Go All In (A Go Novel Book 4)

by Scarlett Finn

  “Used to run with us when we were kids,” Ryske said. “He’s from the neighborhood. He dabbled with us.” He rose to flash her a feral smile. “He and me had a great system… Best wingman on the crew when it came to picking up girls.”

  He ducked back down and dragged his teeth on the swell of her breast.

  “So, what happened?”

  “Don’t know,” he said. “Floyd did, I guess. Don’t know what he told Dover. Vane fell for a girl, it was all good. He ditched her and then he was gone. His aunt too. Don’t know why. Don’t know what happened. Always figured he’d be back.”

  “He never was?”

  “Nope,” he said, shaking his head in her cleavage.

  Scrunching his hair, Harlow tried to drag his head away from her flesh. Ryske grumbled and resisted. His amour was flattering, but this wasn’t the place for them to be making any decisions about this relationship.

  “Baby, we can’t do it here,” she said, running her calves up and down his sides. “If you fuck me here, you’ll have to fuck everyone. You can’t break the rules for me and not them.”

  “You were designed for breaking rules.”

  Harlow wasn’t really sure what that meant, but it sounded hot. “Let me go on top,” she said, trying to turn him over.

  Again, he resisted. “No,” he said and lifted his hips just enough to open his slacks. “This is my rodeo.”

  Laughing, Harlow wasn’t sure if that made her the bull in this scenario. It turned out not to matter because a delighted squeal interrupted them.

  Ryske took his mouth from her breast to look over his shoulder. That gave Harlow the chance to push onto her elbows to see who’d come in.

  A brunette in a bustier was on the arm of a pot-bellied banker, who Harlow was sure she’d met at one of her father’s functions. But, given her position and situation, she forgave him for not recognizing her. She couldn’t remember his name either.

  “Should we come back later?” the brunette giggled, leaning to the side to address her while Ryske climbed off the bed. “I’m sorry, I hate to interrupt a girl while she’s working.”

  Sitting up, Harlow scooped her breasts back into her dress and let herself smile. Ryske was stomping around doing something in the concealed corner of the room.

  “Hey, it’s his nickel,” Harlow said. “I get paid either way.”

  The girl laughed again, but Harlow was more amused by the glare on Ryske’s face. He stomped around the end of the bed, past the curtain and completed the transaction with the pot-bellied banker.

  After, Ryske bowed to murmur something in the brunette’s ear and then kissed her cheek. It was nice that the brunette remembered she was there. They waved farewell as the brunette trotted her client out.

  Ryske turned to her. “It’s my nickel?”

  “I suppose technically,” she said, pushing her fists into the mattress to slide off the bed. “Since I invested money and you didn’t…” Sashaying to him, Harlow took hold of his hips and guided him down onto the couch. Putting her hands on his shoulders, she bent at the waist to get her face close to his. “You work for me, big boy.”

  His amused smirk tried to play down his enjoyment of the idea, though it was an epic failure. “Oh, do I? And, what are you going to do with that power, boss?”

  “I can do whatever I goddamn like to you, any time I want.”

  Skimming her hands down his torso, she sank to her knees and slid her hands down his thighs to his knees. Pushing them apart, she let her eyes drift up to his and wasn’t surprised to see the drowsy heat he had pinned on her.

  “Yes, you can,” he purred.

  He’d already begun to open his pants on the bed, so she finished what he started. Freeing his cock, she worked his shaft in her fist.

  “This doesn’t mean anything,” she said, leaning in to circle his head with her tongue.

  “You think I give a damn?” he said. “Suck it.”

  Opening her mouth wide, she took him into her throat and lost some of her anxiety when he released a hiss of satisfaction. She’d go down in the annals of history as the best boss ever after this. Even knowing they could be caught at any time didn’t slow her down. People did come in, but they didn’t distract her.

  Harlow maybe had one more chance to enjoy him before Ophelia took him away from her, possibly for good. If Brash or Animal got their way, it would definitely be for good.

  News of what she’d done would travel to Ophelia and probably infuriate her. But Harlow was supposed to want to aggravate her, so this could be sold as a maneuver. Although Ryske was supposed to be charming Ophelia tonight, it wouldn’t be hard to convince her that he’d been suckered in by the allure of a blowjob.

  After tonight, life was going to get messier for all of them, and Harlow wouldn’t have Ryske to ground her. So, she resolved to do this and enjoy it. To hell with the plan and the complications and the uncertainty of what they were. She wanted to comfort him, and take his comfort, and she couldn’t think of a better way to do it.

  30

  Harlow had to abandon Ryske when Lydia came to relieve her. In the floating position, she was in and out of his room with customers who wanted to purchase Pothos, female companionship, or both.

  Before that hour was out, Penzance returned to the armchair he’d left to screw Svetlana. The next time Harlow went in, Maze was there, and the trio were playing cards.

  Her last couple of rotations were just going through the motions. Although the sun would be rising soon, there was no sense that the night was over. If anything, her own sense of anticipation had risen; the card game was pending.

  Brash and Animal checked out the rooms and busied themselves ushering people out of Windsor’s. Other than the select few still being entertained by Parratt and Yarker, everyone else was clearing out.

  Harlow was probably off the clock, but she left her post to move to the next one anyway. Anwen was still with Ryske when Harlow got there. She didn’t comment or shoo the woman away. Everything was winding down after all.

  “You guys got stamina,” Penzance said when she climbed onto Maze’s lap.

  The porn was off and a table had been brought in for the men to play poker. Positioned in front of the couch with a chair at either end, it held the piles of chips that were in front of each of the guys. The pot looked to be a large one.

  “Want in?” Ryske asked her.

  Moving Maze’s wrist, she peeked at his cards. “No, his hand’s too good.”

  “Nightingale!” Maze protested.

  The other men laughed at her apparent fatal error.

  “Guess I’m out then,” Penzance said.

  Ryske winked at her and tossed his cards down. “You’re a good girl,” he said. “Take it, Maze.”

  Snaking an arm around her, Maze pulled her down to smack a kiss to her cheekbone. “Yes, you are, Nightingale,” he said and showed his cards to the table.

  Ryske’s face dropped and Penzance swore. “Nine high, are you kidding?”

  “I think the expression is read ‘em and weep,” Harlow said.

  Maze leaned over her lap to scoop the chips toward them.

  “You conned me,” Ryske said. “Trinket… you conned me?”

  She was still laughing when the curtain moved and Ophelia came in.

  Although the hostess smiled, the laughter died. With a widening stance and her arms folded across her chest, it wasn’t difficult to see that Ophelia wasn’t amused. There was a party going on that she wasn’t a part of. Everyone was enjoying themselves. Without her. Anwen was draped against Ryske. Harlow was on Maze. By all appearances, this seemed to be a close-knit group.

  Ophelia wasn’t welcome; at least she wasn’t trusted by them. In other rooms, there were so many misconceptions and half-truths that it was difficult to remember who had loyalty to whom and what everyone’s motivations were. But, in this space there were bonds so strong that they wouldn’t ever be shaken; no matter how much Ophelia wanted to damage them.

&
nbsp; Gliding towards Penzance, Ophelia stretched a hand toward him. “Mr. Vane,” she said, singling out the only man in the room who wasn’t occupied by a woman. “I must welcome you aboard properly. Dinner? Tomorrow?”

  “Sure thing,” he said, taking her hand when she put it in front of his face.

  He had been stacking chips. Ophelia gave him little choice except to kiss her knuckles, since that was clearly what she wanted.

  “These guys will clear this up. I’ll pack up the product, and we’ll all chill next door for a while. Sound good, Fi?”

  Smiling, Ophelia nodded once and slid her hand away from Vane. It pleased her that Ryske was ignoring Anwen, and Harlow, and deferring to her. Harlow could already tell that the woman thought she was breaking through.

  “Yes,” she said. “Although I have to steal Harlow away.”

  “Take her,” Ryske said, sweeping the cards together to pile them into a deck.

  Harlow rose. Maze held onto her hand. “Maybe I’m not done with her,” he said.

  It was sweet that he was attempting to give her a sense of importance while Ophelia tried to diminish it.

  Ophelia just laughed. “Oh, Mr. Rowe, you can have her back in just a jiff.”

  Retreating to the edge of the room, Ophelia held open the curtain with an extended arm and gestured for Harlow to join her.

  Curious about what Ophelia might want, Harlow went, and reached the main floor first. Parratt and Yarker were by the door saying goodbye to the last of their friends and the servers were clearing tables. Women moved in and out of the private rooms, wearing street clothes, many with wet hair piled on their heads. Harlow didn’t blame them for wanting to wash the night off their bodies. She’d be eager to do the same if she had their job.

  Ophelia guided her toward the back of the room, where there were no patrons and few employees.

  She huddled close. “Are you playing?”

  “Cards?” Harlow asked. “Yes. I was planning on it.”

  Although she was no shark, Harlow had picked up quite a lot since she’d started dabbling in poker. She wouldn’t win big, but she could make up numbers. She was an investor, like anyone else. If Harlow wanted to be treated like an equal, she had to act like one. After the night she’d had, being sidelined, especially by Parratt, she felt the need to assert herself.

  “Oh,” Ophelia said, surprised. “I… I thought you might refrain.”

  Sensing this was going somewhere, Harlow lacked patience, but folded her arms. “Why would I do that?”

  “Just because you have so much to lose,” Ophelia said and narrowed her eyes. “You do understand that these games are rarely about money. Most of us have little interest in monetary stakes. We have plenty of that.”

  Most of them, meaning not her. Harlow understood the attempt at an insult. “What do you think I have to lose?”

  “Your virtue, for one,” Ophelia said. “You have no property to offer, no assets. I can’t think what you will be able to put on the table that isn’t…”

  The way she trailed off made Harlow feel like she was being setup. It was funny. Being so used to Ryske and the guys, who were much more subtle in their manipulation, she began to think of Ophelia as the graceless elephant of the game. The hostess was too desperate and obvious to disguise what she wanted.

  “What?”

  “Nothing,” Ophelia said and picked up a section of Harlow’s hair. “Nothing, honey… You should play. You’re right… Did you have fun tonight?”

  “I wouldn’t exactly call it fun.”

  “No?” Ophelia said. “Word was you had a special kind of fun on one particular rotation…” Harlow didn’t know what to say. She didn’t flinch and certainly wasn’t going to apologize. Ophelia laughed. “Oh, don’t worry, honey. I’m sure you were easily persuaded. Some women are designed for that kind of work.”

  Harlow wanted to state that she was designed for Ryske, but she wasn’t going to rock the boat this close to the finale. “Is that all you wanted?”

  “No,” Ophelia said, dropping her arm and becoming all business. “You stated that once you got your buy-in back, you would hand over your Pothos interest to Ryske. Is that still accurate?”

  Trying to figure out why Ophelia wanted this confirmation, Harlow became preoccupied with whether or not Ryske would want her to make the assertion. If he had her shares, and Ophelia took possession of him in the card game—which the woman thought would lead to them becoming a power couple—then they would have a stronger position in the consortium.

  But, it would also mean that Harlow would be cut out. If she was given back her buy-in, she could return the money to Rupert. That was an important factor to consider. Her ex would need the money for his wedding and for his child.

  Harlow assumed Rupert would be selling the apartment they’d lived in together. He’d need more room when the baby came. Her sister needed Rupert to get that money back.

  But that wasn’t the only consideration. No matter what, Ophelia needed Ryske. Parratt and Yarker did too. If they tried to swindle Ryske out of anything, he’d pull Svetlana and her girls from their deal. That would lead to Pothos being available without any outlet for its effects.

  “I can write you a check,” Ophelia said.

  Just knowing that getting her out was so important to Ophelia made Harlow want to push back. “I think I want to stick around for a while, see how this plays out.”

  Ophelia’s lips narrowed; she didn’t do a great job of holding back her irritation. “If you’re sure,” she said. “But, you know we won’t see any return for quite some time.”

  There was probably money tonight. Except money made at the bar was kept for Ophelia’s overheads. The money made by Svetlana’s girls was kept by them. The only profit Harlow was entitled to was the Pothos money. Given that the consortium had agreed to expand both in terms of physical space and client base, they’d need something to invest in the restructuring of this place.

  Ryske’s plan started to make more sense.

  Ophelia would be entitled to a cut for structural changes and remodeling needed for the accommodation of Pothos. But, if Ryske took the deed for the club, he would have to approve all of those changes, and it would become their ballgame. If he refused to make the changes—which, of course, he wouldn’t do until after everything was made legal—then there would be nothing the others could do. They’d have to be happy with the status quo, look for new premises, or follow whatever plan Ryske fed them.

  “I can live with that,” Harlow said. “Ryske won’t mind covering my bills if I barter with blowjobs.”

  Ophelia’s jaw ticked and her attention moved, which made Harlow turn around. About twenty feet away, the group who’d been in Ryske’s room were exiting, spreading out on the main floor.

  “Crash,” she called out over her shoulder, making him look their way. He started to come toward them, but stopped when she held up a hand. “No, it’s okay, you don’t have to come over. I just wanted to ask a quick question. Will you pay my cellphone bill if I suck you off?”

  His brows rose. Penzance laughed and slapped his buddy between the shoulder blades. He then walked away from Ryske, sliding an arm around Anwen as he went.

  “Try it, see what happens,” Ryske said and sauntered off after Penzance.

  Harlow was enjoying her own audacity when Ophelia leaned in to whisper in her ear. “I suppose the hooker label my brother gave you was accurate,” she hissed. “He pays you for sex. You just admitted it.”

  Tipping her chin toward her shoulder, it didn’t matter that Harlow couldn’t see Ophelia when she replied. “And he won’t even fuck you for free… What does that tell you?”

  Walking away from Ophelia, she wasn’t ashamed of what she had with Ryske. Ophelia obviously couldn’t understand it if she thought money had any bearing on their relationship.

  Despite her certainty, whatever happened tonight, no matter how it sickened her, Harlow had to go with it. This was a night when going all in would m
ean going all out. Being back there where Ryske had been stabbed on the very night they met, there was no denying their lives had gone full circle.

  When Ryske had sat down at the card table on the night he’d been stabbed, he’d had no idea who she was. They’d been oblivious to each other. Tonight, by the time he got up again, he’d have to be oblivious of her once more. If he didn’t block her out, if he didn’t forget her, he’d never be able to do what he had to do.

  31

  The first hour involved silly stakes. Chips were thrown in the pot and small amounts of money were bet to get the night started. Things began to get more interesting when Parratt and Yarker made bets on each other’s holiday homes and yachts. Harlow got the sense that was more about bragging than either of them having a genuine interest in using each others’ facilities.

  Maze had been allowed to play; he sat next to Ophelia who had Ryske at her other side. Anwen was next around the circular table. Then it was Parratt, Harlow, and Yarker completed the set.

  Parratt, Ryske, and Ophelia were the only three left in this hand. Everyone else had folded. They were waiting for Parratt to decide if he wanted to match Ryske’s bet of the Lamborghini he’d apparently been gifted by a model. Harlow didn’t know if he really had access to such a car. Probably not. She’d never seen a Lamborghini, but had no worries about their crew following through if needed. Noon would take care of acquiring whatever they required.

  Lydia wasn’t playing. Her role was to stay perched behind Parratt, keeping a note of all the bets and agreements. As they went along, each note was signed by all parties to form a rudimentary contract. They were thorough if nothing else. At the start of the game, a declaration by each individual required they state they’d honor all bets and agreements.

  Fidelity to their claims wasn’t a leap. If someone reneged on a deal, they’d lose credibility, and forfeit their right to collect on their own winnings.

  “I’m out,” Parratt said and tossed down his cards.

  All eyes fell to Ophelia who shifted to get a better look at Ryske at her side. As per usual, his expression gave nothing away. Ophelia, on the other hand, was wearing a smile. It wasn’t difficult to see that the hostess was enjoying this game. The game or being seated in close proximity to Ryske, could go either way.