Page 38 of Savage Promises (Quinlan Empire #2)

Lennox - March

T he roar of the Corvette engine vibrates through me as Shane speeds along a road I can’t see. A blindfold covers my eyes, but I feel his gaze flick to me every so often. It both warms me and sends icy chills down my spine at the same time.

It’s been a month since the Albanian warehouse fire and the disappearance of all the weapons Shane wanted to strengthen the empire. Still, I worry I’m being used as some bargaining chip to see if Garrett knows anything he’s not telling the Quinlans.

Dread is lodged in my throat, but I stay strong. That’s what Shane expects from me. And it’s my best chance to survive whatever the hell this is.

The car slows, making a full turn onto another bumpy road until we glide over what feels like smooth asphalt. Finally, the engine cuts, its purr fading.

I hear Shane’s door open. A moment later, my lock clicks and his warm hand takes mine to guide me out.

“Keep the blindfold on,” he says, his voice even.

I nod softly, letting him lead me forward. We cross through a whoosh of automatic doors and the air feels different, tinged with a faint hint of fresh paint, wood shavings, and new carpet.

“Okay, baby,” Shane murmurs, his breath warm against my ear. “You can look now.”

The blindfold falls away, and the air seizes in my lungs. We’re standing in the center of an opulent two-story nightclub. My ...nightclub.

But then I remember. It’s not mine. I couldn’t get the funding and lost it.

The place looks completely different from the construction site I visited months ago, but I’d know the bones of this place anywhere.

It’s what drew me to it. The main floor stretches like a sea of polished marble and glass.

Overhead, a massive crystal chandelier casts prisms of light that dance across the space.

The bar, a sleek, curved surface of black quartz, glimmers under strategically placed lighting.

Plush, jewel-toned seating areas are arranged in intimate clusters.

The second-floor VIP balcony wraps around, offering a perfect view of the dance floor below.

The seating areas are even more lavish than the main floor, each broken up with velvet drapes, gold accents, and glass cocktail tables.

It’s stunning, but white-hot anger bubbles in the pit of my stomach. The club has been remodeled exactly to my specifications. That creep architect sold my design ideas to someone else. Someone who could afford to pay him.

“Shane, what’s going on?” I ask, as warm tears burn the corners of my eyes. “Who...who bought this club?”

“You did.” Shane leans against the wall, a picture of power and beauty.

“No. I didn’t. I couldn’t. What are you talking about?”

His expression is unreadable except for a dark satisfaction in his eyes.

“Come on.” He takes my hand again. “I’ll show you.”

He steers me through a hallway of lockers, state-of-the-art equipment, and appliances. After a set of stairs, we arrive at an office and Shane stands in front of it, smiling.

Then he steps away and I gasp.

Lennox Quinlan, Owner.

“Me, the owner? Are you kidding?” I clutch my chest.

“I don’t kid.” Shane whooshes the door open. “Surprise, baby.”

The office is nothing like the cramped, dark-wood paneled office at Club Echelon.

This looks feminine. The walls are cream and gold, lined with white built-in bookshelves and art deco accents.

A massive white lacquer desk sits in the corner on an angle with a teal blue velvet tufted chair behind it.

The surface of the desk is clear except for a sleek silver laptop and a single vase of white roses.

Excitement hums from his skin as Shane struts to the desk to lift a stack of papers.

“This is the paperwork to prove it. It’s your club, Lennox,” he says, placing the sheets in my shaking hands. “The club is fully paid for. No loans, no debts. And I’ve deposited one year’s worth of operating capital into a checking account. In your name and your name only.”

Throat dry, I sift through the papers. There’s a deed to the building, a certificate of occupancy, and finally, a bank statement.

Lennox Quinlan

The balance has my heart pounding.

$1,000,000.

One million dollars. Operating capital. For a club. My club.

I stare at Shane, my jaw dropped. This can’t be real. “Shane, I... I can’t accept this.”

“Of course, you can,” he says firmly, his hands wrapping around my waist. “You’re my wife. I told you, I’d give you everything and anything.”

The words hang in the air, heavy with meaning. My heart twists with a mixture of gratitude and confusion.

“But this isn’t real,” I whisper. “I’m your wife, but our marriage isn’t real.”

Even though we’ve been honeymooning like it is. Every night we make passionate love for hours, but afterward, Shane locks himself away in his bedroom while I try to fall asleep, alone in mine.

He tilts my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. “Our marriage is real, Lennox. Very real for me. ”

We lapse into silence for a moment, the weight of his stare wrecking me.

I look around the office and out at the club through smoky double-sided glass. Feeling another kind of reality wash over me, I ask, “What about the warehouse that burned down? All the weapons you were expecting to get out of this deal?”

His jaw tightens. “That’s between your brother and my family. This , my gift of the club to you, is between us. Husband and wife.”

“Is this a payoff?” I ask, my voice trembling. “You’re going to kill Garrett, aren’t you? Is this to make me look the other way?”

His expression softens, though his eyes remain searching. “I’m not going to kill Garrett.”

I roll my eyes. “Okay, not you literally, but your enforcer team.”

“No one is killing Garrett. There’s no evidence he warned the Albanians. They’re at war with the Italians. A war we instigated,” Shane reminds me. “And I have what I really want.” He kisses my knuckles. “You. And this is what I want to give you. A gift you deserve. You worked hard for this, baby.”

“And my hours don’t bother you? Be honest,” I whisper.

“Do I wish you were home more? Sure.” Shane’s lips capture mine in a heated kiss. “But I’m strong enough to let you have your dreams.”

For a moment, all other questions, all my doubts dissolve. But as his kiss deepens, one question hits me. I lean away and stare down at the papers. “I didn’t see the outside. What’s the name of the club?”

Shane snags my hand, a mischievous smile building on his mouth. He brings me to the office window overlooking the entire nightclub. “Look at the sign over the bar area.”

The blue mercury mirror over the opulent bar has shimmering letters that spell out Luxe.

He kisses the back of my head. “A statement of class and elegance. Like my wife.”

“Shane, it’s perfect.” My heart pounds as I dive into his arms.

He cups my face, his thumb brushing my cheek. “You’re perfect. You earned this, all of it. I examined the business records of Echelon and how you made it a success. I have every faith you’ll shine even brighter here because it’s all yours.”

I clear my throat, guilt always stealing my joy.

“I... I have to pay you in some way. My father’s settlement for buying me out of Club Echelon isn’t a lot.”

This is amazing timing on Shane’s part. The date for Garrett to take over had been looming, and crushing me to lose what I worked so hard for.

“That settlement is money you earned. He paid you a pathetic salary. Take that money and spoil yourself with all those little things I know you don’t want to ask me for.

Like your manicures. Like getting your hair done.

Or just take Mara out for a girl’s night.

I don’t want a prisoner. I want a wife.” His hands lift my skirt.

“I want us to have respect, passion, and great fucking.”

“Shane,” I rasp, feeling him grow hard in his trousers.

“That’s me. Your husband.” He reaches under my skirt and slides off my panty with one hand. “And there is a way you can pay me back, my beautiful wife.”