Max stepped out from one of the club’s private rooms, straightening the cuffs of his tailored shirt before heading to the smoking room to relax. He didn’t so much as cast a backward glance at the three stunning young ladies who were in the final stages of putting themselves back together after their fun in the king-size bed.

Normally he wouldn’t have relied on call girls, no matter how sexy or skilled they were. He didn’t exactly have trouble finding women on his own. Tonight he didn’t have the time or patience to go through the motions society dictated. He didn’t even crave the chase. He’d wanted to get off. Multiple times. Which he had, as did the three ladies still in the room. Three was the perfect number in this case. Blonde was on her knees with Max’s cock in her mouth half the time, while Redhead rode his hand and Brunette took turns kissing him and playing on Redhead’s breasts. Maybe four would be fun for next time.

A noise from the hall drew his attention. He glanced over in time to see the three beautiful girls walking past, on their way out. He hoped that after paying them a few thousand dollars each they could afford to take it easy for the rest of the night. They’d earned it.

He lit his Stradavarius Churchill cigar, enjoying the cloud of hazy smoke in which he was soon enveloped. He only smoked while he was here, at the club—otherwise he hated the habit and loathed the smell of regular cigarette smoke on others. He’d been thrilled when the city had banned smoking in public establishments. Of course, the club didn’t fall under the umbrella of such a law.

He took turns between his stogie and his whiskey, the amber liquid burning a trail down his throat. To his left was the floor to ceiling wall of tinted glass windows, which were usually covered by stately burgundy velvet drapes, but tonight they had been left open by one of the help on the request of one of Max’s friends.

In the distance, the flickering Manhattan city lights sparkled and teased the dark, moonless sky. The tiny waves of the Hudson River suggested a less windy night tonight. It was quiet in here for a change. He guessed the rest of the men were busy at their game at the billiards tables. They knew his habits well enough to know where to find him if they needed him.

One of the scantily clad female servers slipped in through the open mahogany doors with a tray of drinks, probably for the men.

“Sorry to bother you, Mr. Hendrick,” said the sexy brunette. Every server in this establishment was gorgeous and refined, but he always took note of the exquisite ones, like Brunette here. He would have been affected by those sky blue eyes, ample cleavage and long legs if he hadn’t already been sated just minutes ago. She had plump lips too, the kind he liked to see wrapped around his shaft every so often. The sky high stilettos and slinky black micro dress didn’t hurt either.

“Yes?”

“Mr. Neville asked me to deliver this drink to you.”

“Is it my favorite?”

“It is, sir. Extra dry, extra cold, rocks glass, three rocks, one olive. Prepared less than a minute ago.”

He raised his eyebrows and accepted the drink. “Perfect. Send him my regards.” 

An image on the sixty-inch plasma screen TV along one wall of the room caught Max’s eye just then. Picking up the remote, he rewound the DVR and replayed the news piece with the volume turned up.

The words only vaguely filtered through Max’s consciousness. He was more interested in the face that filled the screen. He hit ‘pause’, freezing the close-up image. For a suspected thief and a murderer, she was astoundingly gorgeous. Long, honey-blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail over one shoulder. Light hazel eyes with hints of green that reminded Max of peridot. Young, slim, perfectly balanced features.

There was more to it than her beauty, though. She was…defiant. That was the word. As though daring anyone to try to hurt her. She was staring straight at the camera. Challenging the world. Challenging him. Something inside him felt like she was being that way just for him.

His concentration moved from the news item when the room was filled with his six friends. Prentice, Chauncey, Ted, Malcolm, Jeff and Victor all filed in and took their seats in various spots around the large room. All were part owners of the club, just as Max was. It had become their meeting place. For some, it was like a second home.

“Max, you missed seeing Ted kick the shit out of Chauncey,” Prentice joked. Max’s eyebrows shot up, but not from surprise. They were all competitive, some more jokingly than others, but Chauncey was the worst. Even the simplest game of pool became a life-and-death struggle for him. Max wondered at times whether this wasn’t why Chauncey was already on his third soon-to-be-ex-wife at the tender age of thirty-one.

“No worries,” Ted answered with a hint of defiance. “I’ll have the last laugh yet.”

“Actually, Carter’s the one laughing now,” Prentice added. Carter Neville, Victor’s older brother, was not around tonight. He was still out in Lake Tahoe, and had not returned from their lodge since he hooked up with Missy, a pretty little local waitress he met during their annual winter retreat. The others already had a bet going on how many days it would take for Carter’s love connection, or whatever he was calling it, to fizzle. Three weeks had passed already, so officially they had all lost that bet.

Max shot a look at Ted as Malcolm stepped up to the box of cigars resting on a nearby serving table. “How’s your night been?” Malcolm asked Max with a sly grin.

“Fun,” Max answered, leaving it at that. He took a puff of his cigar. The usual banter didn’t mean anything to him right now. He couldn’t get that girl from the news out of his head.

“So listen,” Jeff announced, taking a seat with his glass of whiskey in hand. He settled in one of the buttery, deep brown leather chairs at the middle of the room, then looked at Max again. “We used the time while you were—busy—to talk about the debt you owe us.”

Max groaned. He’d known this was coming, of course. The man who lost the weekly poker game two nights before was tasked with doing one big thing for each of the other six. He couldn’t remember whose idea it was to add this new dimension to the bet. He turned out to be the big loser that night, unable to get a good hand if his life depended on it.

“I guess you assholes know exactly what you want, too, right?”

The six men chuckled, relaxing in their perches. All were young, rich, powerful. All handsome, all fit. Rulers of their own personal universes.

Malcolm was the first to speak up. He seemed to have been waiting for this all evening. His great-granddaddy had made his money in the Texas oil drilling boom, and although he had been living in Manhattan for most of his life, he still spoke with a little bit of a Southern twang. “There’s a Van Gogh painting my father’s been trying to get his hands on for decades. Every time it’s come up for auction, someone else won the bid. It’s now in the home of a certain New York family. Max, I want it stolen.”

“What?” Max asked, one eyebrow cocked. “That’s way above and beyond what we’ve ever done for these challenges.”

“We agreed this one is different. It’s time to step these up.”

“Okay. Let’s suppose I agree to this. Why a Van Gogh?”

“Call it a family thing,” Malcolm answered dismissively.

Max shook his head. It was probably all about pride. Malcolm probably didn’t even like Van Gogh himself.

Chauncey’s jumped in next being his usual animated self. His grandfather was one of the original Hollywood moguls, right up there with the Goldwyns and the Mayers, and the flair for dramatics seemed to have rubbed off on him. “Brianne’s hiding out in the Hamptons right now,” he said. Max noted how the man’s normally pleasant face twisted into a bitter scowl. Brianne was ex number three—or she would be once she finally signed the divorce papers. “She’s dead set against being served, the bitch. So it won’t be easy, but I want you to serve her the papers.”

Jeff spoke up, straightening his glasses as he did. Jeff was the only one of the seven who didn’t come from a wealthy family. He was a self-made tech billionaire. Still, for all his lack of family ties he fit in perfectly with the rest of the group. “I want a woman.” The other six laughed before Jeff joined them, laughing at himself.

“Man, you don’t need any help scoring pussy,” Ted stated.

“I know, I know. This is different.” Jeff turned back to Max. “I want a no-strings-attached, one-night-only experience. She’ll want nothing from me. No love, no money, not even a cuddle. I can ask her for anything—I mean anything. Whips, chains, ball gags, whatever I want.” Max nodded, his lips pursed thoughtfully.

Prentice spoke. “I want my father dead.” The room went silent. They had recently learned that Prentice’s father had been diagnosed with prostate cancer, and was fighting the bitter fight. Sadly, the treatments had not been effective. The man had advanced to stage four. “He’s suffering. They won’t let him die with dignity. He wants to go. I want you to help him.”

Max shook his head, then he gave Prentice a sideways glance. Yes, his friend was dead serious. He had to wonder if there was more to this request. Only a few months ago Prentice had been talking about getting his hands on his dad’s intellectual property consulting firm and company fortune sooner rather than later.

Ted went next. “I think I want to be there for Jeff’s challenge.” They all laughed again, the tension from Prentice’s heavy request broken. His slightly posh British accent, a holdover from his family’s country of origin, made it all the funnier. “You’ll have enough on your plate, Max ole boy. So I’ll let you off the hook, but just be sure I’m there when Jeff gets his hookup.”

“Just admit it, Ted,” Chauncey shouted out through laughter. “We know you. You like to watch. You like the idea of watching a woman be the sub. Just get it out in the open, Ted. It gets you off.”

Ted wasn’t laughing anymore. “That’s your thing, Chauncey, but whatever.” He turned to Max. “Make sure I get to watch.” After that he let it slide, probably from curiosity of hearing what Victor wanted.

Victor had a flair for doing wild and crazy things, so Max was sure his request would be out in left field. His family was undisputedly the wealthiest of them all. Their influence and power went right back to the American robber barons of the mid-nineteenth century. Max could only imagine what this special item might be.

“So what’ll it be, Vic?”

“Six years ago, something was stolen from me. I want it back.”

Max waited, eyebrows raised. “That’s it?”

“Yes.”

“What’s the item?”

Victor ignored the question. “I’m pretty sure I know who stole it, and who requested it be stolen. You have to figure out what it is, though. I want to keep this interesting for you.”

“Let me get this straight. Van Gogh, divorce papers, sex, assisted suicide, voyeurism, and return an undisclosed item. That’s all?” The question was laced with sarcasm, but all six men nodded.

Max took a sip of his whiskey, thoughtful. Then, the idea came to him.

“I’ll make this really interesting,” he said, his mouth curving into a slow smile. “I’ll find one person who can do all six of these tasks for me…or with me, if that’s what you want.”

His mind went back to the news report. He already knew the perfect woman for the job.

“Hire whoever you want, but let’s add some timelines to this,” Chauncey answered with a smile of his own. “You have twelve days to get it all checked off. Six to confirm you’ve found the right person, six to cover all the tasks.”

Max thought this over. “I accept. Now, not that this will be a problem, of course, but what’s if this all goes to shit?”

“Your family gets to cover the costs of this club for the next seven years. One year for each of us,” Prentice suggested. Clearly they’d thought about this already.

“No. Expulsion from the club,” Vic added.

Or maybe they hadn’t.

“Which is it?”

“Both,” Chauncey said with finality, to which the others nodded.

Max thought this over quickly. He was least interested in the request from Prentice, and figured he could talk his friend out of it if he had more time. He added, “One request. Prent’s request to be completed last. I don’t want to risk getting caught before we can finish the rest.” The other six looked at each other, and all nodded.

“Deal.”

“Fair enough,” Max smiled. “I can hardly wait to get started.”