Ibby
“I fucked up.”
I didn’t care about the time or social niceties. It had been well after five by the time I’d gotten away from CandyShop and it had taken another hour at the gym to calm down to a dull anger.
“Good morning to you, too.” Lachlan didn’t sound as though he’d been woken. “Breakfast or a run?”
“Just pounded the bags at the gym.”
“Whose face in particular were you picturing, and I assume it wasn’t mine.”
“Just meet me at Cardio’s, my shout.”
Lachlan didn’t keep me waiting long. I swear, the guy probably slept in his suit. Within twenty minutes of my phone call, Lachlan appeared at my table, immaculately dressed as if he’d been up for hours.
Me, well I’d run out of changes of clothes stored in my gym locker, so it was either sweaty gym gear or a shower and yesterday’s clothes. At least if I closed my eyes, my suit jacket still retained traces of Katie’s perfume from when I’d escorted her home. Before going back to CandyShop to the applause of my staff. The best night’s takings in months, all due to Katie and her influence.
“Rough night? What’s her name and how did you fuck it up?”
“Garrison turned up at CandyShop last night.”
“What did he want?”
“I dunno, to check on his investment or something? He didn’t fill me in.”
“So, what happened.”
My knee shook the table while the waitress took our orders. There was no point trying to stop until our coffees arrived. Timing was everything and I didn’t want to have half a conversation interrupted by bubbly table service.
“Well?” Lachlan tapped his spoon against the crockery. Of course, for this man, time equaled money and I’d already burned through thousands.
“Look, I never talk about women, but—”
“You didn’t sleep with Garrison’s woman!”
“No. Hell no. I don’t even think he has one, not the way he was looking at Katie last night.”
“Shit. Your blonde from The Club?”
“The same one. She did some promotion and got the crowds back to CandyShop last night. We were on the dancefloor and in the middle of a moment when Garrison came up.”
“So, what part did you screw up—the moment or Garrison?” Lachlan had always appreciated his own sense of humor.
“Worse. He saw the way I looked at her. You know what he can be like. If he thinks it is personal between me and Katie—”
“You’ve put a target on her back.”
“I can’t screw up the payments. He won’t bother making threats against me, not if he knows how I feel about Katie.”
“And your feels are—”
Shit. Time to be honest with someone and it might as well be with the only person who could help. I finished the rest of my coffee and motioned for another. Buying time. If I couldn’t describe my feelings it to myself, how on earth could I articulate them to another person.
It wasn’t like I had a shit load of friends, but at least Lachlan knew about the deal.
“That bad?” Surprisingly, my friend didn’t offer judgement, only empathy. “Does she know?”
“Man, you should have seen her last night, dragging me down on the dancefloor and putting on a show. It was as if we were the only two people in the world.” Shaking my head for show, I didn’t want to erase the memory. “If she’d been any other woman, I’d have dragged her to the nearest fucking bed, given her what her body was craving, and we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
“So, why didn’t you? Come on, it’s not like you haven’t found, fucked and forgotten a woman before.”
“Katie isn’t like that. I know that if we do, it isn’t gonna be a one-time thing. The point is, Garrison saw us and guessed a hell of a lot.”
“Like?”
“Calling her my girlfriend, which I had to set straight, and then coming onto her, hard.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“I need an exit plan. Some way of paying Garrison back if this biker shit doesn’t get resolved. Last night had good cash flow but I need to string together another six months like that across all venues. If I can’t—”
“You don’t believe Garrison will let them out of their employment contract?”
“I don’t know what he’ll do, but most of it will be to mess with my mind. What if the whole biker thing is his set up? He wants me to fail and will offer to take the nightclubs off my hands to forgive my debts.”
“Problem is, if clean money finds out about your arrangement with Garrison, your options are limited.”
“Like I said, I fucked up.”
“Ibrahim Mercia! Tonight’s my lucky night to run into you. Have you got a minute?”
An invitation from Luther, president of Kingsmen MC only had one possible answer. His table, my nightclub. Fuck.
“Of course, how can I help you gentlemen?”
Get the fuck out of my nightclub and let me make some money. Oh, to be able to be honest instead of keeping my head still attached to my shoulders.
“I understand you are in a little bit of a predicament.”
“Can I be frank?” I waited for Luther to nod and clear the table before I continued, “These business discussions that are taking place all over the city seem to only happen in nightclubs I own.”
“Yours are the best.”
“They used to be. With one crew around, the crowds feel safe. They know that if any shit goes down, your boys will step in and sort it.”
“You could always choose sides.” Luther’s gaze didn’t waver. Fuck. “You and I go back aways. We’ve always done well together. If you would restrict access to your nightclubs, we can return to normal.”
“Please don’t take this the wrong way, but the Redbacks announced their intention by shooting up one of my nightclubs in Brisbane. I’ve had to close it for renovations, but the truth is until this shit gets sorted, I’m better off closing all my businesses until the two of you sort things out.”
“How will you pay Mr. Garrison back?” Luther leaned back; hands clasped behind his head. The bastard knew exactly what he was doing. “Perhaps this wouldn’t be the right time to make such an interesting investment decision like closing your clubs.”
Before I could answer, two dozen heavily armed police stormed CandyShop. Barking instructions to my staff, within seconds, all the lights came on and customer screams replaced the thump thump of music.
“You get many police raids?” If Luther was carrying, he didn’t seem perturbed.
“Who should I thank for this one? You or the Redbacks?”
“Maybe the police are just trying to keep Sydney party-goers safe. You know, the way we used to.”
“I’m still paying you protection, but we agreed on a percentage and takings are down.”
“Mr. Mercia? I’m Detective Sergeant Andrew Knoakes from Taskforce Icehouse.”
Nodding my continued respect to Luther, I stood to shake hands with my new enemy, “Detective Sergeant, if you wanted free entry to my nightclub, you only had to ask.” Serious motherfucker didn’t even smile. “How can I help you?”
“Mr. Luther.” The Detective Sergeant acknowledged the large biker who hadn’t risen to his feet. “I guess you didn’t get caught up in the serious crime prevention orders restricting who you can associate with?”
Luther didn’t flinch. I had to hand it to him, if the raid had been staged for intimidation, Luther had balls of steel. “Detective, I’m just out enjoying the Sydney nightlife with friends. Bring on your sniffer dogs, search my friends and I as much as you want, we’re clean.”
“It’s Detective Sergeant and I’m—”
“Boss! Here!” A sprightly, younger constables sounded like he found a hidden stack of Christmas presents on Boxing Day.
“Excuse me.” The Detective Sergeant left us for a nearby table occupied by Garrison’s crew.
“Shit.” Could my night or life get wo
rse?
“Could work out well for you. I mean, if there is heat then they’ll have to find somewhere else to hang out.”
“Did you set this up?” Honesty had never been Luther’s calling cards, but I’d played enough poker to read faces.
“No, but I did get the heads up to be clean tonight. My boys only came out for some fun and to make sure you felt protected.”
“I’m feeling protected, but not loved. Seriously, if you want me to still have a business worth your protection money, sort your shit out somewhere else.”
“All you had to do was ask nicely.”
“Please.” I spat out, disgusted my old friend would push me into the corner. “Please, Luther, leave my clubs alone so I stay in business long enough to keep paying you what you deserve.”
Within the hour, three of Garrison’s crew were escorted outside in silver cuffs. Half a dozen of my customers were cautioned for possession of consumable quantities and three people ended up in an ambulance having tried to swallow evidence.
All the publicity gains we’d made from Katie and her friends had been ruined by a single police raid.
“You seem stressed, my friend.” Luther and his friends gathered around me. A show or respect or something else? Tonight, I was second guessing the color of the fucking water.
“I’m fine. Thank you for your concern.” False politeness could keep my business alive, for another day.
“Think how very wanted you are. We want you, the Redbacks want you and now the police also want you to feel their love.”
Luckily, Luther didn’t expect an answer because I had nothing to give. If the Kingsmen and Redbacks didn’t sort things out, I’d be forced to make a decision. Unlike most business decisions, this one came with consequences for more than my bottom line. Choose wrong and not only could I kiss goodbye to my empire, but Katie and Chelle would become Garrison’s pawns.
While my staff opened the bar for what was left of our customers, I locked myself away in the office. Checking security feeds and trying to think through contingencies. It kept coming down to Lachlan needing to find an alternative source of money. Darius could probably get Chelle a job within his tech company—with her financial and business background, she’d be easy to place and Darius’ connections could keep her safe. Even if Darius didn’t come through, I could call on some favors interstate so she could start again. Not that she’d thank me for ruining her life here, but at least she’d be safe.
Katie.
It always came back to Katie.
With her looks and now social media presence, hiding her wasn’t an option. But the thought of Garrison getting his hands anywhere near her body filled me with equal measures of jealousy and dread.
Katie.
Damn it, she was better off without me. But whatever it cost, whatever it took, I couldn’t risk Katie becoming a victim.
No, Katie wasn’t my girlfriend. I couldn’t even claim her as someone special.
For each of my thirty years, I’d worked alone, lived alone and refused to love a woman other than my mother.
Building a successful business had meant burying my emotions.
Even if they threatened to become real.
Katie
After hosting two bachelor parties at The Club and barely getting home before dawn, I’d turned off all alarms and closed my black out drapes. The parties tipped well, but most of the guys seemed intent on proving to each other who could drink the most; or fuck the most women in one night. Even my ever-present security guard, Steve, seemed impressed at how much the rugby league players could drink and remain standing.
I deserved to sleep until waking of natural causes.
Not that I hadn’t been tempted by the tall blonde who I’d recognized from social media as well as sports pages of the national press. Big, rugged and a quintessential blonde Australian. Most of his appeal was being a direct contrast to Ibby who was fit, dark and mysterious. Ibby’s eyes always hinted at secrets, a window to his brain that never stopped. Again, a complete opposite to the hunky blonde who could barely string two sentences together.
Although neither of the two women who left the private viewing room after an hour with the footballer complained about his lack of conversation.
Waking at midday, alone, my urges were starting to become primal. I needed to break out of my slump and either get a man on permanent standby or indulge in a night of uncomplicated and meaningless sex. Not because I missed having a man in my life, but so I could stop fantasizing about a man determined to ignore me as anything other than an employee.
With a rare Saturday night only working until midnight, I could actually get dressed up and find a nightclub not owned by Ibby. Somewhere where the drinks could flow freely, and I could get up the courage to fuck a random stranger without losing my heart.
Yeah, right. Even I didn’t believe my bullshit bravado.
Last night, I could have had the blonde, but he wasn’t Ibby enough. As if I’d jump into bed with anyone other than Ibby. The one man who’d never see me as a woman.
Damn him.
To hell with Ibby and his bloody rules, I stretched and got ready to face the day, or what was left of it. Publicists were filling my DMs and emails. Wanting to set me up with one of their clients. Hordes of famous couples met through publicists--why not me? At least the guy would be vetted, have the looks and not be pushing for more than a night of fun.
Except, my phone wasn’t filled with new invitations. Or if it was, they were lost in the floods of texts and messages. Friend after friend, even well-meaning randoms were sending me links to news articles, warning me and hoping I was safe.
Police find more than candy at CandyShop nightclub.
Club at centre of biker turf war raided.
Ibrahim Mercia cries for mercy as police raid.
Will last night’s raids be enough to stop a war?
Scanning articles across all the major news sources, I tried to see the positives. At least, Ibby’s nightclub hadn’t been implicated in anything illegal and while there had been a couple of arrests, it could have been worse.
Dee: What the hell kind of club did you take us to?
“Hi Dee, ready to go out again tonight?”
Yes, we could have had a text conversation that would go on forever. But, if I could talk Dee around, the rest of the girls would follow.
“Aren’t you working?”
“Only until midnight—I’m thinking it’s time to dress up!”
Playing on Dee’s legendary fear of FOMO, I said, “Before others get the idea, what if we go all police fetish? You know, make a whole play on last night’s raid. Bring out the handcuffs, the black boots and stuff.”
Dee’s silence seemed to last forever, “Will your friend open the bar for us?”
“Are you still friends with those male strippers?”
“I could be, why?”
“If we can fill the club after last night’s raid, then I think we can get Ibby to do more than just give us free drinks all night. I’m thinking a percentage of the door.”
“Girl, now you’re talking. How about you confirm that the place is opening while I map out a strategy.”
“Talk soon.”
Setting my emotions aside, I re-read all the articles I could find, stopping only when my finger refused to scroll past a photo taken of Ibby as he left CandyShop in the early hours. His shirt slightly wrinkled, but the photographer caught Ibby’s smoldering eyes.
Damn.
Best scenario for tonight would be I’d help him out with publicity, and we got to dance again. Worse case, he either didn’t turn up or he did and ignored me. Which would give me the green light to hook up with one of Dee’s male stripper friends. Hot body with no conversation. If I couldn’t have Ibby—
Katie: Is CandyShop open tonight?
Ibby: Have you heard something I haven’t?
Katie: Is it open?
For once, my phone rang while sitting on my bed. I’d been waiting for
a text but answering to hear his sexy voice made my day.
“Why do you want to know?”
“I was talking to one of my friends and we feel like a police fetish theme.”
“Are you fucking kidding me? Didn’t you hear what happened last night—I’m not laughing about the raids.”
“So, let’s use them to our advantage.”
Okay, I didn’t mean to say, our but it slipped out before I could remember there was no us or our. Only lonely nights with my own fingers for company. Quickly, before I lost my nerve and Ibby shot me down, “Look, the media love a good story, so let’s give them one. At the stroke of midnight, more sexy singles are going to descend on CandyShop. We’ll all be ready, willing and able to hand-cuff ourselves to each other. I’m talking full on fetish, black latex and the full works.”
“Aren’t you working at The Club?”
“I finish at midnight. If my bosses would let me leave early, I’d have time to change into a little black jacket I’ve been dying to wear. Replace my black shorts with a front zip uniform with a skirt that will light up Instagram, and I’ll borrow some cuffs and a soft whip from one of the rooms.”
“Katie, I don’t know whether to come over and fuck you senseless just for the visions you are putting in my head, or to kiss you as my business savior.”
“Why do you have to choose?” We’d gone from nothing to amped up flirting in a nano-second. Even if Ibby didn’t mean it, I did. “The other night before we got interrupted, we had a moment.”
A long pause, had I pushed too far?
“Sweetheart,” he paused, and my heart did all crazy shit with backflips and butterflies. “With all the shit going down, my life is complicated. I don’t want you getting messed up in it by hooking up with me.”
“Because you don’t do relationships,” I guessed, ready to back the hell away. Move postcodes and even countries. “Sorry, I should have realized.”
“Katie, I haven’t been with a woman for, well you don’t need to know how long. Come to CandyShop, wear as little as you want and dance with me unless you find someone better. Just, if anyone asks, please don’t tell them you’re my girlfriend.”
Hard Bargain: a Billionaire Suspense Romance (City Sinners Book 3) Page 4