5
Eric
I’m like a walking timebomb as I make my way to my office.
Everything Summer told me swirls around in my head as if it might explode.
Poor thing, she truly had no fucking clue what she stumbled on.
What she explained about the tech—the Veil—as they called it, was enough, but when she dropped Barabbas Ponteix’s name, I knew exactly why they wanted her dead.
Barabbas Ponteix is a renowned black-market trader who works for the elite— motherfuckers in government, billionaires, and tycoons with a fuck ton of money and bad intentions. He bounces between Europe and the States, and when you shit on people like him, it means death to you and your kin.
That’s why they want her dead.
I’m guessing the tech has to be the same type they’ve been using that Dominic discovered. I’ll check it out, though, to confirm.
I would say tech like that would be worth five million, and it would definitely attract a man like Barabbas.
Summer finding out that it’s not working would more than screw with their plans. They’d be worried about losing all that money and Barabbas finding out their shit.
Shit, that all went down at Club Montage.
I’m no stranger to Monaco, and the same rings true for the club. It just wasn’t co-owned by Robert when I was going there, so that must be one of his new conquests. Very clever old friend. Sex sells.
Club Montage is a high-end sex club for the rich and famous, so I completely understand Summer’s hesitation in telling me where she’d worked. From the look of her, I know she was one of the main attractions and probably Robert’s main girl too, whether she wanted to be or not.
As she spoke, I saw regret, embarrassment, and disappointment in herself. It was all there in her eyes on top of guilt over her sister’s death.
The entire look of her was that of someone who’d sold their soul to the devil.
I know the feeling all too well, which is why I never judged her for it.
Club Montage is the perfect equivalent to the Dark Odyssey here in L.A. that Aiden owns. Or rather, I should say owns in name only. Before he got engaged to my sister, he used to have meetings there every week. Now Maksim and I take care of those types of meetings. There’s nothing sexual about them. They’re more of a decoy to assess those we choose to do business with.
At the Dark Odyssey, nothing is off limits. Club Montage is the same with the sole goal of providing a place for its patrons to live out their dark sexual fantasies of BDSM, group sex, and whatever the fuck you want to do. The women who work there are all part of that goal. They do whatever you tell them to do and be whatever you want them to be.
They belong to you for however long you book them. One hour, one night, one month, one year—whatever your fantasy dictates.
Obviously, the women are paid extremely well for being some rich bastard’s pet. They get money from the salary the club offers and money on top from the club-goers which could rise into the millions.
Even if a woman is into the sexual thrill, no one is going to aspire to work in a place like that and not for too long. The girls who end up there are more often than not the ones in trouble or the women who want to change their lives.
Summer looks like she fit into both categories.
What sent her there?
Whatever it is isn’t for me to worry about, though, nor is it for me to fix.
I’m hoping to wrap this all up quickly so we can all get back to our lives.
She can go back to hers, and I can end my pursuit for revenge.
As much as I just made her seem like nothing more than live bait to me, I’m not about to have her blood on my hands. There’s too much blood there already, but hers would taint my soul the most because she’s an innocent in the mix.
Borya meets me at the end of the corridor, looking curious. I haven’t briefed him properly yet other than a message letting him know we’re to provide Summer protection. He needs more details, though, so I should do that but not now. I’m too eager to research.
“The coast is clear, Boss,” he begins. “What is the status with the girl?”