Page 138 of Santiago's Conquest (Four Dark Horsemen 1)

Apparently, without my supervision, the club falls apart.

What the fuck is Remi doing? It should be his responsibility to oversee this shit.

Florian is too artistic to deal with finances and any paperwork, preferring to focus on his designs or the interior should the need arise; plus, he is good with publicity. Women flock to the club based on interest in him alone.

Octavius already has his plate full with his oil empire. He always researches stuff to make clubs more appealing though and inserts new advertising strategies.

I have to help Dad. I work on the marketing division and deal with all the employees who find me the nicest to talk to.

So what the fuck is Remi doing?

I hear Anna click on her laptop in the distance, before she replies to me, “Yes. We tried finding replacements but no luck.”

“I don’t want replacements, Anna. I want these dancers.” They are the best in the field, and some people came just to see them.

“I’m sorry, sir, but they said they no longer wish to work here.”

I rub my chin, anger settling inside me at the abrupt departure after we’ve been nothing but great to them, and throw another question. “Where are they working now?”

She clicks several times again. “They found a job at Dungeon of Burlesque. Lachlan Scott, the owner, was the one to pay forfeit on their contracts. Oh, and you lost the cook too,” she says, fear in her voice as if she probably doesn't know how I will react to that.

“Anything else I should know about?”

“No, but several servers have expressed the desire to leave. They have families in New York, and the pay offered is better. At the same club,” she finishes lamely, and I disconnect, leaning back in my chair and rub my eyes, because the picture becomes quite clear to me.

Lachlan is not a fairy godmother who goes around making dreams come true; the fucker only does stuff that benefits him, and he’s essentially attacking our nightclub.

It’s the first sign of war.

“Mierda.” I get up, too furious to think straight, and watch the changing scenery through the huge window in my office while dwelling on several problems at hand.

How am I supposed to focus on Lachlan, when I’m still trying to catch Andreas, who lies so low none of the people I tortured in the last two months know where he is?

I know he is close though; my instincts are always alert in anticipation of his attack that never comes. However, studying all the mansions, warehouse, and large buildings in close proximity brings zero results.

Does he wait for my wife to get pregnant to make a move?

Rage fills my every bone at the thought of my Briseis, who has become vitally important to my life, in his hands.

I’m obsessed with her every move and breath, needing her like air, and each day, it only grows worse, turning me into a madman just as I feared.

Is this love?

Rotten love though, because if she ever tries to leave me, I will bring her back every single time.

Ironically, I understand my father very well right now. Although giving a woman so much power over yourself is scary, and nothing scares monsters.

Nothing but losing the one who brightens up their hell.

The doors to my office burst open, and in the glass’s reflection I see Remi entering.

We look at each other for several seconds before I spin around to face him and grit through my teeth. “Qué hiciste?”

He hooks his thumbs in his jeans pockets, giving me a crooked grin. “Better question is what didn’t I do.”

Anger spikes inside me, but I rein it in, ordering my control to come back, because one of us needs to stay sane. “Qué hiciste?” I repeat, and he opens his mouth to reply, when the door bursts open again and a furious Octavius steps inside, with Florian right behind him. “By all means, enter my office as you please.” Sarcasm seeps into my voice, and Florian just shrugs, clearly unfazed by the tension in the air.

Then again, when did Florian give a fuck about anything or anyone? His only saving grace was finally stopping whoring around about two years ago. Right when Jimena came back from abroad. He either became extremely selective or just took an oath of celibacy, which is a laughable notion in itself.

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