Naughty November

Chapter 1

ONE

ROMEO ARES

I entered Club Zenith from the back door, wanting to avoid being seen. It was an overabundance of caution this time of night, but it was a habit I wasn’t willing to break. There were eyes everywhere and I wasn’t going to tempt fate.

I’d built the gentlemen’s club from the ground up and had been involved in every decision made in creating the most luxurious space that catered specifically to the upper echelons of Blackthorne Hollow. It was the only place like it in the city and I ensured it was the place all the local elite men of power wanted to be.

I only ever came for business reasons on a random weekday once a month, after hours, when the closing and cleaning crew were long gone. No one but me and the family knew I owned the high-end, members-only club, and that’s how it would stay. The paper and money trails were buried so deep not even a forensic accountant could find it if they were given breadcrumbs to follow.

I thought back to how it all began. The club had been my rite of passage, as was customary for every firstborn son of the Ares family since the early 1900s—all of us had been expected to start our own lucrative business. There were very few rules as to how or when or where the rite of passage began.

It could start as early as desired, but no later than age twenty-five. The only stipulation was that the business would be impossible to link to the family itself. The deeper the business was buried under private entities and shell corporations, and the more successful the business became, the sooner the son could take over as head of the family.

However, if you failed your rite of passage, you had to start from scratch at the same time as the second-born son was given the chance to start their own business and be in the running for taking over the family. Let’s just say I would not let that happen, even if my younger brother, Lorenzo, had been remotely interested in taking over. He hadn’t been, which was why he’d done everything he could to ensure my success, offering his own expertise if and whenever I might need it.

I’d known from an early age I’d be taking over for my father as the head of the Ares family. But instead of waiting for my rite of passage, I’d learned every important job in our organization from the ground up, starting in my early teens. As a result, regardless of my rite of passage, my eventual takeover had been a given.

The money used to open your rite of passage business always came from your paternal grandfather. My nonno, Giuseppe Ares, had been generous, as we’d always had a special bond. He’d taught me just as much as my father had about our businesses and was the one who had suggested that instead of rushing in and starting a business as soon as possible, that I pace myself to ensure I was ready and successful.

I had waited until I was twenty-five with a master’s degree in business entrepreneurship but had started making plans before undergrad. And the reason I knew even a forensic accountant with breadcrumbs couldn’t find our name tied to the club was because, while I was busy studying business, my brother had been busy with his own useful degree.

Renzo was the family money man and ensured all our businesses operated above reproach—a near impossible task. Thankfully, my youngest brother, Amadeo, held the position of Capo to our soldiers and ensured anyone who even thought about trying to prove our involvement in any illicit activities was severely punished. Depending on how bad their transgressions were, they either had their tongue cut out and were beaten nearly to death or they were tortured and killed. The threat of that was usually enough to keep anyone from fucking with our family.

Everyone who was anyone knew the Ares family name had always been—and would always be—linked to organized crime. Which was why everyone with the Ares name made it their life’s work to ensure there was never any way to prove it. The Ares brothers were a force to be reckoned with, but the rest of our large family had us fully covered as well.

And though I only visited the club once a month—in an official capacity—it was one of the only things that was mine and only mine. And though I knew it would never happen, if anything ever did take down the Ares family, I knew I’d keep Club Zenith running. It was part of me. It was an investment I’d made for my future, whatever it may be.

My employees were protected at all times, so if any club members tried to mess with them, my people knew they would be taken care of. Monitored video surveillance covered every inch of the club, and security was brought in when it was needed. The only surveillance that wasn’t monitored was that of my office and personal space upstairs. I was the only one privy to those recordings.

Loyalty was also a priority, so I paid well, with full benefits and bonuses every year, as well as low-cost childcare, if needed. Club employees knew if something happened to them or one of their family members, we would help get it taken care of.

Happy employees were loyal employees, and loyalty was rewarded handsomely. We had an ever-growing file for employment applications because word got around. And once you were in, you were in for as long as you wanted to be—unless you violated any of the contract stipulations all employees signed off on.

Reaching the private elevator, which was tucked in the back of the club and away from any of the member areas, I placed my hand on a digital pad that scanned my fingerprints and opened the elevator doors. Once I was on the second floor, I placed my hand on an identical digital security pad, unlocking my office door with a soft snick .

The room was large, and when combined with the attached bedroom I occasionally used when I worked too late to drive home; it took up most of the second floor, along with a smaller office for my club manager. I slid into my plush office chair and got to work, glancing over the financial reports and then checking on the information my staff had gathered on my club members that month.

It never ceased to amaze me how much shit my employees were able to find out by simply doing their jobs and listening in while “serving” members in whatever capacity their position entailed. They knew if the information they provided was good enough to use for or against those patrons, a bonus would show up in their checks as soon as action was taken using the information they provided. It was a win-win situation for employees and employer and incentivized them to stay at the club.

Two of my best employees were brother and sister, and they could be mistaken for young teens even though they were both in their mid and late twenties. According to my manager, they’d always hated how young they looked, but as soon as they were hired, they’d become two of my most popular courtesans. They didn’t hate their young appearance so much anymore because their pay, bonuses, and tips from clients allowed them to live a very luxurious life.

The siblings had just dropped a political bomb in my lap. The information I had sitting in front of me was probably the biggest win I’d had in a couple of years. Apparently, Mayor James Moorehouse, who frequented my club more often than he frequented his own home, was into watching underage porn, and had hinted at being an active participant.

He only ever chose the courtesans who looked underage and, according to the siblings, often made them pretend to be very young. It was rather ironic that the mayor who ran on an extremely conservative Christian family values platform turned out to be a pedophile. Ironic, but not surprising. The more you got to know the people of the upper-class elite, the more you found out just how depraved a lot of them were.

He’d been in office three years, which was three years too many, in my opinion. Rubbing my hands together in anticipation, I couldn’t hold back a smirk as l leaned back in my chair, pulled out my phone, and sent a coded message to my cousin Elio, our best computer hacker, who moonlighted as an elite undercover private investigator for many of my club’s clients. It was his way of doing his own information gathering for the family, in addition to verifying what I learned from the club. Action was never taken until he could corroborate the information I got from my employees.

Once Elio had the information, he would get to work gathering all the proof we’d need. He would then leak it to one of the reporters we had in our pocket and I could sit back and wait patiently until the mayor’s house of cards collapsed. I looked forward to getting someone elected as mayor who was already involved in the political dealings of the Ares family. In fact, I had the perfect woman in mind.

As I was putting the phone down on my desk, I got an alert that there was motion detected on the main floor. I knew I’d turned the alarm back on—including the motion sensors on the first floor—when I’d entered from the back, so whoever was moving around would have had to have been inside, hidden out of the cameras’ views, before I’d arrived. I’d have to ensure that security looked into this in case there were blind spots in the club.

Pissed the fuck off and itching to kick the ass of whoever was stupid enough to come into my club, I was up like a shot. Moving to the office door, I drew my gun from the holster at my lower back and headed towards the stairs. I tapped my phone screen a few times, muting any alerts but keeping video surveillance on, and made my way quietly down the dark stairwell until I came to the door that opened beside the elevator in the hidden alcove.

Pausing there on the main level, I brought up the surveillance and checked every camera we had near the bars—and the stockrooms and offices behind each of them—assuming the intruder was trying to break into the safes kept there for shift changes and bank deposits. When I didn’t see anyone, I kept scrolling through the screens until I found the location.

I frowned in confusion as I watched who I thought was a young man—but looked more like a kid—as he changed from what appeared to be a uniform to a set of baby pink sweatpants and a matching cropped hoodie in the men’s locker room. It was hard as hell to shock me, but this? This threw me for a loop. I was pissed he was here, but since it didn’t look like he was trying to steal anything, I wouldn’t beat the shit out of him, at least not much. I’d just rough him up a bit, threaten his life, and kick his ass out.

And then I found myself surprised once more when he got out a fucking toothbrush and toothpaste , of all the fucking things, and brushed his teeth. A moment later, taking it easy on him was the last thing on my mind when I saw him pull out a small baggie, shake out a few pills, and then toss them back with water from the sink.

Looked like he might need a beat-down after all. Breaking and entering was bad enough, but personal drug use in my club was a one-way ticket to being permanently banned. If anyone was going to use drugs at Club Zenith, they were only the best illegal substances money could buy. This meant no one would overdose on street shit, causing issues for the club with emergency services and the police being called in. Slipping my phone into my pocket, I opened the stairwell door and made my way to the locker room near the front of the club.

I pushed the locker room door open and headed towards the back, where I’d last seen him on the camera. He must not have heard me because he was sitting on one of the benches, bent over with his elbows on his knees and his hands gripped tightly behind his neck. I didn’t know what this kid was going through, but he didn’t look like a criminal. He looked like a down on his luck, nowhere to turn, lost young man who was out of options.

I hardened myself to that though because my club was the furthest thing from an option possible. And he was not my problem. I folded my arms over my chest, my gun still clutched in my hand and on full display as I leaned back against the bank of lockers, knowing they’d make enough noise to let this kid know he wasn’t alone.

His body jerked as he sat up with a loud gasp. I straightened in surprise when I saw the beginnings of a black eye on his—admittedly gorgeous—face, which would probably be swollen completely shut come morning. Then he was on his feet, hands out in fearful desperation. He opened his mouth and tried to speak, but what came out was a cross between a garbled mumble and a stutter that I couldn’t understand as tears leaked from his eyes.

Jesus. I scanned the boy from head to toe, realizing he was exactly my type. Stunning, half my size, delicate, emotional, and needy. It had been a long time since I’d had a boy of my own, but I didn’t have time for a beautiful twink in my life right now.

Damn, he’d be a pleasant distraction, though. One I needed badly, with all the shit going on with the family. I never made use of the courtesans in my employ, regardless of the fact they didn’t know I employed them, and running the Ares family didn’t allow for much downtime.

But then I realized where my mind was headed and I was annoyed for thinking, even for a moment, that he was my type and internally rolled my eyes. It was completely irrelevant. This kid needed to get the fuck out of my club. But not until he told me exactly how he’d gotten in and what the fuck he thought he was doing here in the first place.

Tucking the gun inside its holster—knowing he was no threat to me, even if he had been armed—I crossed my arms over my chest again and stood there, staring him down. The little shit had the balls to step closer, using his big brown puppy dog eyes on me, as if that would make any sort of difference. But I knew as soon as the thought crossed my mind that I was wrong. If I wasn’t careful, those pleading eyes might actually draw me in like a moth to a flame.

Fuck me.