Page 105 of Stabby Little

"I researched your past. I'm concerned," Constantine grits out.

My eyebrows stitch together. I don't see why this is coming up now. I've never once asked him what he and his brothers do for money. Fuck knows rumors swirl around the underworld about their family and the shit they've done.

Hell, running this club is expensive as fuck and there's no way it pays for itself. Prime real estate like this on the Upper East Side? Billionaires and wealthy plutocrats frequent it, but that doesn't give them the means to throw these lavish parties. The membership fees are only thirty thousand dollars per year—which doesn't amount to much when your mortgage is tens of millions.

"We have an understanding," I say, my voice gravel. "I've never asked you about your family's business dealings and you've never inquired into mine. I'm not impressed you're unilaterally changing the terms of our agreement."

"Strange shit's happening in the city. Shit I haven't seen in all my years of living here."

Constantine and his brothers immigrated from Italy a decade ago. They grew up on the Riviera with properties overlooking the sea. They've never wanted for money, yet the lives they live exceed those of wealthy European aristocrats. Constantine's brother Gianluca is a top cardiologist, but his Manhattan apartment is worth at least twenty million. Cardiologists, even reputable ones, can't afford that. Not penthouse suites overlooking Central Park.

Mob bosses can. Or government-backed weapons' dealers.

"I'm not challenging you," I say.

"Two new members attempted to join our club last week under assumed names. They said they knew you and that you could vouch for them. When Valentin asked for identification, they refused to provide it. They said they were only interested in attending our masked events and that they wished to conceal their identities. I refused to grant them membership."

"I don't know who these men are."

"You must have some idea."

Was it Michael's brothers? Or his underlings? I contemplate this, yet there's no way they can link me to this club. I keep these two areas of my life separate. If Michael desired to learn what I did in my leisure time, he would've figured it out long ago.

Besides, I have an alibi for Saturday nights. Michael thinks Linda and I meet then to talk things out. We're not planning to reconcile, but we're paving the way toward a more fulfilling joint parenting relationship.

"I don't," I say.

"You'd better not be a spy, Grant. We don't think you'd hurt us, but we must be careful."

"I've been coming to this club forever."

"I know."

"If I had a vendetta against you, I'd have acted on it long ago."

Constantine places his hand on mine. "I won't say any more. Just know that you must be very, very careful. I don't know exactly who you work for, but if my suspicions are correct, I don't think you know how deep your bosses are involved in dark shit."

My blood runs cold. "Who do you think I work for?"

Constantine leans in. "I can't tell you that. All I can say is that a man named Grant called into an alternative news source recently—one that my men fund for opposition research. He didn't leave his last name, but I heard the recording my blogger made and it sounded familiar. This man seemed like he was caught up in something he didn't realize. Regarding a warehouse in Yonkers."

My gin and tonic slips from my fingers. "You know about the warehouse explosion?"

"My brothers and our Russian associates burned it to the ground."

"You're lying."

Constantine shakes his head. "Don't be afraid to come to me if you need a new employer or if you discover more evidence of your boss's crimes. Gianluca, Benedetto, and I will help."

33

OLLIE

I'm in the corner.The darkness. I don't want to take part in the festivities.

Why did I agree to return here again? Valentin made it sound like this shibari demonstration wasn't a big deal, but it clearly is. He requested that I serve clients drinks in my kitty outfit. Easy peasy, right?

The place is packed. People are getting up to all sorts of kinky shit in the club room, sucking each other off and fucking while a man ties a woman up in the center. Pups on leashes and Daddies spanking boys surround me, filling the place with the sounds of sex. Some boys I've seen walking through the hallways are cozying up to strangers, rubbing their manicured nails on their chests. Littles in onesies are in the playroom, not bothering to watch the demonstration, but Middles and other boys glue their eyes to the show.

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