Page 27 of The Good Girl Effect (Salacious Legacy #1)

Jack

“ S tay here,” I order Camille as I shove her behind me.

A fight has broken out somewhere in the club, creating pure chaos on the floor. If people aren’t running from the fight, they’re running to it, phones drawn and ready to record.

What a fucking mess.

I push through the crowd to eventually find two men brawling on the floor. Everyone around them is cheering or recording as if this is some sort of sick sport.

Glancing up over the two men, I make eye contact with Julian. My teeth are clenched and my nostrils flared as I glare at him, his expression mimicking mine.

“Break it up!” I shout, reaching down to drag the man on top off the other.

“Everyone back up!” Julian bellows. He starts pushing people away from the circle as I hold the men apart.

Finally, security shows up to handle the crowd. Once the two men are detained, I march over to the bar and slam my fist against it. “Shut it down.”

Weston puts up his hands in surrender. “I wasn’t planning on serving anymore.”

“What are you doing?” Julian argues. “We can’t shut it down. It’s only eleven!”

Spinning on him, I jab a finger against his chest. “I told you we were over capacity. I told you we had to limit alcohol and prohibit phones, but you wouldn’t fucking listen.”

“You know everything, Jack. Sorry, I forgot!” He replies in a huff.

Ignoring Julian’s immature argument, I turn back toward Weston and reiterate, “Shut it down.”

“Yes, boss,” he replies, which irks me, but I don’t have time to deal with that. I need to get this place cleared out before something really bad happens.

“Help me get everyone out of here,” I say to Julian. “We have a liability on our hands.”

“I’m not shutting it down just because one little fight broke out,” he replies with his arms over his chest.

“One little fight?” I can’t believe what I’m hearing. “Julian, we almost had a riot.”

“You’re being overdramatic.”

“And you’re being a child,” I snap, regretting it as soon as it leaves my mouth.

I just wish I understood why Julian is the way he is. Arrogant, inconsiderate, selfish.

I don’t fault his father for this. I think it’s just the world in which he was raised. His parents are good people. His mother is a fucking saint. But without meaning to, they raised one hell of a spoiled brat.

Turning away from the bar, I work to usher the guests out of the club. After making my way over to the DJ booth, I motion with my hand across my throat, telling him to cut the music. A moment later, the room is bathed in silence, the only sound the collective boos from the crowd.

When I turn back, I find Julian helping with a disgruntled expression on his face.

I work my way to the edge of the crowd along the wall and through the door to the backstage area. My sister is stomping angrily with a look of rage on her face.

I’m quite certain there is nobody meaner on this planet than Elizabeth, and I’m not just saying that as her big brother. Judging by the look on her face, whoever is on security tonight has just been subjected to a massive serving of her fiery rage.

She stops in front of me with her hands on her hips. “You need to get this place under control,” she barks. “I can’t subject dancers to this, Jack.”

“I’m handling it,” I argue.

“Are you?” she replies with a tilt of her head. “Or are you just fighting with Julian?”

Speak of the devil, he suddenly appears behind me, staring at Elizabeth with a flat expression.

She points a stern finger at both of us as if I’m not nearly ten years older than her. “You two need to get over your bullshit and learn how to work together before someone gets hurt!”

With that, she shoves past both of us, stomping away on a mission.

The entire reason I took on this club last year was to work alongside my sister and hopefully repair the broken relationship between us. And nearly that entire year has gone by with very few words and absolutely no progress. But it’s not something I can focus on right now.

She’s right.

I turn toward the man at my side and let out a sigh. “Help me empty this place out.”

“I don’t take orders from you,” he replies coldly.

Tired of his shit, I grab him by the collar and shove him hard against the wall. He doesn’t seem the least bit surprised. Glaring through half-closed eyes, he glowers at me as I get in his face.

“I don’t know what the fuck your problem is,” I bellow. “But I have people here who I actually fucking care about, and I will not rest until this shithole is empty and they are safe, understand?”

He pushes me away, straightening his tie. “It’s always about you, Jack. Everything is about you.”

“Fuck you, Julian.”

“No, fuck you, Jack.”

With that, he turns on his heels and marches away. I’m left huffing in anger.

When I leave the backstage hallway, I find Camille standing where I left her. Her brows are lifted, and her arms are wrapped around herself, and it kills me to see her looking scared. Rushing over to her, I place my hands on her arms.

“Go home. I have to clean this up.”

“I can help,” she mumbles softly.

At the sound of her voice, I wince. Just a few minutes ago, I wanted to hear her speak. But right now, with everything falling apart, I bristle at the sound.

“No,” I say sternly. “You need to get home. It’s late.”

I watch as she chews on her bottom lip, and I can tell she doesn’t want to leave me.

Truth be told, I don’t want her to leave me either.

In only the past few weeks, I’ve become accustomed to her nearness in a way that surprises me.

I don’t want distance between us. The way it feels to be in her presence is like a drug to me, and I can’t get enough.

But right now, I have work to do.

“Go,” I say again, and finally, she nods and obeys.

It takes Julian and I nearly three and a half hours to clear the club. By the end of the long and grueling night, I can’t bear to look into his eyes, or anyone else’s for that matter.

I feel like a failure. Everything Camille and Elizabeth said stings with truth. I was supposed to instill faith and guidance in everyone but most of all my sister. She can still hardly stand me.

As Julian and I reach the top floor of the now-empty club, we freeze as we come face-to-face with Matis.

Matis was the original owner of L’Amour, which he opened nearly thirty years ago in his early twenties. And although he gifted the club to us just one year ago, he’s stuck around as a bit of a mentor for the rest of us.

And judging by the very disappointed look on his face, he’s not happy. I don’t blame him.

“What happened?” he asks in his thick French accent. “Capacity should only be three fifty, and I hear you were over five hundred.”

From the corner of my eye, I can see Julian’s jaw clench. He won’t admit it was his fault, and at this point, there’s no reason to throw blame.

“You know better,” Matis says, pointing his glare at me.

“It was a long night, Matis. Let’s talk about it tomorrow.” I try to walk past him, and he places a hand on my chest, shoving me back.

“No, we talk about it now.”

Exhausted, Julian and I collapse into the chairs of a nearby table. Matis pours himself a drink and comes over at a leisurely pace. When he sits across from us, it’s as if I’m about to be scolded like a child, and I hate it.

“Shouldn’t we call in the others?” Julian asks.

Matis takes a sip of his drink and shakes his head. “You two are the problem,” he says flatly.

“Us?” Julian asks.

I don’t bother responding because I know he’s right.

“You two were supposed to be the leaders. Partners, remember? But you make terrible partners.”

“We don’t get along,” I reply coolly.

“You don’t have to get along. You don’t have to even like each other. Because it’s not about you , it’s about the club. But you’ve both sabotaged that to get back at each other. And that’s not fair to anyone.”

With my elbows on the table, I rub my brow. “I have been trying to tell him we need stricter enforcements and more control over capacity, but he won’t?—”

“Enough,” Matis barks, so I stop speaking. He looks exhausted too as he leans back in his chair. All of this is such a mess, and I hate the disappointment on his face. Suddenly, I’m very glad Ronan isn’t here to see this. Matis’s disappointment, I can handle. But my godfather’s…

Suddenly, I remember Phoenix’s words in the office that day. What if Ronan was wrong about us?

It pains me that she somehow thinks any of this was her fault. Or Weston’s or Amelia’s or Elizabeth’s. Because it was never any of their fault. It was mine.

“If I didn’t know any better,” Matis adds, looking at Julian this time, who is sulking silently in the seat next to me, “I’d say you’re purposefully trying to sabotage this club.”

“Why would I do that?” he replies.

“I don’t know,” Matis says in a calm tone. “To ruin something your father loved. To make Jack look bad.”

Julian scoffs but doesn’t reply. I stare at him with my brows pinched, suddenly wondering if either of those could be true. I’ve never known Julian to have a strained relationship with his father, so the first one seems strange, but to make me look bad…

That does make sense.

But who am I to judge? Haven’t I done the same?