Sins of a Bad Boy (The Original Bad Boys Book 1) (3 page)

CHAPTER 4

“Let’s call it
Sins
,” Charles suggested to William as they stepped out of the full gaming club, going toward the car.

It was days after the Dunns’ party, and William had been persistently thinking about a certain lady with a mixture of rage and an undecipherable feeling he didn’t want to consider.

The day after the party, William had heard that Jeremy was caught leaving the premises with the wallet and that there was a fight between Jeremy and the gentleman who was robbed. However, no police were involved. Law enforcement had no command of the upper class – the upper class held all the power. These aristocrats were judge, jury, and executioner, preferring to take matters into their own hands. And William was becoming part of that supremacy; he understood now how easy it was to have influence over everyone when you had money.

William was glad he wasn’t blamed for the theft, and as much as he wanted to find out more about Ivy Ravensdale, the past few days had been about William instructing and training the women and men for the new sex club. He’d also hired a manager for the club – a muscular, long-haired twenty-six year old Italian named Silk DeMarco, who always wore his hair in a bun and had a long scruffy beard. He’d taken over the training on days when William had other priorities, such as a fight. Training involved educating the women and men about seduction and the various forms of sexual pleasure they were required to master,
not
actually having sex with them. No, they were being trained by William and Silk, and the employees practiced on each other.

The training had, however, managed to enhance William’s sexual drive. But he didn’t want to get involved with any employee – this was also one of Charles’s strict rules – and he had been living as a monk because of his busy schedule anyway.

Today was the day before the opening of the new club, and they didn’t have any liquor yet, which meant they were now going to use force to get their way.

“I like that name,” William answered, finding it an appropriate name for their new club.

“
Sins
it is then.” They got into the vehicle, and Charles drove them through the desolate streets to their destination.

***

Upon entering the shady bar called ‘Hookers’, they marched to the office of the man they needed to chat with, and William banged open the doors, which Charles closed behind them.

An overweight, black-haired American lurched up from behind his desk as William went to him, pushing him down into his seat with a palm bracing his neck.

“Mr. Markson, we need to talk,” William said.

In a world where the toughest survive, William was used to exercising power with violence. This was what he thrived on.

Charles, who was standing in front of the desk wearing a bored expression and leaning on his cane, continued, “We had a deal, and you didn’t come through.” Then he twisted the head of his cane and slid out the sabre, pointing the sharp end at Markson’s chest.

Markson tried to wrench back from William’s hold, so William dug his fingers harder into his neck.

“Ahhh! Tell William to back off,” Markson rasped.

“No,” Charles answered evenly, sabre in place but not piercing the man’s skin. “Where’s the liquor you promised me?”

Charles and William didn’t have a liquor license for the sex club, which was an illegal establishment just like the fight club. Even the gaming club’s legal liquor license didn’t get them enough alcohol for all their customers. They always had to buy spirits on the black market because the Anti-Saloon League was trying to keep establishments from selling liquor, and the state was decreasing the amount of alcohol that was allowed to be imported every month.

Now, they needed a great deal of expensive whiskey and champagne for the opening of Sins. Only, the risk with buying on the black market was that they had to deal with a lot of dodgy men and untrustworthy partners, such as Markson.

“It’s been difficult, Charles. I was just about to contact you.”

Charles and William’s gazes clashed for a second, and then William grabbed Markson’s hair, tugging it back and stretching his neck as Charles skimmed his sabre up to his throat.

“Don’t lie to us! It’s the night before the opening. When were you supposedly going to contact us? You received a batch of liquor last week. Where is it?” William demanded to know.

Markson’s heavy breaths came more sporadic, but he kept quiet, which earned him a blow to his nose, blood streaming down his lips and chin as William released his hair.

Charles let the tip of his sword rest on the desk and stared off into the distance, acting utterly bored. “William isn’t a patient man, so I’d answer if I were you. Where is my alcohol?”

Markson grimaced from the pain. “I had to use it for my own bar.”

“Why?” William cracked his knuckles, still standing next to Markson’s chair.

“Because it’s becoming more difficult to get whiskey. The government is all over us distributors – especially the black market distributors. I was going to replenish your liquor with a batch of mine. But my batch never came through.”

“This is a problem for me, Markson,” Charles stated. “I still need it. Tonight.”

Markson was about to protest when William grabbed his collar and hauled him up, slamming him against the wall. “Don’t you dare give us any excuses. What can you get us right now?”

“I-I don’t know,” he stammered, lying to them.

William’s fist connected with Markson’s mouth. “How much do you have in your bar?”

Markson spit out blood. “Maybe...five hundred bottles.”

“Well, those five hundred are ours as of now. And since the batch we paid for should’ve contained a thousand bottles, you owe us half of our money back. I want it within a week or I’ll be visiting you again. And next time, I won’t be so nice.” William pulled Markson forward slightly and knocked him back once more before releasing him.

Charles opened the door and gestured for Markson to accompany him and William. “Come with us and instruct your men to load a few of the bottles into my car.”

With a grunt, Markson trailed behind William and Charles to do as ordered.

***

Back at the gaming club, there was more trouble awaiting Charles and William.

William and the bartender, Vince, carried the boxes of alcohol into the club though the mundane looking entrance hall. The club was housed in a nondescript building in the Loop area of Chicago. The entryway was plain and simple, one of a simple American apartment with a long corridor that ended at a large set of double doors. Behind those doors was a huge hall, the gaming club.

The space consisted of one hall with a luxurious Oriental carpet and dim, yellow lamps covering every inch of the fourteen-foot-high ceiling. Tables were scattered about the room where people were gambling, and the center had a living room set-up with twelve black sofas and gilded chess boards. On the right was the bar, which was adorned with shelves that climbed the wall and were lined with bottles of liquor, and a row of barstools were located in front of the bar counter.

The place was packed tonight, and as William passed the billiard table, he noticed a large group of people surrounding the hold ‘em poker table. He made his way to the crowd just in time to witness a showdown between two men. One, he recognized as Alfred Ravensdale, Ivy’s father and a regular gamer, but he didn’t know the other man. Alfred had just lost the pot. A wave of silent shock went through the crowd, and everyone was inspecting Alfred’s pale face.

“How much was in the pot?” William asked the dealer.

“He bet his townhouse, sir,” he answered as he collected the cards and started to shuffle.

This wasn’t the first time Alfred had lost a valuable asset because he didn’t know when to fold – he was addicted to poker.

Charles came up behind William and said, “Alfred’s already in major debt with us. This is only increasing his dues. Who let him in?”

“I don’t know. I just came over to check as well. We need to contain his mess or else he’ll never be able to pay us back. And we need to collect as much cash as possible from him right now. Have one of the bodyguards ensure he doesn’t leave the club. We’ll discuss this in your office later, when the club has quieted down; we don’t need any witnesses,” William suggested and Charles nodded.

Next, William headed toward the
vingt et un
table, which was on the other side of the room, and he was completely surprised to find an auburn curled beauty there. For a second, his gaze snapped back to the other side of the hall, toward Alfred. He couldn’t believe Alfred Ravensdale brought his own daughter to the club. While William and Charles never denied any woman access, it rarely happened that an aristocratic lady stepped inside.

Ivy, wearing a baggy mauve ankle-length dress that didn’t complement her figure, was perched on a stool, playing blackjack with three other men. As always, she wore her hair down.

Even though William should’ve been furious that she had the audacity to come into his club, that was the furthest thing from his mind. He couldn’t take his eyes off her, and he wasn’t the only one. The other players were surreptitiously glancing at her with a glint of sexual interest. For the third time, this woman had completely stunned him, with both her actions and her demeanor. And tonight, she didn’t appear as young as she did before.

William found himself striding toward Ivy. Standing directly behind her, he braced both hands on the table, caging her in, and spoke in a low voice, close to her ear. “Good evening, Ivy.”

She froze, then turned her head with infinite slowness since she was trapped between his arms. Her back pressed against his chest, and her wide round eyes betrayed her shock.

It entered William’s mind that she might’ve been unaware that he was one of the owners of the club. 

“M...Mr. Kade,” she sputtered, eyes still huge. “What a coincidence. What are you doing here?”

So, she evidently didn’t know William owned this club. Good. This meant she was now off balance, and William decided not to confront her about her little stunt with the wallet, but to toy with her. Just like she’d done with him at the Dunn party. 

The three other men at the table and the dealer observed their exchange with amusement. 

“Finish this game,” William said to the players and dealer, continuing to keep Ivy caged in and dipping his head to speak into her ear. “Then Ivy and I will play alone.” 

“Yes, sir.” The dealer nodded.

Ivy was immovable in his arms, remaining stoic, but he could see her chest heaving with irregular breaths. And William found an unholy delight in tormenting her like this. In pushing this lady’s boundaries.

They were on his territory now. Ivy had entered the lion’s den.

As William instructed, the game was completed with the dealer winning, and the other men scampered away.

Then William lowered his mouth to her ear again. “It’s not a coincidence at all, Ivy. I own this club.”

He could’ve sworn that she cursed quietly under her breath. This lady had a few unladylike habits, which seemed to increase his interest in her by the minute. 

And while he wanted to continue to make Ivy feel trapped between his arms, he moved to sit very close next to her and pulled his billfold from his pocket, peeling off a couple of notes and throwing twenty dollars into the betting box.

Ivy eyed his bet – clearly wondering whether or not she should bet that huge an amount – and matched it with her own bill. Usually, blackjack was only played with coins in his club, but he wanted to test Ivy, to see how far she’d go before giving up.

“Deal,” he ordered, and the dealer shot into action. 

Ivy received a nine and a five. 

William had an ace and an eight.

The dealer’s cards consisted of a six and a king.

William angled his body slightly toward Ivy and reached for her leg under the table, boldly resting his palm on her thigh.

She arched a brow, and one of her hands also slid under the table, mirroring his action. “Hit me,” she told the dealer, obviously hoping she wouldn’t get a card higher than seven because then she would lose, reaching over twenty-one.

Her hand was burning through his trousers, and in reaction, he inched his higher on her thigh. 

She did the same, stopping close to his crotch.

They were definitely not just playing blackjack but were playing each other. William leaned in toward her face, checking the room with a quick glance and verifying that they were hidden in the corner by the many regulars walking around. And because he couldn’t refuse her pull, he curled his hand on her thigh, letting his fingers touch between her legs – she inhaled sharply.

He kept provoking her, tracing the thumb of his other hand over her lush lower lip, then dipping inside briefly. “If you don’t stop caressing me, then I’m going to take what you’ve been silently offering me since we met.” He removed his thumb and licked it, tasting her, as a flush of scarlet crept up her throat.