Page 29

I walk through Level Seven Nightclub, and it’s pretty empty except for the workers who are getting ready to open the place up in a couple of hours.
The club is decked out in extravagance and lights. A giant snakeskin double helix hangs above the giant dance floor. Through the center of it, a glass chandelier, made to look like raindrops, hangs. A second-floor balcony wraps around the entire lower portion. This is where the special guests get to hang out and drop thousands of dollars in one night.
A DJ is on the stage working through some lighting and set issues prior to the night’s opening. Before long, people will be elbow to elbow, drunk off their ass, and dancing to whatever annoying shit is coming out of those speakers.
I keep walking to the other side of the floor toward the employee only elevator. Once I’m inside, I enter my pin and take it up to the third floor. When the doors open, I walk out, turning to my right and seeing the whole club below me.
God, I hate this fucking place.
Shaking my head, I head toward the locked soundproof doors and let it scan my eye. It clicks, and I enter. There is only my father’s office back here, but a reception desk is up at the front and a conference room behind where the desk is.
The office is empty, and at this time of night, that’s typical. Making my way back, I get to his door, and I take a deep breath before pushing inside. God only knows what I will find behind these doors. But here I go anyways.
As soon as I walk in, I stop in my tracks.
Well, found his receptionist.
On her knees, with his dick in her mouth.
“Son! Sorry, I got bored.” He yanks the blonde up by her ponytail, and she lets out a screech. “Your sucking skills need work. Get the fuck out of here until you can learn to suck a dick like the slut I know you are.”
The blonde straightens her skimpy black dress and wipes her mouth with her finger. As she runs a hand through her hair, she turns and smiles at me. I stand there, emotionless. These bitches are just fucking my father thinking they can get some of the family fortune.
He would have them killed before that happened. They have no idea how dangerous he really is. What he controls and who.
When slut in training leaves, my father goes to the back credenza and pours himself a glass of whiskey. He then preps a second one, but the bastard knows I don’t drink.
He walks over and hands me the drink before sipping on his. I take the glass and slowly move the drink in the air holding it off to the side of me. His eyes track every single one of mymovements as my eyes stay locked in on his. My head tips to the side as I slowly start to pour the drink out onto the floor.
He rolls his eyes. “Fuck’s sake, Tristan. You could’ve just not had the drink,” my father says as he knocks back his whiskey.
“You know I don’t drink,” I say flatly.
“One won’t kill you.” He shakes his head.
I don’t answer him. He knows I don’t drink. Not a single drop past these lips. Ever. And he knows why.
Because the one night I did, the one night I got shit faced, my mother was killed. And I couldn’t be there to save her.
Because I was passed out drunk.
“What do you want?” I grate out.
My father sighs, “It would be nice if I could run the club with my son.”
“I don’t want anything to do with this cesspool.” I grimace.
“Not this one, The Pit under it.”
“That’s even worse.” I roll my eyes.
“Tristan, you are an Evans. You have the world at your fingertips. And yet you continue to play this little boy’s game. It’s time you step into your role as an Evans.” He sets his glass down and sits down at his desk.
“A little boy’s game I get paid millions of dollars a year to play,” I growl as I turn and head back toward the door.
“You took an oath, son.” His words make me stop in my tracks. “The society has been patient with letting this little tantrum you have been throwing, but they are quickly losing patience.”
“I took an oath when I had no idea what it was that I was getting myself involved with.” My entire body starts to vibrate in anger and rage.