Chapter 230

I head into my office and sit down with a heavy sigh and weird mood, spying the bag of cat treats that Jackson has left for me here. I smile involuntarily, a little warm pick me up to my internal sombre heaviness. He brought them from home because his wife’s kittens don’t like them and I swipe them up to put in my desk for later. It gives me a reason to go visit the little fleabag before bed and check in on him. It’s sad to admit but Feral’s visits have become the highlight of my day. Nurturing some poor little beast back to health and seeing him improve daily, gives me some sense of self-worth.

Jackson has taken a shine to Feral too and made him a little shelter in the far corner of the lot to sleep in when it’s raining. He utilised some old plastic tubs and cut a doorway in the side of one he upturned. It’s all cosy and watertight with the lid as a removable base we can clean. Filled with old rags and a pillow, Feral at least has somewhere weather resistant and comfy to sleep at night, and we have seen him use it.

I’m supposed to make Jackson shadow me where ever I go but what Alexi doesn’t see, he doesn’t know about, and I’m too pissed at him to obey his ‘Jackson will shadow your every move’ bullshit this week.

I take him when I leave the club, or when I am downstairs he tends to follow me at a distance, but never ventures up here unless I ask him to, and when I feed Feral he usually just hangs around in the hall in case I need him. Watches me on the internal door camera so I can have a little me time; Which I have needed a lot of lately while working daily in this building that’s constantly full of people.

I like Jackson, he reminds me of Mico, only quieter and softer. He’s a huge man, much bigger than his cousins in build and weight. Broad, a little tubby around the midriff, but he has a nice face, definitely that Carrero bone structure, and he smiles often. He’s a soft touch with his cats and he mentions Susan, his wife, frequently. It’s a wonder he works in this lifestyle at all as I wouldn’t peg him for a Mafia henchman.

Carrero men are complex and despite this whole Gangster world and bad things they do, some of them are definitely more human than Alexi is. I don’t mind my escort, he’s security when I need it and gives me a feeling of safety when I go anywhere. Jackson gives me a sense of confidence that I won’t ever be attacked in this place again—My own personal guardian angel … even if it is compliments of Dickhead Alexi.

I throw aside all the papers that arsehole needs to sign and approve and sulk a little, listless and staring aimlessly at the room spreading out in front of me. It’s been eerily quiet and empty for days; the whole building has felt that way, and I am trying to ignore the fact it’s been for as long as Satan has been absent. I hate that even though I get to run this club, he still has to co-sign everything of importance. I should have that kind of responsibility as I am the one doing everything here, and it just infuriates me that he still has to have some level of control, even from afar.

Wanker!

The painters are done, the electrics done, although I have a lift engineer scheduled next week as the one nearest Lucie’s office keeps making a weird clunking noise every so often and I want it checked out. The bar is ready; the marble was replaced with a faux granite worktop while our expensive surface is being restored in a shop in Seattle. It annoys me that it has a cheap temporary fix but in the dim lighting you don’t notice it. Club is clean, tweaked, refinished in my style and restocked with a fresh guest list for tonight with new entertainment.

I have a strip show planned on the centre stage down there, aside from the escorts, and I’ve paid two pole dancers to do acrobatic performances throughout the night. Jackson oversaw the carpenters fitting our new floor to ceiling poles on the stage, and I have a week of varied sexy related acts booked for our opening weekend. My aim is to entertain them as much as satisfying their pleasures.

Champagne and food are all ready to be served tonight as a sort of celebratory boom. I have servers in black and white uniforms to classily stand out, and they are under orders to make this a glam party evening, rather than the mundane sex and drugs they had for the last four months. Alexi’s club was at its peak when the nights were fun and lively, and they felt like they were paying to come to a high class after party, not just some dim smelly club to get laid. Joanne had no clue how this place worked and she focused on turning it into a brothel.

She has no concept of the layers to what this place does. A lot of the men never even venture to the sex rooms at all and deals and connections are made by hobnobbing shoulder to shoulder, getting drunk with influential people in a safe space, and snorting their brain cells away on coke. Nothing they do here goes beyond these walls and our armed, very obvious security make them feel like they can relax and kick back. They are taken care of on every level and it is part of what they pay for—Trusting the Carrero name to look after them.

The girls are a perk, not the focus. The drugs and booze are lubricators for deals and underhand agreements. Alexi’s contacts list quadrupled after his first month of having this place open, and she really had no vision at all. Take away the glamour, the gold star treatment of your guests and the attention to all the little luxurious details and you are left with a whore house that makes you pay through the nose for stale services. That’s not what we built—it’s classy even if its foundations are sordid.

I don’t get why Alexi just walked away from it for months. I don’t believe for a minute he was really looking for me and it’s his sarcastic way of just being a prick. Highlighting the fact, he did the exact opposite of look for me. I know how his mind works and if he wanted to find me he would have. I was close enough and still in his domain.

I don’t buy that bullshit for even a second.

I push it all out of my head, restless and nervy because tonight is a huge deal for me, and I feel like I have to prove my worth all over again. Regain my crown more so, now that he and I are not exactly getting on anymore.

I hate to admit that it’s getting to me more than it should and a brewing storm of anger circles every time I think of how easily he has just dismissed me once again. Cut me off while he sulks and it bites like a son of a bitch. I have more worth than that. I am not one of his stupid toys or vague employees. I own half this god damn business now. I signed the papers he had sent to the apartment weeks ago.

He needs to stop treating me like a disposable object!

Getting up, completely frustrated and unable to sit at peace, I decide to head back downstairs to expel my excess energy. Even though I just got up here. I just need to check on last-minute details to be sure it’s all in order, that staff is coming in as scheduled and the bar is sparkling and ready. I’m antsy with swirling nerves, fidgeting like crazy and having to blow out long heavy breaths every few minutes to regulate my building anxiety. I know tonight will go to plan; I have to have a little faith in my abilities. Alexi did … he brought me back for this purpose.