to get them to agree to protect the club from the police.”
There was that past tense,had planned, as if Roland no longer planned that way. My heart fluttered. “Right.”
“This might not be a secret, but the Adlers don’t trust you,” he said.
“And I don’t trust them, so we’re even.”
“Well, if you’re doing something illegal, you’re going to need them.”
I groaned. He had a good point. “So business model, meaning that if I can’t keep what I’m selling through force, then—”
“You have to figure out another way to make it enticing to work there.”
That made sense.
“Remember that no one has any debts at the Dahlia District anymore,” he said. “But I’m leaving it up to you to tell them. Any of the servers who look at their accounts should notice an increase in income, but if they don’t check, they won’t know. I was planning on offering all of the servers jobs as staff at the new nightclub, but you can decide how to handle telling them the news.” He put a hand on my shoulder, leaning in. “Your first official task as manager.”
The shitty part was that if I told them right now—called up one of the servers, told her to tell the rest of them that they were free to do whatever they wanted—most of the servers would be gone by the time we returned. And I couldn’t blame them for that. But I needed a couple of days to figure out a plan, how best to approach a new transition, whether it meant I took ownership, or Roland made it into a nightclub. Either way, I couldn’t stand the thought of losing another friend. There was no way I wanted to force the servers into slavery, but like Roland said, I needed a plan, and I wanted to make absolutely sure that I was aware of what I was doing before I made any big changes.
“Can I make a suggestion?” he asked. I turned towards him. He actually wanted to ask, and not tell me his mansplaining ideas? “Ah, screw it. You’re still trying to convince me of your submission.”
And there it was, his reminder of our power dynamic.
I raised a brow. “For someone who is adamant about freeing the servers from sexual slavery, you’re awfully excited to force me into submission.”
“Hypocritical, yes, I know. But honestly, I don’t care.” As if I couldn’t tell. But fuck me—that smirk was appealing now. I wanted to rip it off of his face and ride his lap at the same time. “Besides, this isn’t like that.” He straightened, then put on a serious look. “Dahlia mentioned that a lot of the servers have left the club in recent months. Their regular club members tend to leave with them too.”
“Yes.”
“See how many of those servers you can convince to come back. As servers or staff. Or even as club members. We can give them a lifetime membership for their service or whatever, and use their return as a way to tempt other club members. Then you can use that to help shape your business model.”
His brown eyes were bright, the sun shining in them, like lightly roasted coffee beans waking me up. How was it that a man who wanted me to surrender completely, to convince him of my submission, was also a man that was giving me business advice? Like we were associates. Partners even, both set on changing the landscape of the Dahlia District for the better. We were equals right then. He actually considered my business ideas and was giving advice on what he thought was necessary.
And for once, I could listen to a man without rolling my eyes. I could takehimseriously. I had to admit, he was successful in his career. Maybe he could teach me something.
“What?” he asked. “What’re you smiling about?”
“Not my intention,” I snarked, but I couldn’t help it. The side-smile lingered on my lips. If Roland saw me as an equal, then this was good. This meant that I was closer to owning the Dahlia District.
And maybe it meant that he took me seriously too.
As much as I hated to admit it, maybe I felt differently about him as well. Maybe he wasn’t a man-whore with a partying habit who had somehow stumbled his way into wealth. Maybe he was a legitimate businessman with a plan, even if that plan seemed to have a lot of playtime.
“There it is again,” he said, a hint of smooth pleasure in his voice. “That smile.”
