The Parlour (VDB #1) (39 page)

“We all start somewhere, Pascal,” Jon said, his tone amused.

“Hmm.” He was not willing to discuss the merits of his family connections. Jon was not to be trusted any further than a brick would be against a window pane. It did not matter the length of time they had been acquainted, nor the misfortune they had caused when enjoying an evening’s entertainment. They were simply contacts in the same profession. His trust of anything other than Alexander was questionable. Perhaps Ruebin, and occasionally his rose.

“Where did we get to with our discussion the other day?” The man slowly weaved his hand over the girl’s cuffs until he had clipped the links together to hold her wrists behind her back at her ankles.

“I’m not sure I remember. Something about you being bored with business and ready to leave America and its imbeciles behind, I think,” he replied, drawing on the hook above his head and levering it down so it would clasp onto the binding by her ass.

“Mmm. Yes, thoroughly dulled. I believe I was beginning to gauge your interest in taking over.”

“Taking over what?”

“The trade you are about to purchase.”

“Isn’t that Roxanne’s?” he replied, walking to the pulley on the side wall.

“Of course not.”

“You old hound. You’ve been in control of this all along? You kept that well-hidden.” Jon narrowed his eyes at the deceit. The man must have been aware that he yanked the strings. He couldn’t have thought Lucinda was in control.

“I find your pretence of ignorance confounding. Do you believe I have gone mad since our last meeting?” Jon chuckled and stepped back to look at his handiwork as the little ‘it’ swung around in front of them at eye level.

“Could I use your cane?”

The man received the sternest of glares, along with a snort of disgust. No one touched his cane, certainly not his new one. Another chortle of hilarity lingered in the air as the man reached for a knobbly whatnot on the wall beside him instead. “Why would you give it away now? It must be profitable.”

“I am bored of it, and am considering retirement.”

“Retirement? I see Alexander’s in full control then. You’ll be wearing that collar permanently soon. Do you have it on under that cravat?”

“He is not.” It fell from his mouth quicker than he might have liked, but something about Jon uttering the words riled his innards. It belittled him and his empire. Yet the collar sitting in his velvet coat pocket did nothing to alleviate the thought. It only added to the confusion.

“It is nothing to do with him. I am simply bored.”

“Hoping for slippers and a family, my friend?” Jon quipped, pushing the girl’s head so viciously that she span in a quick circle. “Have your depravity laden days been leashed? I did wonder if he’d ever get around to it.” Pascal watched the ‘it’ spinning and recognised the fear in her eyes. She was not, it seemed, quite so ready for torture as he had first assumed.

“I am not leashed, Jon. I’m simply in need of a change, perhaps new interests to defile,” he replied, grasping at the leg of the girl to stop her from spinning. “Perhaps we should continue this in my office,” he continued, crooking his finger at a passing young submissive male and then pointing to the pulley on the wall. The man instantly walked past and began to lower the girl to a safer level.

“I wasn’t finished with that,” Jon said, picking up a drink and slipping his other hand back into his pocket again.

“You would rather play with this innocent than procure more money? It seems you are the one who is searching for slippers, Jon. Should you wish for her to be included in the sale, I could arrange it.”

The man chuckled and started to walk away from him in the direction of the door, so he turned to ensure the little ‘it’ was unstrapped, and nodded at the boy doing it. Why he was so bothered by its wellbeing he could not fathom. Maybe he was going soft. Chocolate brown eyes lingered in his mind for a moment as he reached for the cuffs and manoeuvred them until they slipped out of the ‘its’ cunt. He found himself smiling at them. Not the ‘its’ of course, Elizabeth’s. They blinked at him gently, just as they had done the first time he touched her in his office. The first time he was given permission to engage with her. Warm, inviting, kind. Decent. And, unfortunately, not the least bit dull. Hmm. He chuckled and turned to look at his club full of the indecent instead. His rose had a lot to answer for.

“Monsieur?”

He twisted a little to find ‘it’ now gazing up at him as she rebalanced herself and ran her hands through her mass of dark curls. “Merci, monsieur.” Hmm.

He tapped her on the head and waved his hand towards the mass of bodies practising their menage positions. She would be managed accordingly over there. She scuttled in their direction and was immediately welcomed into the fray with open arms.

Picking up his drink, he meandered across the space towards the exit. It seemed his evening’s entertainment was over for now, but he supposed if he could get the slavery trade off his books and onto someone else’s, it would be a step closer to a peace of some sort. And his rose would never need to find out. Perhaps he would go back to Italy when this was done. He longed for the European verve. Their sarcasm. Their darkness. It was home. His home. Not England. However, England was Alexander’s home. And Lilah’s. That thought entered into his disturbed mind faster than he would have liked. Why was she always in there, meddling around with his sanity?

Opening the office door, he found Jon waiting on the sofa with a pack of cards already dealt out.

“You must think me insane.” He laughed, pulling his jacket from his shoulders and laying it over the back of a chair while reaching for the phone. “You’re a double-dealer and we both know it. Deal them again.” He rang through for some coffee and downed his drink. Dull indeed, but alcohol and numbers did not mix well. He walked over to the safe and drew out the stick full of protected data, throwing it into the middle of the table near the cards.

“Everything you might need will be on that memory stick. Dates, contacts, etc. No figures. They are all in Rome, and I will not release them until the deal is complete.”

“You expect me to purchase something without seeing its worth?”

“I expect you to remember how much you are about to give me for your purchase of this current batch, and then multiply that by somewhere close to twenty others. You should also then multiply that by quarterly intakes. Across five continents. That should give you an appropriate figure to comprehend.”

The whistle that rang through the air was high enough that his dogs could have heard it from England. He missed his dogs. His beloveds were loyal to a fault. Apart from Azaezel, who had a penchant for redheads encased in diamonds, it seemed. Traitor.

“That’s a lot of money, Pascal. What makes you think I could afford such hedonism?” Jon said, re-dealing the cards and watching the maid enter with coffee.

“It is your choice. I will simply disband it if you do not wish for it. The contacts will be buried or dispensed with, the trade stopped, and the last of the money left to mount in my accounts,” he replied, picking up his hand and leaning back into the chair. “I do not need it anymore. It is up to you whether you take it from me or not.”

“How old are they?”

“All of legal consent.”

“Nothing younger?”

“I am not a paedophile, nor do I trade in such abominable kinks.”

“Shame. It’s profitable. Maybe I could add it on.”

“You can do as you wish once the deal is completed.”

“And Roxanne will be alright with this?”

“She is not relevant. I told you, it is not hers to trade.”

“I doubt she thinks so,” he replied, chuckling. “I know she’s your wife. Doesn’t that mean she owns half of everything?”

Pascal’s head shot up far too quickly, giving away his surprise. How did he know such a thing? No one knew apart from Alexander and Elizabeth, unless he had been told by Lucinda herself, and why would she?
“Don’t looked so shocked. She’s quite the talker when you have her pinned correctly. You didn’t train her well enough. You only have yourself to blame.”

Anger flared across him. How dare the man question his abilities? And why the hell was he pinning her at all? Not that it bothered him, only that Lucinda hadn’t submitted to anyone but him in four years, and only on occasion. That was the very reason he had trusted her with all the information she possessed. He sneered at the man as he chuckled and took another card. “You have been foolish, Pascal. That woman has too much of you shut up in her little office for me to be able to ignore.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“No, not at the moment.”

Quiet descended as he tried to fathom what the hell Jon was up to while also trying to remain unfazed in appearance. Why would he even mention this if he didn’t intend to do something with the information? He watched the commanding hands shuffling and transferring his cards around and picked up his coffee to do something with his own.

“If I did do this, my wife wouldn’t be pleased.”

“Your wife is never pleased. She is a maudlin old hag. I am astounded you have remained with her all these years.”

“She is the mother of my children,” he replied quietly, as if that was reason enough. He supposed it was to some degree. Not that he would know. “Children change everything. Things become less about liking someone, and more about a common bond of care. Something you would have little knowledge of, it appears.”

“What are you inferring?”

“Nothing.”

He narrowed his eyes at the man and sipped at his coffee. Jon was up to something. He threw his straight flush of hearts on the table and felt the need to get up and pace about. That was most definitely not the correct thing to do, so he remained still instead. “You seem nervous, boy.”

Pascal instantly snarled at the term and reminded himself of the man in front of him, who, it seemed, was beginning to throw his weight around. Why was still unknown.

“What do you want, Jon?”

“Nothing. I thought we were discussing business?”

“Why are you discussing my wife then?”

“I’m not. It was just a passing comment. You’re the one discussing your wife. Why didn’t you tell me you were married?”

“I was not inclined to tell anyone.”

“She’s quite the squealer, isn’t she?”

“I don’t see how that’s relevant to anything we’re discussing.”

“It is if she’s involved. You’re asking me to buy something in which she’s involved. Maybe I should just ask her to give it to me instead. She is under my control now. Why should I have to purchase anything?” Pascal laughed out loud. Lucinda was anything but bought and paid for by one man.

“Jon, Roxanne is one of the highest paid Dommes in the country. She is under no one’s control. Least of all yours. If anyone’s, she is still mine.”

“Don’t be more foolish than you already appear. You gave your right to her away the instant you agreed to Alexander’s terms. Why did you do that? Stupid boy. You sit there in your suits and your glory, but you’ve given it all away, Pascal. I thought better of you and your decisions. He owns you now. Do you even have the right to sell this from beneath him?”

Is that what the world thought of him now because of the scene in Berlin? The thought near scared the life out of him. Jon was right. Did he have the right to sell this anymore? Yes. Fucking degenerate coming in here and trying to cause trouble. The man’s very being suddenly disgusted him. He stood and stalked around the other side to lean over him.

“He does not own me,” he spat in reply, suddenly furious with the connotation regardless of the love he felt. “There is no official collaring.” And there certainly wasn’t now that he had made the man release him for Elizabeth’s sake. “This is my business, my empire, and I will not have you coming in here and threatening me. You will leave, instantly.”

The man didn’t move. He simply sat there smiling and still looking over his cards. “I have a straight flush, Jon. Get out. You have lost.” Slowly, the man rose to his full height and glanced at the discarded cards on the table, still with his smile in place and an ever growing look of superiority, which was concerning.

“What happens if I take your six of hearts away?”

“What?” The man reached down and drew the card from the table as he stood to face him calmly.

“The six. What happens if I take it from you?” He didn’t reply. He had no clue what the man was suggesting or inferring, so he simply stood his ground and formed the most uninterested gaze he could muster. “Pretty things, these hearts. Especially the little ones. They have a certain innocence to them that the higher ranking cards fail to exude.”

Exasperated with riddles that made no sense at all, Pascal turned and walked to the door to open the fucking thing. Either the man would walk out himself, or he might have to throw him out. At least he’d taken his jacket off for the war that would ensue.

“Leave. I am bored of your games.”

Jon chuckled again and wandered towards him. “That is a problem. You see, I am not bored of my games, and you have just given me a fine one to play. Does she still mean enough to you? Enough that you would defy your precious Alexander? She doesn’t seem to think so. I’m not sure yet. Maybe you would for the right reason, hmm?” he said, weaving his way past and out into the hallway. “Oh, I’ll ask her what she thinks about me taking over, shall I? As you’re bored of it all.”