Page 25 of House of Cards

“Trip was a sham.” There’s an unhappy twist to his mouth. “That wrinkled old ball sack blindsided me.”

“Color me surprised.”

“Aye.” Myles shrugs, then snaps his fingers in the general direction of a young woman seated primly at the cocktail table in the corner. She rises gracefully to bare feet and hurries over tothe wet bar to fix a drink. The flimsy red satin robe she’s wearing does little to hide the lithe body beneath. But for once, I’m not interested in watching Isabel go about her duties.

Must have something to do with the snarky thief that keeps crossing my mind. Zoey put up such a fuss when I handed her over to Troy and told him to take her to my room, you’d swear I’d threatened to hang her. I’m not sure if she was indignant about still being half-naked, or that I called her kitten and told Troy to use his belt as a collar if she tried anything.

I believed she called him a brainless ogre when he grabbed her. Or was it a troll?

“Told me it was a hunting trip, but it was just an excuse for the pruny old cunt to harass me. Didn’t even see a fucking deer.” Myles plucks at the lapel of his jacket.

I wonder why.

His neon green-and-blue plaid hunter’s jacket probably sent every animal within a mile bolting out of sheer confusion.

“Harass you about what?” I frown as I adjust a suspender, thinking back to the sound it made when it hit Zoey’s thigh.

Christ, she was so fucking wet. My cock hasn’t been that hard for…weeks? Months?

It took every ounce of self control I had not to bend her over that tiny desk and pound into her until she begged me to stop.

I’ve spent years building walls between business and pleasure, maintaining strict control in both worlds. Zoey threatens those boundaries with every defiant glare and reluctant moan.

I should hand her off to Richmond, treat her like just another Angel in our stable.

Just the thought makes my jaw clench.

I shift in the seat, wrenching my attention back to Myles when I realize he’s still talking.

“—wouldn’t shut up about my lack of contributions, and why couldn’t I be more like my brothers?”

“Has he gone senile?” I shake my head as I slip off my glasses and polish them on my shirt. “We launder eighty percent of his income through our operations. Without you, he wouldn’t even have a roof over his head.”

I get a deadpan look from Myles. “If anyone could forget who’s responsible for pumping out millions of dollars of clean money for them every fucking week, it’s him. Wish the fuckin’ wankstain would just boots up already.”

Myles is always in a shitty mood when he comes back from a visit with his father, but this is the worse I’ve seen him in a long time.

At seventy-three, Balmont Senior is well on his way to retirement, but the old miser still prefers public beheadings to golf… and I don’t see that changing soon. As much as he hates his father and prays for his demise on a weekly basis, I know Myles secretly wishes Archie will live forever. With Balmont Senior gone, Myles will be next in line…unless he can convince one of his younger brothers to take over.

“Enough about that devil.” Myles cracks his knuckles, an impish light dancing in his blue eyes. “I’d rather talk about Angels.”

I grit my teeth, slowly replacing my glasses.

Isabel brings us each a tumbler of cognac, head low, peering at me through her lashes. Usually, I’d appreciate the notes like a fine wine, as much as her submissive posture, but tonight I toss it back without a care for how it burns my throat and don’t spare her a second glance.

Myles’s eyebrow twitches up at this, but he says nothing, waiting for my thoughts to percolate.

The Devil’s Den is renowned for its world-class DJ line up, award-winning cocktails, and innovative interior design. And ifyou have enough zeros in your bank account, you’re able to access entertainment not available to other patrons just one floor below.

But after losing three Angels last month, we’re left with a deficit of fresh meat to supply our VIP clients.

Zoey arrived at the perfect time, but for some reason I’m struggling to nail down, I don’t want to announce her yet.

“I’m working on it,” I mutter, tapping a nail against the glass to summon Isabel so she can top me up.

“Work a little faster, would you? Our regulars are getting bored.” Myles rolls his head to the side, staring at me with exaggerated annoyance. “Wouldn’t want them spending their hard-earned trust funds on cartel imports, would we?”

Myles twirls the contents of his tumbler with a twist of his wrist, his eyes latching onto Isabel when she exchanges my drink with a fresh one. “Swear, I see one of those Colombian fucks, and all I wanna do is blow their faces off with a shotgun.”