Page 33 of The Good Girl Effect (Salacious Legacy #1)

Jack

T he club is empty and quiet during the day.

As I pass through toward the second-level stairs, I hear Weston doing inventory behind the bar.

Amelia is shuffling around with some sort of bright pink fabric draped over her arms. Somewhere in the building, I know my sister and Phoenix are hard at work too.

I pause, admiring how dedicated they all are to this place.

They took Ronan’s message to heart. They’re not just trying to survive the year; they’re working to make Legacy even better than Salacious.

It’s time I did the same.

The club has three levels. The street level, which Matis and Ronan purchased about ten years ago, used to be a restaurant. They’ve since transformed it into a nightclub that hides the one below.

The basement level of the club is where the old club, L’Amour, got its start. It has surprisingly tall ceilings and an open, airy vibe for a place hidden underground.

One floor above the street level club is where we have our meeting spaces and offices. There are also rooms up there that are good for private events and parties.

Reaching the second level, I walk down the hall, passing the offices until I reach Julian’s. He’s sitting behind the desk, his feet propped up on the surface. His attention is on the computer until he notices me standing in his space. Then he freezes and glares at me expectantly.

“Can we talk?” I ask.

I watch the light leave his eyes and his shoulders tense. “Sure.”

Closing his door behind me, I walk into his office and have a seat in the chair across from him.

Suddenly, I can’t stop thinking about what my mother said, about how I was the one with more motive to sabotage Julian and not the other way around.

Have I been doing this unknowingly? Have I ever given a proper moment of actual dedication to this club?

Or did I curse it to fail immediately?

Julian and I are locked in a stare-down as he waits for me to speak. I’m not ready to have a heart-to-heart with him yet, and I still can’t stand the insolent brat, but it’s time we start defining what our priorities are.

I let out a deep sigh.

“You and I and every single person on this team want the club to do well. The problem is us,” I say.

He doesn’t move. Still as a statue, he glares at me. So I continue.

“We can dislike each other all we want, but we can’t keep letting them pay for it.”

“So the minute something goes wrong again, you can just throw me under the bus?” he replies flatly.

I have to clench my fists under the table to settle myself.

“We both failed this club, and we take the fall together.”

“Fine,” he admits, putting his feet on the floor. “What do you suggest?”

“We don’t open tonight,” I say, watching his brows lift in reaction. “In fact, we don’t open for the next four weeks.”

“Four weeks?” he shrieks. “You’re out of your mind.”

“We need to start fresh. Reinvest what little profits we have and give it one last shot.”

“After a whole year, you want to start fresh now ?” he asks.

“It’s our last chance, isn’t it?”

“Do you even care?” he replies. “You’re leaving as soon as the year is up.”

“I do care,” I snap in return. “That’s why I’m here, sitting in your office, trying to come up with a plan to save this place before it’s too late. So are you in or not?”

My tone is impatient and annoyed. But I can tell by the look on his face that he’s at least listening to me.

“Okay, so we close down for four weeks. Then what?” he asks.

“We redesign everything. We’ll bring the team in and do it right. We have to stop treating this like a place to party and turn it into something we can be proud of. A club with class and integrity.”

He rolls his eyes. “You just want to recreate Salacious. Then let them buy it and do it themselves.”

I shake my head. “No, I want something better.”

He shoots me an unimpressed look. “How on earth will you do that?”

“We’re in Paris, Julian. The fucking City of Love. The most goddamn romantic city on the planet. Our club should reflect that. We can bring in people from all over the world and stop treating our club like a place where local people come to get drunk and laid. But we have to do it together.”

He stares at me, and although there’s no real expression on his face, I can see him mulling over the idea. The fact that he’s not shutting it down or replying with some quippy, cutting remark means that he’s excited about it.

Without responding, he reaches into his drawer. I wait as he pulls out a pad of paper, a couple pens, and then a bottle of whiskey.

“It’s a little early to start drinking,” I say, peering down at the two glasses he placed on the desk.

He pours a significant amount into each. “We’re going to need something to take the edge off. Otherwise, I’m afraid we might kill each other before this meeting is over.”

With a shake of my head, I reach for the glass and take a sip. I mean, he’s not wrong.

For the next four or five hours, Julian and I map out an entirely new plan for the club. We don’t leave the room once, and we finish the bottle of whiskey.

To my surprise, we don’t fight as much as I expected. We still disagree and call each other names, but we get the job done. In fact, it's a relief to be able to speak my mind with him and understand him better.

By the time we come out, it’s early afternoon, and we break the news to the rest of the team. We’re not opening tonight. We offer severance to the staff, send them home, and then bring the rest of the owners in to hash out the plan.

It takes hours, day creeping into night. And as I watch the clock march steadily toward midnight, I know it’s time to cut it off.

By the time everyone leaves, there is a new energy in the group.

Even Elizabeth looks happy, smiling at me for the first time in what seems like years.

It feels amazing, but I can’t enjoy it without the harsh, stinging guilt that it should have happened sooner.

It’s my fault that I couldn’t do this for them months ago.

I apprenticed under Matis and Ronan for years. I knew better. I had the keys to making this place succeed all along, but I was too stubborn to make it happen.

But for now, I do my best to shove those feelings aside. We close up the club, turning away the angry partygoers who usually come in around this time.

I stroll alone up the street toward my apartment with my jacket hanging over my arm. I hear the click of heels on the pavement as Phoenix rushes to catch up to me.

“Should I even ask?” she says as she strides up beside me.

“Ask what?” I reply.

“What changed your mind.”

“Can’t I just be in a good mood?” I say, glancing sideways at her with a smirk.

“You?” she asks, aghast. “No.”

“Well, I am,” I reply casually as I walk.

“West said he saw you with a new girl in the club last week. Does that have anything to do with your good mood?” she asks, bumping my side.

“Maybe,” I reply without looking her in the eye.

Phoenix wasn’t there that night because she was with Bea, and Phoenix is the only person, aside from my sister, who would recognize Camille as my nanny.

And my sister doesn’t walk around the club, thankfully.

It’s not the kind of place you want to run into your sister.

If she is there during opening hours, she stays backstage with the performers.

When Phoenix doesn’t respond, I glance her way to find her smiling softly next to me. Out of the blue, she wraps her arm around mine and rests her head on my shoulder.

“What’s up with you?” I ask.

“It’s good to see you smiling again, that’s all.”

My chest warms, hearing her say that. I haven’t always been a broody asshole. Before Em got sick, I didn’t haunt every room I stepped in with gloom and melancholy. I was livelier and happier.

“It’s good to be smiling again,” I mumble as I squeeze her closer.