Chapter 13 The Club

Nicholas

Leaving Sinclair's delectable body was hard. They had indulged in his private office the rest of the afternoon until it was time to go.

He had a very important meeting with his club before dinner. It had pained him almost physically to be away from her but he couldn't put off the duke's summons. They would not be dining together as well. Nicholas promised himself he would ask her on a date for the following evening.

His housekeeper was more than happy to chaperon his sweet. He had given Mrs. Dee strict instruction to help Sinclair shop online for all the things she might need. Though he already had plans to hire her a personal shopper, which they would be needing before they would retire to his estate for the summer.

Those suggestions brought another mild argument between the two of them, nevertheless, in the end, he won despite her protests. Knowing he had been winning concessions left and right, against his better judgment, he promised he would meet her at the diner later in the evening so she could resign properly and would not be leaving the old lady owner until a capable waitress was hired for her replacement. Sinclair working at such an hour irked him, her working at all grated on his nerves, the only consolation was he would be with her until the end of her shift and they would be going home to his house.

-Our house.- He corrected himself.

The parking area of the elegant, well-preserved Edwardian manor showcased familiar exclusive sports cars. Owned by his peers. Only five of them had entry to their very exclusive gentleman's club. All of them were members of the United Kingdom's elite aristocracy; had served as officers for the British Army. After five tours, in the middle east and Afghanistan, part of the intelligence unit, they dismantled their commission and went home to their motherland, accepting their fate and position in the society. Having multiple degrees at the prestigious University of Cambridge, Eton's golden group, it was not hard for them to blend in once more.

However, it was a facade. Deep inside, they were not the same easy-going lads the society had known. Fighting terrorists had changed them a lot. Molded them to be hardened individuals. They don't trust easily. They had no patience for fools and they hated loud noises. Especially one's that could trigger unpleasant memories of bombs and airstrikes.

Offering a solution, Lucien Sylvestre, Earl of Mountford, had suggested they form a very exclusive club of their own. Not just any gentleman's club, one with a purpose. Too aware of how fucked up England had become, the mafias and gangs, brothels, underground gamblings, and a nightlife full of terrors, he and his peers had decided to be the protectors of their people who had no one they could rely upon. That was the reason they roam the city at night, to rescue and protect those who had lost faith in humanity. Nicholas and the lords, whom he has the privilege to call his friends, were their only hope.

"Good evening, my lord." Lucien's esteemed butler inclined his head respectfully.

Viscount Redington surrendered his trenchcoat to the man. "Are they here, Hennessey?"

"Almost, my lord. The duke is on his way." -Not all.- Trust Alastair to be late for his meeting. Though he still had ten minutes to spare.

Suppressing the urge to comment, Nicolas nodded and strolled to the library. He found his friends enjoying a glass of a fifty-year-old Scotch whisky. Their conversation stopped and they raised their glasses to him in a salute. He smirked. No used guessing what their topic was before he came in.

Eric MacGregor, Baron Huntley, got up and poured him his choice of poison.

"Huntley," Nicholas murmured his thanks and occupied one of the comfortable leather seats in the room. His peers followed his every movement, waiting. He sighed deeply. "You can all meet her tonight." He raised his hand to halt their celebratory drinks. "Don't overwhelm her. She's a bit skittish."

"Afraid your future Viscountess will change her mind?" Jolly old Jared Bentley, Marquis of Sandringham, the golden boy, grinned cheekily and wiggled his eyebrows.

Nicholas narrowed his eyes in warning, he wouldn't take the bait. He was in a very good mood. Sipping his whisky, his face impassive, he thought of an appropriate answer but didn't get the chance to retaliate.

"Careful, Sandringham. We wouldn't want your Barchetta's navigation system to fail, do we?" Alastair Windsor, Duke of Cerdic, murmured lazily from the doorway. Nicholas smirked and raised his glass in welcome to the latecomer.

"Fuck, no! I take it back, Redington." The marquis responded in horror. Aside from being a nobleman, a businessman, and a Doctor of Education, Nicholas had other talents, courtesy of being part of the intelligence unit in the army for half a decade.

"I say." The Earl of Mountford seconded from behind his black mahogany desk. "Now, that we are all here," he waited until the duke occupied his usual corner. "tell us why you called for an urgent meeting, Cerdic?" The Earl, more than anyone of them had been roaming the city every night, trying to find his lost love. He had been doing it for more than two years now. During the daytime, he had his people doing the searching for him. Not to mention, his peers' men were also at his disposal.

"According to my sources, we have a new breed of human traffickers." Though the duke's face showed no emotion, from his unusual colored eyes, hardening with anger, they could see how the information had bothered him a lot. They were on the same page. "They are kidnapping children from the age of six to fifteen and selling them to the sex cages and pedophiles." Everyone stiffened from his announcement. Shit! Nicholas's blood boiled.

"When I get my hands on those motherfuckers," gone was Sandringham's jolly nature, replaced by a soulless assassin. His chiseled jaw was ticking and he got up from his chair to pace the carpeted floor. Used to his explosive rage, they paid him no mind and let him vent his anger.

"But that is not all," Huntley observed.

The duke nodded. "The founders are members of the peerage." Fuck!

"We had no idea who they are and we need to dig deeper, am I right?" Mountford murmured, already jotting down notes on his tablet. They were most likely be stepping on a lot of toes but they didn't care one bit. Their group was powerful and they could bring any assholes down. Aristocracy or not. Even the royal family owed them.

"I want to start asking questions at the slums and hack police records to check on recent kidnappings. Let's see what I can do with getting access to street cameras around the city." Nicholas murmured. His mind was in overdrive. Maybe he should send Sinclair to his estate right after her graduation and after he announced their engagement to the Gazette. Just to be safe while he was not with her, he'd assign bodyguards for her. "I will need our best guards for Sinclair." He addressed Cerdic.

"Of course. I will send four from our unit tomorrow." The duke assured him. "In the meantime, we should visit Lucifer tonight. I had arranged a meeting at 9 PM."

The five lords had entry everywhere, including the dens of the prominent mafias around the world, Lucifer being one of the lesser evils in the society, who despised prostitution and child trafficking with a passion. The other underground leader was the tzar, a mafia king so fucking powerful and crazy they had to tread carefully when they met him during one of their missions. Too bad he was in the USA and out of their reach. His help and sources would have been useful.

"Let's go then. We still have to meet Redington's beau later tonight." Sandringham gulped his drink and winked at the Viscount. -Bipolar bastard.- Nicholas curbed the urge to roll his eyes from his friend's ever-changing mood.

"No provoking Lucifer's men, Sandringham. Remember what happened last time." The duke warned, though his lips twitched.

"Spoilsport. Admit it. It was fun while it lasted." The marquis answered with a deep laugh. The other lords growled. It was a fucking mess. "I make no promises, duke."

"Fucking asshole. I'll make sure to bring my medical bag with me." Huntley answered and also exited the library, trying to catch up with the duke and marquis.

"This will be a fucking long night, Redington." Mountford surmised mockingly.

"I daresay," Nicholas answered. His only highlight was he was going home with Sinclair later and he would have her in his arms once more and every night from now on.

***

Nicholas and his fellow lords had graced the underbelly of London a lot of times. It comes with the territory, an actuality before inheriting their titles. Their last year in Eton was spent acquainting with the leaders they would be rubbing shoulders with. After which, they were left to decide who they could trust. Lucifer, United Kingdom's mafia leader was at the top of their list. He was a man of his word and he helped protect the city from perverts and rapists.

The heavily tattooed leader had invited them to one of his exclusive clubs and they were now making their way to the spacious VIP room where it was fairly quiet than the ground floor booming with the latest music. However, the exclusive room has soft music playing and half-dressed women dancing provocatively on polls, thus, enticing the men to look at them and picked them for the night.

The lords paid them no mind, they were here for information. Moreover, the next woman they wanted in their beds would be their wives. Nicholas was the first lucky fellow in their group who found one.

"Lucifer," Cerdic inclined his head in mutual respect.

The mafia leader got up, almost dropping the woman perched on his lap, he sent her away with a wave of his hand, shook the duke's hand, and then each of the influential young lords gracing his nightclub.

Women in bikinis, giggling in excitement, the usual waitresses in all of Lucifer's clubs served them drinks, lingered, and waited for an invitation to entertain the group of powerful and sexy men. A manicured hand caressed Nicholas's shoulders and leaned down to whisper in his ear, "want some company, babe? I'm free for the night." Her suggestive tone and heavy perfume almost made him gag. He looked up and frowned in disgust.

"No." He seethed. All other women paled in comparison to his sweetheart. "And remove your hands. Now."

"Leave us," Lucifer commanded. The dancers and waitresses scurried from the room. "My apologies, Redington. I know you are about to be engaged to Ms. Yuan." No surprise there. The man knew everything there was to know in the city especially his friends' affairs.

Nicholas nodded his head. Cradling his whisky, he waited for the duke to open the topic of human trafficking in London.

When the conversation resumed, they realized important aspects. They were only scratching the surface. The gang was very careful and not a hint of their titles associated with their lucrative business. Lucifer had thrown in names, galling that he was not 100% sure yet and they needed to dig deeper and rubbed shoulders with nobility which he immediately pointed out to the duke.

The lords despised attending dinner parties and balls. This time seemed they were obligated to do so and endure the nonsense gatherings. As spies.

Mamas and their snooty daughters will swarm his fellow lords like bees. Nicholas grimaced from his unpleasant thoughts. They had dodged the bullet for years. Tomorrow night, they will be entering the lionesses' dens.

-At least I have Sinclair as my shield.-

Good luck to his peers was his only thought.

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