Page 1 of The Good Girl Effect (Salacious Legacy #1)

Jack

“ E veryone’s here,” I say as I find a seat in the back of the dimly lit bar. “Did you all get the email too?”

“Yep,” my best friend Phoenix replies next to me.

“Sure did,” Weston adds while scrolling on his phone.

At the corner of the booth, Julian and his sister, Amelia, sit in silence. Julian is doing so as a form of defiance, while Amelia is silent most of the time anyway. She’s chewing on her lip, looking more uneasy by the second.

Neither of them wants to say anything about this mysterious email their father sent everyone yesterday asking us to meet at Geo’s bar promptly at eight.

Ronan Kade co-owns the sex club where I’ve been working for the past seven years.

He’s also my godfather, and his son, Julian, has never been my biggest fan.

The feeling is mutual.

It grates on my nerves to see the pretentious, haughty expression on his face. Julian and I might have grown up together, but it doesn’t change the fact that I find him to be infuriatingly snobbish and full of himself.

“So do you think he’s coming?” I ask, scanning the group around me.

“Yeah, right,” Julian snaps. “He’s not coming. He’s probably on a yacht halfway across the world right now. He sent this email to trick us all into meeting here.”

To trick us all into talking to each other , I think without saying it out loud.

“And what about your sister? She’s on the email too,” Julian says as if it’s a weapon to use against me. He’s cruelly pointing out that my own sister isn’t speaking to me. She won’t return my calls, let alone step foot in the same room I’m in.

My younger sister, Elizabeth, took my wife’s death last year as hard as I did.

She looked up to Em like a true sister and even lived with us during Em’s brutal passing.

But when she needed me the most, I went to a dark place for a long time.

I should have been there for my sister and my daughter, but I just couldn’t. I could hardly be there for myself.

And now, my only goal is to get my four-year-old daughter out of Paris and go back home where we belong. If this email from Ronan means what I think it means, I might have my opportunity.

“We don’t need to wait for Elizabeth,” I mutter under my breath, assuming she won’t show.

“We should wait for everyone,” Phoenix says, softly placing a hand on my arm. I can’t make eye contact with her because I know she’s right.

Just then, the heavy door swings open, and I turn to find my sister slipping into the room.

She doesn’t make eye contact with anyone as she approaches our table, sliding into the empty seat silently.

Her black hair is pulled tight into a bun at the back of her head, and her expression is harsh like it’s filled with pain. The sight guts me.

No one speaks—the six of us stationed around the table in the back of a dark speakeasy as if we’re awaiting our grim fate.

“Now what?” Phoenix asks first. I look at her, our expressions mirrored. She’s been my best friend for years. She followed me to Paris after college and is currently the only person at this table who I think actually likes me.

As for the others, Julian and Amelia were raised here, although their parents are American. My sister came for a ballet program. And Phoenix and Weston came out here to work for the club a few years ago.

I’m starting to feel restless as the awkward silence engulfs the table. My hope is that Ronan is about to announce his official retirement, naming his son his successor, which would mean I’ll be free to leave. There’s not a chance in hell I’ll work for Julian Kade.

Just when I’m about to suggest we call Ronan, my phone buzzes.

As does everyone else’s.

We all look down in unison.

“It’s an email from Dad,” Amelia says softly with a smile.

Julian rolls his eyes without picking up his phone.

“I’ll read it,” I say, clicking the notification.

“ Dear Kids ,” it starts, as if we’re a bunch of teenagers and not a group of fully grown adults in our twenties and thirties.

“ This message is for all six of you: Julian, Amelia, Jack, Phoenix, Elizabeth, and Weston ? —

“ This letter is a long time coming, and I'm sure you've guessed by now what it's about. With the help of my business partner, Matis Moreau, I’ve managed L’Amour for the past two and a half decades. It is time for me to officially retire.

“ I’ve spoken to Matis about this, and we both agree that you should make the club yours now .”

“Wait,” Julian interjects with a scowl. “Who? Who the fuck is going to own the club?”

I scan the beginning of the email again, searching for the answer.

“I think he means…all of us,” Phoenix replies.

“All of us?” Amelia asks. “Own the club together?”

“Fuck this,” Julian mutters, tossing his phone back on the table and picking up his drink.

With a disgruntled sigh, I continue reading.

“ I’ve known you all since you were born.

Your parents created a legacy, and you were raised together like a family.

You came to Paris with a dream, and you’ve all worked so hard at L’Amour.

But what I see now are six adults who have lost their way.

You’ve grown apart, and each of you has lost something you can never replace. I know how that feels.

“ I see your potential. Each of you brings something special to the table. If you really worked together, you could make a club even better than what your parents created.

“ There is nothing more powerful than family. The six of you are a family, whether you see it or not. There are three of you missing from this letter—Liam, Austin, and Scarlett. They are choosing another path for their lives, but this offer extends to them, should they choose it. And I hope they do. ”

Across the table, my sister huffs, and I look up to find her clenching her teeth angrily. Trying not to let it affect me, I continue reading.

“ That is why I am passing the club down to all six of you. You can do what you want with it. Change the name. Make it yours. The only catch is that you have to run it together for at least a year. If one of you pulls out, the ownership reverts to Matis, and he’ll sell the property.

“ This isn’t a punishment. It’s an experiment. I watched your parents’ club save lives, and I’m hoping this one will save yours.

“ One year. That’s all I ask. After the year is up, you can do what you want.

“ I’m begging you to give it a shot.

“ Find your family, and make this your home.

“ Sincerely, Ronan Kade ”

My jaw hangs open as I stare at the email. The rest of the table is silent as we let this news settle in.

Suddenly, I see my plans of leaving Paris slipping through my fingers. If I leave, the rest of them lose out on this opportunity. Do I really want that on my head?

I scroll through the message again. “There has to be some catch.”

“Well, that settles it.” Elizabeth stands angrily from the table. “Looks like none of us are getting the club after all.”

“Now, wait a minute,” Amelia pleads with a hand toward Elizabeth. “Are we not going to consider it at least?”

“Consider what?” Julian barks. “The six of us are more likely to sprout wings and fly to Neverland than work together and create something that could actually succeed.”

“Not with that attitude,” Weston replies sarcastically.

He’s hardly looked up from his phone this entire time, and I doubt he’s even interested in what has been presented to us.

Everything is a joke to Weston. He’s here to party, and everyone knows it.

If he doesn’t get a crack at owning the club, he’ll just tend the bar here at Geo’s or at one of many other bars in Paris.

He doesn’t have nearly as much riding on this as the rest of us do, and his cutting tone grates on my nerves.

“Maybe Dad is right,” Amelia says sweetly as she wrings her hands and glances around the table. “Maybe we could own it together. It could work.”

She barely gets through the sentence before her brother rises from the table. Weston is right behind him.

“What a waste of time,” Julian complains.

There is disappointment on Amelia’s face, but all I see is my sister sitting next to her.

My sister, who I haven’t even been in the same room with for over a year.

Who knows if I’ll get this chance again?

If I want to repair my relationship with Elizabeth, working side by side with her on this club might be the only way to do it.

This could be different than just seeing each other in passing like we do now.

We’d be in meetings together. She’d have no choice but to speak to me.

But how the hell am I going to rally the rest of this group to join me? If I let them leave and Ronan’s offer goes up in smoke, then Elizabeth will go back to ignoring me, and it could be another year before I get her in the same room as me again. I can’t let that happen.

“One year,” I say, and everyone freezes with their eyes on me. “One year,” I repeat, standing from my seat. “I mean…what do we have to lose, right?”

“What’s the point?” Phoenix asks with a tilt of her head.

“The point is…Ronan is right. We could make something great. We all bring something different to the table. Amelia has the design and marketing skills, and West can run the bar. Nix has the business brains. Elizabeth…”

My sister doesn’t turn my way, even after I utter her name. Swallowing my grief, I continue.

“Elizabeth has danced in shows all over Paris. She can head the entertainment.”

“And what about me?” Julian asks from behind me.

Turning away from the table, I stare at him. Standing at my height, I am toe-to-toe with the one guy I can’t stand. The idea of working with him repulses me, but this isn’t about me. It’s about making this harebrained scheme work in hopes of getting my sister back.

For her, I can endure a year with the most pretentious, arrogant, self-absorbed asshole in Paris.

“You, Julian,” I say, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “You’ll be my partner.”

“Your partner?” he asks with a scoff.

“Yeah. You and I will manage it together. And after the year’s up, those of us who want to leave can leave. Then you’ll have it to yourself.”

He scrutinizes me. The room is bathed in awkward tension as we wait for his response. It’s all up to Julian now. The one person who needs this the least. He lives a comfortable existence thanks to his rich inheritance.

We’re at Julian’s mercy now.

His brow furrows as he considers it with a scheming expression.

“Fine,” he says eventually. “I’ll do it.” Quickly, he averts his attention from my face, and I know I should react, but I’m too confounded. I never expected him to actually agree to this.

“Wait, so we’re really doing this?” Phoenix asks.

“I guess we’re really doing this,” I respond.

I look over to my sister, who still won’t look at me. Instead, she smiles softly at Amelia, who is trying to stifle her excitement.

“I’ll get us a round of shots,” Weston announces as he goes to the bar, slipping behind it like he owns the place. And considering most of us grew up here and have known the owner since we were kids, he sort of does.

Meanwhile, the rest of us are still standing around the table.

Low chatter and nervous mumbles fill the space while I let this all sink in.

There’s a twinge of guilt in my gut because I didn’t do this for the club or the others.

I don’t care whether the club thrives or fails, and I don’t genuinely believe Ronan’s message about finding some deeply hidden worth in working together.

These people aren’t my family. My family fell apart the day my wife died.

Now, there’s only one family member I’m concerned about in this room, and I’m doing it for her.

Running this club with Elizabeth means getting to see her and talk to her and hopefully repairing our broken relationship.

Once I do that, I’m taking my daughter back home to California where we belong.

The rest of them can do what they want with the place.

One year. I can get through one year.

Weston returns a moment later with a tray full of shots. Knowing Weston, they’re cheap crowd-pleasers, as if we’re a gang of kids fresh out of college and not a meeting of mature business owners. Judging by the white appearance and sugar-coated rims, I assume they’re Lemon Drops, and I was right.

“To the new club,” Phoenix cheers as she holds one up.

“Wait,” Amelia cries, and we all lower our shot glasses. “Dad said we could rename it. So what should it be?”

The answer comes to me immediately.

“Well, he said our parents created a legacy. So I say we do the same.”

“Legacy,” Phoenix replies with a proud smirk.

“I like it,” Amelia chirps.

“To Legacy,” Weston cheers.

“To Legacy,” the rest of us echo. Then we all throw the shots back, even my sister, who has replaced her angry scowl with an expression that looks vaguely like warmth and hope.

This whole venture will surely be a disaster.

We’ve worked under Ronan and Matis for years, but have we really learned enough to do it on our own?

We don’t have what it takes to recreate what Emerson Grant did nearly thirty years ago.

Maybe if our hearts were in it, we could.

But like Ronan said, we’ve lost our way.

We’re all fighting for something other than this club.

Our motivations go far beyond this business venture. But with any luck, my plan might work.

And just like that, the Legacy is born.