Go All In (A Go Novel Book 4)

by Scarlett Finn

  Judging from the spacing and her peek at where the back wall would be, she’d guess there were ten on the right wall and five on the right. That would mean there were five at the back given Ophelia had said there were twenty rooms off the main floor.

  “Darlings! You found us!”

  Ophelia’s voice vibrated through the room. It took Harlow a minute to locate her; she was coming from the other side of the walled-off area.

  Lydia was with their hostess. The four women reached the central booth at the same time. Nibbles were laid out on the table with flutes of champagne ready for them too. Ophelia had catered this meeting like it was some sort of happy social event.

  “Hello, Harlow,” Lydia said. The quiver in the words made it obvious that the woman was still wary of her.

  “I don’t think you know each other,” Ophelia said to Lydia and looked at Anwen. After the way things had gone at the last meeting, Harlow didn’t expect to feel Ophelia put an arm around her waist. Stepping out of the embrace, Harlow was too aware of Brash behind her to relax. She didn’t like feeling closed in. Ophelia didn’t acknowledge the retreat. “Lydia, this is Anwen. She was engaged to my brother before his demise.”

  Before was a loose term. Anwen hadn’t been involved with Jarvis Hagan immediately before his death. Lydia didn’t ask questions, which was probably wise on her part. Ophelia didn’t appreciate being questioned.

  “What are we doing here, Ophe?” Harlow asked. “And why is it that the only penis allowed to be present is commanded by you?”

  Tipping her chin toward her shoulder, Harlow made it clear she was referring to Brash. Ophelia laughed and waved her henchman away. That was exactly what Harlow had been aiming for. Getting him out of the room subtracted one threat from her periphery.

  “I don’t think Ryske would appreciate the implication that his penis can be commanded,” Ophelia said. “That is who you would choose to be here, isn’t it?”

  “He is not the only penis I know,” Harlow said.

  “I’m sure he’ll be sorry to hear that,” Ophelia said and stepped back to open her arms, presenting the room. “What do you think? This is our kingdom.”

  “Ophelia was showing me around,” Lydia said. “It has all sorts of… things.”

  “Yes,” Ophelia said, putting an arm around the shorter Lydia’s shoulders. “We can try out any of the toys and games you like the look of later. I want to give all of you a full tour. Once we’re finished with that, we can sit down and talk… What do we think?”

  Harlow nodded once and presumed that Anwen gave the same kind of permission. Ophelia whirled around and began to glide around the room, giving the sales speech.

  The main floor was where the men could gamble and drink. The rooms were all decorated in a different way and given different names. Some were basic, just a bed and a sink. Others contained devices and apparatus that Harlow could only begin to guess about. She didn’t ask questions and maintained the demeanor of being unimpressed throughout the tour. Each room had access to a restroom and a panic button, as Ryske had requested.

  One room was specifically designed for dispensing Pothos. Although it did contain a bed, a curtain could be pulled across the full width of the room to conceal it. The half of the room in front of the curtain had a seating area, coffee table, and television. It offered the dispenser a comfortable place to wait between customers.

  On the upper floor, Ophelia spoke of building a playground for women as men had had their day for too long. The décor upstairs was a little brighter. There was a stage too. Everything was just a little more delicate. The rooms upstairs hadn’t been decorated or equipped yet, though Ophelia implied she wanted them all to have a hand in developing the strategy.

  For her, this operation was ever-expansive. She had all sorts of plans. One about a full BDSM dungeon in the basement. Another for a romantic separate space above where couples could enjoy a more typical, vanilla experience.

  This wasn’t just a straight forward way to make money. Ophelia spoke with a real passion and exuded joy over what she’d accomplished. Harlow thought maybe her optimism was premature. Ophelia had sold off much of her brother’s business to fund it. As of yet, there was no consistent revenue stream. The hostess seemed to have forgotten that its future depended on an illegal operation.

  “Where do people park?” Harlow asked as they were returning to the central booth on the main floor. “People don’t want their license plates on show in a place they’re not proud of being. And, if there’s a gathering of cars, especially of city officials or prominent people, someone might ask questions.”

  “Oh, so practical,” Ophelia asked, gesturing them into the booth. It was a curved C-shape, so Harlow let Lydia and Anwen slide in first before going in last, ensuring she had an out if she needed it. “We offer a chauffeur service. Our drivers will pick up clients anywhere and bring them here and then return them home at the end of the evening.” Which lessened the chances of DUIs. Smart. “But, we do have a private parking level for those who choose to bring their own vehicle. Entry is by password only. If someone doesn’t have the password, they don’t get in. If we suspect anyone has shared the password, they will be denied entry forever more.”

  The women all settled in their seats. Ophelia began to hand out the champagne. “If you think we’re going to drink that, you’re insane,” Harlow said, taking Anwen’s glass from her and putting it aside before she could drink anything.

  Lydia had been about to drink, but her eyes crossed to the glass on her lips and she put it back down.

  Wearing a look of condescending sympathy, Ophelia folded her hands on the table. “I remember a time when you weren’t like this, Harlow… Do you remember the night we met? The night you were on that date with Jarvis?”

  “It wasn’t a date,” Harlow said.

  “You weren’t so cynical then.”

  “Why don’t you just cut the crap and tell us why we’re here,” Harlow said.

  Ophelia looked at each of them. “It’s simple. We’re here to make friends. To get closer… We’re going to have to rely on each other, to trust each other.” Softening her tone, she turned her focus to Anwen. “On that note, I have to start with an apology to you, my sweet friend. It’s so silly to get bogged down by the past. I let my emotions get the better of me. I was hurt and jealous. It was ridiculous. I hope you can forgive my abominable behavior.”

  “I…”

  “Ryske wouldn’t want us fighting, would he?” Ophelia spread her smile. “It makes his life so much easier if his women get along, doesn’t it? So, what do you say? Fresh start? Let’s just start from today. Everything else is forgotten.”

  “I…”

  “Excellent,” Ophelia said. “I hope we can all embrace that this is a fresh start for all of us.” She drew in a breath. “Now, the next thing we have to discuss are the details. On Friday night, this place will be filled with horny, rich men, and beautiful women willing to accommodate them. We know Parratt and Yarker are going to do the schmoozing, whispering to clients about what’s on offer. Ryske will take care of dispensing the product and allocating resources.” Doing the actual exchange of Pothos and matching clients with hookers. “I think it would be best if each of us supported one man. With the fourth acting as a go-between. You know, passing messages, ensuring the men have what they need.”

  “Let me guess, you want to support Ryske,” Harlow said.

  Ophelia laughed like it was a joke, but it hadn’t been. “I think it would be best to rotate probably by hour or we could do it by night.”

  “By hour sounds great,” Harlow said. “Why aren’t the men present for this?”

  “Simply put, I wanted to talk to you about what we’d have to do beyond the basic operation.”

  “We can’t support the men if we’re banging the clients,” Harlow said.

  Ophelia drank some champagne. “Oh no, I don’t mean that,” she said, screwing up her face and shaking her head. “We’re not prostitute
s, are we?”

  She hadn’t minded using sex as a manipulation tool. Underhanded manipulation was probably worse than a consensual, informed exchange, where everyone knew what they were getting into.

  “So, what is required beyond the basic operation?” Anwen asked.

  “Each of our men will have different needs,” Ophelia said. “We have to ensure that they keep their eyes on the task they’ve been assigned.”

  “And off the women prancing around in their underwear,” Anwen said and seemed to relax.

  “And the product,” Ophelia said. “If they want to sample it themselves for fun, and they can afford it, then they can do it on their own time. It may be tempting for them to try the experience for themselves once they see others enjoying it.”

  21

  “You talk about trust, but you’re admitting that you don’t trust them,” Harlow said, trying to figure out what was really going on. “Is that fair?”

  Ophelia had called this women-only meeting. While her points were valid, it seemed there was more going on. This wasn’t a necessary meeting. Was it just a test to see who would show up and who would refuse? Could be that it was just a power trip or that Ophelia had nothing else in her life and wanted some company.

  Harlow couldn’t figure it out. The whole situation was too benign. She’d come to learn that Ophelia was far more devious than she first appeared.

  “It’s not about fair,” Ophelia said. “The men have more trust in us than we have in each other.” Pointing between them, she gestured to Lydia. “Think about it. You three don’t know each other well. Why should you trust each other?”

  “Harlow and I know each other,” Anwen said.

  Ophelia’s condescending smirk was almost ironic. “Sweetie, sharing Ryske’s dick doesn’t mean you’re acquainted.”

  “We’re not here to talk about that,” Anwen said. “I thought you said you were over that.” Anwen was becoming bolder now that she was conquering her nerves. “This is so typical of you, Fi. Everything circles back to what you want. If you want him, go ahead, take him.” She folded her arms and slumped back. “We don’t care.”

  “What Ryske and I do is our business,” Ophelia said. “I apologize if my relationship with him causes this tension between us. I know you care for him deeply.”

  “None of this is Ryske’s fault,” Harlow said. “He doesn’t cause this tension.”

  “Of course he does,” Ophelia said, refilling her champagne flute. “Playing women off each other is one of his specialties. He wants us to fight over him.”

  Restraining her laugh wasn’t easy. “No,” Harlow said. “He really doesn’t. You give yourself too much credit. You really don’t enter his thoughts that much.”

  “Clearly I enter yours if you’ve come to that conclusion,” she said. “Look, ladies, I don’t want us to fight. I want us to bond. We have to know that if the men begin to act inappropriately, we will support each other in preventing them from making fools of themselves.”

  “It can’t be us against them,” Lydia said. “They are our men.”

  Harlow wasn’t sure about Lydia and resolved to ask Ryske about her later. Lydia was Parratt’s mistress, not his wife. As far as Harlow knew, Lydia hadn’t ponied up any cash. That left a question mark over her attendance. Though, Anwen hadn’t invested either, and Ophelia wanted her around, so it wasn’t a prerequisite.

  Having women involved softened the process and gave the men another avenue of negotiation. Although it hadn’t been discussed, she’d like to think that if Ryske was involved with an operation where he was asked to select a woman who could speak on his behalf, he’d pick her.

  That put a new slant on Lydia’s presence. She’d dismissed her as just a woman who slept with Parratt. Maybe that’s what she was supposed to think. If Lydia was there acting on Parratt’s behalf, as Harlow would act for Ryske, maybe there was a deeper connection there. Maybe even love.

  Except, Harlow couldn’t understand how Parratt could love her and not leave his wife for her. How could he be sleeping with Ophelia? How could Lydia be okay with that?

  “Yes, they are,” Ophelia said. “It’s our job to protect them too. They have money invested in this and want credibility. It’s our job to make sure they are conscious of both. It’s important for us to nurture our male partners. We’re going to be bonded and working together for a long time… It wouldn’t hurt for us to socialize. It’s easier to discuss business when everyone is relaxed… Perhaps we should have dinner later in the week? Thursday?”

  Lydia and Anwen both nodded in agreement.

  Harlow was more reserved. “I don’t make Ryske’s schedule.”

  If she told him to be at dinner, he’d be at dinner. But she wasn’t going to make it seem like he was the kind of guy who could be kowtowed, because, well, he wasn’t.

  “I’ll talk to him,” Anwen butted in.

  Ophelia’s smile was feline in its pleasure. “I’m sure you’ll find a way to persuade him, Anwen… You were always good at that.”

  The two enjoyed a laugh that even Lydia seemed to relish. “Ryske prefers a game of cards,” Harlow said, doing her best not to focus on Anwen’s proclivity for blackmail. “My suggestion, if you’re interested, he’ll come to dinner if you give him something in return.”

  “Cards?” Ophelia said and nodded. “You’re right. He played cards here with Jarvis.”

  Nostalgia might be nice for her. For Harlow, it was less tasteful. Windsor’s was the place Ryske was stabbed on the night they met. It was no wonder that he’d been bleeding out and on the verge of death by the time he collapsed on her.

  The distance he’d had to cover on foot between Windsor’s and where they’d met, was considerable. On top of that, he’d led Animal and his minions in circles; he hadn’t taken a direct route.

  “Harlow?”

  Realizing that Ophelia was saying her name, Harlow snapped from her trance. Each of the other women were peering at her with curiosity, probably wondering why she’d phased out.

  “What?”

  “Cards. After hours,” Ophelia said. “That would be a good time to bond in private.”

  “There’s booze and bedrooms on the premises,” Anwen said, picking up the glass of champagne Harlow had taken from her.

  Anwen’s confidence was rising. Harlow grew dubious of the affinity these women were building. Was it fake or genuine?

  “Yes,” Ophelia said, raising her glass to Anwen. “Anything goes after hours!”

  Anwen drank from the glass in time with Ophelia. That was the moment Harlow grabbed the reins and got out of the booth.

  “It’s time to go.”

  All of the women just blinked at her. If Anwen refused to leave with her, Harlow would face a difficult predicament.

  Ophelia was the one to come to her aid. “Yes,” she said, sliding out of the booth. “I have taken up enough of your time today… We’ll meet at my favorite restaurant nine PM, Thursday.”

  “Nine is late,” Lydia said, shimmying out of the booth after Anwen.

  Ophelia retrieved her champagne. “Ryske is more comfortable in the dark.”

  Harlow didn’t like that their hostess’ attention dropped to her bracelet. She did her best not to react, even though it was her impulse to cover it up, to protect it from view.

  “Nine is fine,” Anwen said. “Demar always keeps his place open for you.”

  “It’s one of the reasons he’s my favorite,” Ophelia said.

  Demar’s was just a couple of blocks from Windsor’s. That restaurant was elite, beyond five star, and had a dress code. Ryske would hate it and its likely dainty portions… To satisfy his appetite, they’d have to pick up something else on the way home. If they didn’t, he’d be hungry again before bed. But, Harlow would use the steak to sell it to him. These premier places usually had good steak.

  In contrast to their tense greeting on arrival, Anwen and Ophelia shared a double cheek kiss. Lydia did the same, just as Brash came back
in. Ophelia must have summoned him somehow; there was probably a secreted button. Either that or they’d been watched on camera the whole time.

  Though they were subtle, Harlow had noted cameras in various places dotted around the club. She didn’t see any in the bedrooms, only in the public areas. Still, she’d warn the crew that there was always a chance of being watched.

  She was thinking about getting home and asking Maze if he could hack the system when Ophelia spoke again.

  “Harlow, could we have a moment alone?”

  Everyone else was preparing to walk away. Harlow hung back, and after a quick moment of eye contact with Ophelia, she turned to Anwen. “Meet me out back.”

  Anwen nodded.

  “Tell Ryske I say hello,” Ophelia said to Anwen and then watched the group leave.

  Only after they were gone did Harlow turn back to Ophelia. When Ophelia tried to touch her arm, Harlow swung her upper body out of the way. “What do you want, Ophe?”

  “Nothing bad,” Ophelia said, all innocence. “I meant what I said about being friends. We used to be friends. We trusted each other.”

  “And then I went to jail for a crime you committed,” Harlow said, folding her arms. “It’s been downhill from there, let’s be honest.”

  Harlow didn’t like this soft, fake sympathetic Ophelia. It made her queasy. “That’s forgotten now, isn’t it? It’s in the past,” Ophelia said. “I think you’re taking what happened very well.”

  “It helps that Ryske told me not to rip your head off with my bare hands,” she said and arched a brow. “Not even Brash knows the truth, does he? You have him working for you and you can’t even be honest with him.”

  “Like I said, sweetie, it’s all in the past. We’re about moving forward,” she said. “But, when I heard about that poor man…”

  Ophelia was trying to lead her somewhere. Harlow didn’t want to walk into the trap. She didn’t. Except she couldn’t walk away. If she did, she’d never find out what Ophelia was talking about.