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They looked over their shoulders when we were out. Stayed in the living room, speaking in hushed tones late at night. While I had been at school, they’d become unhappy ghosts of the people who raised me.

Which was why I told them to leave the Ivanov family’s business.

They were in the process of doing that when they were killed, their deaths made to look like drug overdoses.

“Someone is alleging my parents not only knew the full nature of what transpired in that business but enabled it.”

If anyone but Christian needed the kind of proof I hired the investigator to find, I’d have dismissed it as ugly conjecture. However, what Christian thinks matters because I need to buy his club in order to bury Mischa once and for all.

“You have thirty days to definitively return evidence they were innocent.”

I click off more forcefully than necessary and toss the earpieces in my pocket as footsteps approach me from behind.

“Sounds juicy, boss.” Leni pops a hand on a hip as I grab the last of the blocks blocking the door.

“Christian’s holding out on La Mer. I thought he and my father were good friends. Turns out there was something between them. A misunderstanding, no doubt. My father was a decent man.”

“And if he wasn’t?”

I frown at the sun over the top of the warehouse, sweat making my shirt stick to my back. “Everything I’m doing to rebuild what they started is for them. I can’t believe he would have knowingly helped build an empire on people’s suffering.” I grab my pocket square and wipe the dirt off my hands, the sweat at the base of my neck. “Digging up the truth is my investigator’s business. In the meantime, this is ours.”

She turns to survey the property. “Looks like shit.”

“Most diamonds do before they’re polished.” I unlock the door and gesture inside. “After you.”

The space is massive, a single open rectangle with concrete floors and industrial lighting suspended thirty feet up.

The floor plans I reviewed say there are offices at one end, which we can use. The dozen loading docks are overkill. We might use one, but the rest need to be closed off or redesigned.

“How long to renovate it into a nightclub?” I ask.

“Assuming the permits and zoning are lined up… a year.”

“They’re not, and I want it in six months.”

Her laughter dies. “You’re serious?”

“I’m not waiting around while Christian passes judgment. Echo will continue to expand. We’ve been making acquisitions, but we can’t ignore development opportunities. This will be our next nightclub.”

Rumors of the nightclub industry’s downfall are overblown. The clubs that are closing are ones where the owners don’t understand the business they’re in and don’t evolve to deliver their function in new ways.

A club isn’t a venue that serves drinks.

It’s a theme park.

A secret rendezvous.

Hell, even a runway.

It’s a vehicle for thrills. The thrill made by being swept up in the darkness, the music, of watching and putting on a show.

Leni sighs. “I’ll see what I can do about the timeline. Work our contractor contacts, assuming we can pay twice regular rates.”

“One and a half,” I correct. “I’ll take care of the zoning and permits.”

LA is a city built for that twisted intersection of the elegant and the hedonistic, the cultured and the primal.

This area includes some studio buildings and storage. It’s close enough to Hollywood and most LA neighborhoods to get people in, and transit is established, though I expect most people will arrive by car.