It’s not part of what I do, I do not make house calls. Who the fuck does that? I sure as shit didn’t, until her. The girls are my responsibility to hire, to make sure they’re happy and that’s it. No house calls. This shit isn’t something I plan to do again. Seeing her at the club made me walk up to her, not because she had a man’s hands all over her—last time I saw a man do that she smashed him over the knuckles—but because she was letting those hands stay on her and not once did she pull away from his touch. It made me wonder who he was to her and why he could touch her the way he was. He noticed me first. It’s always the way when women are involved, men always notice.

Falcon dragged me out to find customers, it’s what he does. And seeing as I don’t like to leave work or home, he decided it was best if he dragged me out. On the terms that he would pay me, of course. We are in the game of business, and even if I trust all three of them with my life, I trust the money they make even more so.

Seeing Elicea at the club was unexpected, this place is always so busy. It always has been, most of our loyal customers come from here. Older gentlemen, if you want to call them that, come and spend up big, buying girls that they know are never going to look at them when they’re way too drunk. Falcon’s job is to show them that. That the money they spend at this bar, can be better spent to actually get what they want.

Women.

It’s our specialty.

We have rules, though.

Very strict rules. You can’t just enter our place of business because we approached you.

Except her.

She was my exception, which is what made Darby lose his shit at me.

I’m a rule follower, so breaking the rules isn’t something I do. Especially when I created most of the rules in the first place.

We find our customers, they then have to fill in an application form online. But this form isn’t your usual type of form. This is one where they have to give us all their details, including bank details and statements. So we will always know where to find them if need be. Plus, to complete all the necessary checks on them.

We take our business seriously. It’s how we’ve run it for years. It’s how we’ve made so much money over the years. Our customers are with us from the start, and never want to end. There are only two ways out of your contract with our club.

One—you pay your way out with a damn good reason. Most of the time marriage is the only acceptable reason.

Two—you die.

We don’t make any other exceptions.

We don’t just pretend to run an elite club, we are the elite club that’s whispered and spoken about in hushed tones. The one you want to tell everyone about, but if you do—let’s just say they know better than to talk out of school.

So Elicea, she fucked up all my rules. Even my rule on hiring the girls. And it was all from a single glance. She has turned my life into a tailspin.

There is, and always has been, only one woman in my life—my mother. She worked her ass off to give me the best education, and make sure I turned out to be a reasonable man. Now, I support her. I gave her a house for her birthday. She deserves it and so much more. She’s selfless, always has been. It’s a part of the reason I do what I do, to become great, and turn into the man she raised me to be. I had to do what was necessary. And I have.

She understands what I do for work, well, as much as I let her know anyway. She knows I run an exclusive and private club with the guys. We all went to school together and have been inseparable since seventh grade, so it came as no surprise when she found out we were opening a business together.

Falcon tries calling again as I walk down the street back to the club. I left him there and went straight to her house, knowing that’s where she’d end up. I was right. She wouldn’t even say a word to me before she left, but that was unexpected.

I have to say, though, if the hands of that man who was holding her didn’t remove them before I caught my next breath, she would have been scared. And running from me would have been the least of her worries because she would have seen what type of man I really am, and I’m not ready for her to see that side of me, yet. Things like that take time, or you hide them the best you can.

“What?” I answer as I arrive at the doors knowing full well where he is before seeing him. Pulling it open, he whistles loudly behind me. I can hear his footsteps. They’re loud against the floor—Falcon’s always noisy.

“You’re chasing a woman? Never thought I’d see the day.”

I turn, letting go of the door. “Fuck off.”

He shakes his hand out like it’s on fire. “And the temper to match it. You must be invested. When do I get to meet her? D told me all about her.”

“Today.”

Falcon’s smile picks up even higher on his face. “This should be interesting.” He pushes past me and goes inside before me. Walking up the stairs, he starts to whistle the song we used to tease Echo with. He was and has always been, our lovesick friend. ‘Kissing in the Tree,’ he still hums until I grab his jacket, slamming him into the wall. All he does is laugh knowing it’s pissing me off.

“Knock it the fuck off, Falcon, before I put my fist through your fucking face.”

He brushes me off and side-steps out of my hold. “What if I like her? What if she isn’t what you think? Have you thought of that?”

I have, many times. Echo’s shown us that despite who he loves, women aren’t really what they say they are. They can deceive and lie. The only people we can trust completely are the people within our circle. Us. No one else. Everyone else just wants something from us, once they know what we have or do.

“You can fucking have her. Fuck if I care. Just a piece of ass.” Storming away, D opens his door as I walk past, then looks to Falcon before he shakes his head, shutting the door again. He knows how Falcon is, the two of us always butting heads. We are the opposite, but somehow so much alike. Where he is loud, I am quiet.

Even the same type of women, which we found out early on in high school and Falcon always got whichever girl he wanted. He had that easy-going smile which could flirt the panties off any girl who walked by. I scared most of the girls. That’s not to say I didn’t get my fair share of pussy, just never the ones that I took too much of an interest in. That’s where Falcon came in, then he broke their hearts not long after. Another thing we have in common, we don’t do relationships.

“You’ll have to introduce me,” he says as I open my office door to get away from him.

D follows me in, shutting the door behind him. Then he starts pacing the room. “You’re going to have to fire her.”

My head shoots up at his words. “No.”

He turns fast to stare at me, his eyes trained in on me. “It’s already causing problems. Soon you and Falcon are going to be fucking punching on again. He knows how to piss you off. He knows your triggers. It’s just a matter of time before you blow up at him.” He’s right, if I fight with anyone it’s going to be him. And not verbal, we use our fists. Then after, everything’s usually fine. It’s just how we operate.

“Last time I had to fucking pay for a new wall. I’m not paying for a new wall again. Do you hear me?” He steps closer.

I roll my eyes as I look back to my computer. “I think you forget, D, that you aren’t the boss. You just think you are.” He throws his hands in the air, his fists are formed and anger is evident all over him.

“If you fucks didn’t fuck up, I wouldn’t act this way. Who do you think holds this place together?”

Standing up, my chair gets pushed backward. Falcon appears in the doorway, his hands crossed over his chest.

Did I also forget to mention, that no matter what, we always have each other backs?

“Watch your fucking words, D.” Darby turns around to see Falcon and shakes his head at him before he looks back to me. “Fire her, or I will.” He walks to my door, pushes past Falcon then slams his office door.

“You aren’t firing her,” Falcon says.

I shake my head, I know I’m not. “Nope, this isn’t just his company.”

We never complain about who he hires, yet he seems to have a problem with who we hire. Not happening. We respect him, but some choices aren’t his to make. Even if he thinks they are.

“She’s a brunette, isn’t she?” He laughs, knowing full well my type.

“Fuck off,” I say, throwing my stapler at him as he disappears out my door.