Page 26 of House of Cards

Ever since I met him, I’ve been hard pressed to believe Myles ever set foot in Scotland. It’s surreal hearing his Scottish slang when I joined in meetings with him and his father. Half the time I had no fucking clue what they were talking about.

But if I ever need a reminder, his hatred of the Bogota cartel is always a good refresher. They’ve been our rivals since I joined the Balmont’s, and they take their role seriously. They’re forever trying to one-up us. Used to be they targeted our laundering operation. The minute they figured out a laundromat or a bakery or a restaurant was under our thumb, they’d try to get the owners to pay them protection for their business instead.

If they didn’t comply, the cartel would gut it.

But lately, they’ve been obsessed with our Angels. Guess their buyers prefer our girls to their heroin-addicted sex-trafficking victims.

Movement catches my eye, and I turn to look through the viewing window.

The door to the sparsely furnished adjoining room opens. One of our bouncers enters, holding a much smaller woman by the elbow. She’s dressed in the same slinky red robe Isabel’s wearing. Her robe and the bouncer’s black uniform are the only points of the color in the otherwise white room.

The bouncer leaves, the door locking audibly behind him.

She stares around with big, dazed eyes, seeming simultaneously fascinated and horrified by the spare furnishings.

A white leather chaise lounge.

A brushed steel X-cross bolted to the floor.

A glossy white utility cabinet.

Then there’s the bed, covered in more white leather and a headboard studded with metal D-rings. She stares at it like she’s gone into a trance.

The play room shouldn’t come as a shock to Lulu. She’s spent a lot of time in there with me. All our Angels do. It’s how we prepare them for our clients. Maybe they woke her up from a nap. She’s a heavy sleeper.

As if summoned by my thoughts, a man in black suit pants and a dark button-down shirt steps into the room.

“I toss back the next shot of cognac. “If that’s everything…?”

“What’s the rush?” Myles asks, sniffing at his tumbler before taking a small sip. “Haven’t seen you in days. Thought we could catch up. I’d like to hear more about this girl you?—“

“Got work to do.”

“You always have work to do. If you don’t want to stay for me, stay for the girl. Layla, isn’t it?”

“Lulu doesn’t need babysitting.” I don’t have to pretend to sound annoyed.

Myles swirls his glass, glancing past me at the viewing window. “You eager to get back to your card counter?”

Frowning, I set my empty glass down on the cocktail table. Isabel smiles at me, but I don’t smile back. “I’ve dealt with her.”

Myles is grinning at me when I turn back to him. “You mean you’regoingto deal with her? Sources say she’s waiting in the principal’s office like the naughty girl she is.”

“She stole from me,” I remind him flatly.

“Us.” Myles’s eyebrows quirk up. “Doesn’t seem fair that you’re the only one who gets to punish her, Dom. Here I am, barely surviving on two play sessions a week, and you won’t share your new toy?”

There’s a beat, so swift I could have ignored it, but it’s there. A pause where my body tightens, my jaw locks, and my instincts scream at me to shove him against the nearest wall.

A growl leaves my throat before I can stop it.

Myles didn’t mean shit by the comment. He’s always spouting crass remarks, trying to get a reaction out of everyone all the time. But a spark of anger shoots through me at the thought that Myles was picturing Zoey in any sexual context whatsoever.

I snatch my jacket up from the back of the couch, not bothering to put it on as I head for the door. The heat in the room, the heat in my chest, is making my blood boil.

Or it could be Myles.

I make sure my voice is low and even, not giving him the satisfaction of knowing he’s hit a nerve.