Page 20 of The Ties We Break

I try to tell myself to stop thinking about her, to stop imagining her curves, or trying to taste her on my tongue again, and if I do that, it will eventually go down. But fuck me if that doesn’t work. Instead, I have to beat one out like a hormonal teenager before I can finally get some sleep.

The job I have means my working hours don’t tend to start until late evening and go on until early morning, so I sleep a lot during the day. Sparring with Kian and a long night last night has wiped me out, and I fall asleep immediately. The sight of big brown doe eyes is the last thing I see as I drift off to sleep.

* * *

The loud,constant beeping of my alarm clock pulls me out of a very sexy dream featuring a certain brunette beauty. Whenever I think about her, I feel like a kid again. Like she gives me a reason to be hopeful. I think I feel so strongly towards her, besides her obvious beauty, because she’s leaving. I already know that whatever the hell happens with us, the ending is already set in stone. In the end, she will fuck another man and leave for London. Normally, I would constantly be thinking or worrying about when the woman would leave me because they all do in the end. But with Belle, I have a timeline. I know exactly when she will be gone, and I’m okay with that. This is the perfect way to have a little fun before she leaves.

Once I’m dressed, I quickly walk around the club, ensuring everything is set up for one of our busiest nights. We are open twenty-four seven because people like to fuck at all hours, believe it or not. But, we only need a skeleton staff during the day, as there’s very little going on. I start to look for Jasmine, but she finds me first. She always does.

“Did I see a certain little doe-eyed brunette sneaking out of your apartment in the early hours of the morning?” She squeaks with a happy smile on her face. I just wait and let her get over her moment, but when she starts waggling her eyebrows I can’t help laughing.

“Relax, she was just signing up for the auction.”

Now, instead of being happy and a little annoying, her eyes crinkle and she looks at me sceptically, thrusting her tits up as she folds her arms under her chest. As my assistant manager, Jas has been told that she doesn’t have to dress the same way the floor staff does. But she always says that was how she started, and she never wants anyone to think she feels she is better than them. So she dresses the same. But as a result, sometimes the staff see her as more of a friend than a boss. Whereas with me, there’s no fucking doubt I’m in charge.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you allow a non-member into the auction,” Jas asks dubiously.

Fuck, I completely forgot that Belle isn’t technically a member. Well, she will be soon. “She became a member last night. I advised her to wait until next month’s auction, but she is desperate for cash this month. I will keep an eye on her until the auction and ensure her entry form is complete and accurate before she steps onto the stage.” Her face softens, and she’s back to looking as beautiful as before.

“Before I forget, someone came looking for Desmond. I wanted to talk about the auction. He was very vague but I could put the pieces together, and he’s not a good dude, Dec. This guy was talking about including girls as young as fifteen into the auction and passing them off as legal age. I didn’t get involved, but I don’t want to be part of that kinda shit, Dec. If that’s the way Desmond wants to take things, then I’m done.”

As her words slowly sink in, a red mist descends. I have done my fair share of bad shit in the past, and I’ve paid for it. I’m more than grateful to Desmond for giving me this fantastic start, but if that's his dream for the club, he needs to find himself a new manager. “I will ring Desmond now and keep you updated. I will be gone all night, but I’m on my phone if you need me.”

“Where are you going?”

“It’s Kian's fight tonight. I thought I told you,” I reply whilst trying to rack my brain to recall the conversation. I’m sure I always tell her these kinds of things.

“Oh, I do remember. It’s just you are looking a little more dressed up than you normally do for a fight. Don’t get me wrong, you look fucking amazing in a suit, but this is the moneymaker. Ripped jeans that cling to your hips and show off your ass, a tight black tee that clings to all your muscles, and a black leather jacket to round off the look and really tell the world you are a bad boy,” Jas practically sings as she describes my attire. She is right, I usually go to these things in my sweats, but for some reason, I wanted to make a little bit of an effort tonight.

“Bye, Jas,” I retort with an eye roll as I walk out of the club, the light tinkles of her laughter drifting behind me.

Sliding behind the wheel of my sleek, black BMW, I start the car and drop out of the car park onto the road. I have made the drive into the central part of town so many times I could navigate it blindfolded, but this is a new location for me, which is why the map is open on my SatNav. When Kian books a fight, he’s told the general vicinity so he can be near enough not to miss out. But, it’s not until just one hour before the first fight kicks off that the rest of us receive a text message with details of the venue. Without that, you can’t get in. You have to be on time, so I’m driving a little quicker than I usually do.

Deciding to make use of this journey time, I dial Desmond using the Bluetooth speaker in my car. He answers after only two rings. “Yes.” His voice is abrupt and no-nonsense, a bit like him. Or at least the Desmond he wants to portray. I think I have seen glimmers of potential, that maybe he isn’t as crazy as everyone thinks, but then he will go and do something even worse than before and I question myself all over again. Although most people think there must be something wrong with him for him to throw his youngest son, Liam, out of the family, I think there’s a lot more to the story than maybe even Liam knows. From what I heard, Liam was going to be Desmond’s prodigy until he developed his own brain. I have never met any of Desmond’s family, but I’ve heard all the fucked up rumours, and that’s enough for me.

“Des, we had someone in the club earlier. He was enquiring about putting some girls in the auction this month. Evidently, you would never know they are fifteen because they pass for legal. What the fuck is going on, Des?” I try to maintain a level of respect because I am talking to my boss, as well as someone who is quite likely psychopathic and will not hesitate to kill me if I piss him off.

“Don’t worry, Dec. It’s been handled. I have started doing business with some old British guy, and he’s as rich as anything. I’m hoping he will bankroll me when the time comes for me to make a play against the O’Keenans in London. So, for now, I’m just keeping him buttered up. It would appear he deals a lot with underage girls and has a strong network around the country. He wants me not only to put them in the auction but also in the club permanently. So anyone can pay to book time with them, like any of the other performance staff.” I can hear the hope in his voice. He thinks if he explains why he wants it, I will take pity on him and side with him. Sometimes I will, but not on this.

“Fucking hell, Desmond. Since when do you deal in the human trafficking and prostitution of young girls? I have no idea what you have promised this guy, but if that is coming into this club then I’m gone. You agreed when you took me on as manager that I could run it my way, legally. I can’t and won’t tolerate this!” I shout, forgetting all about my plan to remain calm and respectful. The disgust of the situation completely overwhelms me.

“Calm down, Declan. If you don’t want it in the club then that’s fine. I will find another way to keep the fusty old British toff happy,” he retorts.

“Desmond, please don’t take this as an insult or me overstepping my boundaries because I’m very fucking grateful you’ve stuck to your word and agreed that the club can remain a legal business, but I have to ask: why would you get involved in this? He sounds like a sadistic fuck who doesn't care about anything or anyone. Someone who doesn’t respect young girls and women is capable of anything. How do you know he won't respond badly to you refusing him?”

With a small laugh that sounds far too much like an evil, villain-like chuckle, Desmond responds just as I pull onto the dirt track that looks like it leads to the fight venue. “Oh, I know I will need to give him something in return, and I feel sure he will pick something big. This is the second time I have stood up to him now. So, I’m hoping he will realise I’m not someone to be messed with.”

Taking in his words, my brain wracks over what he just said as my body judders from the horrendously bumpy road. “What did you do the first time?” It blurts out before I can even consider that I may have overstepped. Luckily, Desmond has always seen me as more than just an employee since he rescued my ass a few years ago. So, he wastes no time replying.

“He wanted my girls, Ryleigh and Freya. So, I devised a plan to make it look like I was letting him have what he wanted, but in reality, he was getting nowhere near them. Liam, with his constant need to be the hero, stepped in andsavedthe girls. They now go to school in a secret location and hate me. And my son has not only left me, but he has left the family too. He has officially been disinherited, much to the annoyance of my wife. Granted, that wasn’t quite the idea, and on reflection, I maybe could have thought of something else. I wasn’t planning on losing three of my five children. But at least I know they’re safe.” He trails off at the end, his voice beginning to take on a sad note that I’m not used to hearing from Desmond. I’m used to him sounding sadistic and a bit crazy, but sentimental is a first for me.

Pulling into a space amongst many other cars, I take in the giant field used for parking before replying to Des. “Have you considered telling everyone the truth? This could all be fixed, and your family could forgive you?”

His reply is instant, and there is not even a flicker of sentimentality, making me question if it was even there to begin with. “No. My time to make things right with my family will come; I just need to wait for the perfect moment.”

“Okay, you always have a plan,” I reply, and before I can even get the end of the sentence out, Desmond lets out a small chuckle.

“Too fucking right, I do. So, I’m telling them no illegal shit in the club, and hopefully, he doesn’t kill me this time. I meant to tell you, you're doing good, kid. I looked at the online books the other day and you’re making me a killing. All the new ideas you have for the place are working well. I’m proud of you.”

---