Page 82 of The Contract

I’ll play the last ace up my sleeve. To protect what’s mine. “Fine. But my bouncer stays. He vets everyone who steps foot inside. No exceptions.”

“You expect my guests to wait in line?”

“No,” I reply evenly, patience thinning faster than Antarctic ice. “Your guests are vetted ahead of time. It’s their plus-ones, Keegan.”

I can’t afford the stain of underage girls being auctioned off in a club branded with my name. Growing D’Angelo territory means keeping our name off the goddamned front page.

“A scandal draws unwanted attention to us both,” I grind out.

I could kill another miserable hour bartering. Risk burning down the fragile bridge we’ve barely built.

Honestly, I’d rather blow off my kneecap than spend another minute trapped in this endless negotiation.

I glance at my watch and sweeten the deal.

“I’ll even toss in my own black necklace.”

The ultimate no-holds-barred necklace. A leash granting the winner absolute freedom to indulge every sick, twisted, depraved fantasy on whichever poor, unfortunate girl lands beneath them—for as long as they fucking please.

Or at least as long as she survives.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Mateo’s harsh whisper is a punch to the gut.

I cut him a lethal glare, mouthing, “Shut the fuck up.”

“You actually have one?” Keenan presses, intrigued.

My hesitation unlocks, decision made. “Yes.”

Exactly as expected, he doesn’t miss a beat. “Done.”

The line goes dead.

About fucking time.

I look up at Dillon and Mateo, eyes bulging from their sockets.

Dillon’s punch lands on my arm, hard enough to bruise bone. “This violates everything we’ve built. Everything we stand for.”

“You think I don’t know that?” I rub my arm, glaring.

Mateo looks ready to swing next.

My narrowed glare—a silent promise of irreparable harm to his balls—stops him cold.

He shakes his head instead.

Disgust. Disappointment. Anger.

They’re somehow worse than any punch he’s ever thrown.

“What the actual fuck, Dante?”

“The Keenans have answers about our father’s disappearance,” I say quietly. Desperately. “They control every gateway, every road to the truth. Until now, each one’s been sealed behind steel barricades and razor wire.”

“This isn’t you,” Mateo’s voice slices deeper than it should.

My voice hardens, resolute. “We needed a door. I just kicked one wide fucking open.”

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