Ruthless King

Good.

Victor waited until they were out of the club and in the car with the divide between the front and back up to speak.

“You’re not seriously going to help back him?”

“I won’t be. But I know some backers who might be interested.”

“The last thing we need is more strip clubs.”

“We don’t need unregulated clubs, but they’re always going to exist. If you push them underground, it means the people working in them have less protection.”

“I fucking hate it,” Victor muttered. “And I don’t think I trust him. Santé.”

“You don’t trust anyone who isn’t family.”

Victor grunted. “True. So you met with Jilly last night?”

“Hmm.”

“She tell you about her boss?” Victor asked.

“Not yet.”

“What? You mean she didn’t immediately spill all of her issues so you could solve them? That must be frustrating for you, to want something you can’t get. Because in order to get her to talk, you’d have to tell her that you’ve been spying on her, right?”

Regent shot him a look. “I’ll get her to tell me. It’s just taking slightly longer than intended. I’m having dinner with her Sunday night. She’ll tell me then.”

He couldn’t remember when he’d looked forward to something as much as he was to having dinner with Jilly.

12

This was going to be a disaster.

Calm down, Jilly.

You have this.

“Mrs. Y, the sauce isn’t working!” she cried into the phone frantically. “It’s all runny.”

“Just add some more flour,” Mrs. Yards told her. “Are you sure you don’t want me to come over and make it?”

“No! I have to do this myself.” She didn’t know why, but she owed Regent. And she wanted to feed him herself. “Thanks, though. I appreciate the help.”

“I just think you should have made something a bit easier, dearie.”

“What’s easier than roast lamb with roast potatoes, cauliflower with cheese, and green beans wrapped in bacon?” she asked.

“Cheese on toast?” Mrs. Yards suggested.

“Mrs. Y!” She stared down at her sauce. Now, it was all lumpy. “It’s gone lumpy now!”

“Oh, you must have added too much flour. More milk.”

She groaned. Then the doorbell rang, making her freeze. “I’ve gotta go! He’s here.”

“Good luck, dearie. And remember, don’t eat too much. It’s hard to get down and dirty with a full stomach. You want to eat enough to have energy but not so much that you feel bloated and gassy.”

“Awesome. Thanks for the advice.”