In chaos do we thrive.
The Four Dark Horsemen.
Remi
Grabbing a whiskey from a nearby server, I take a large sip and welcome the burning sensation in my throat while still scanning the club, doing my usual surveillance of the place.
People can do pretty much anything their heart desires in our club as long as it’s consensual and they pay the large amount of money to be allowed to enter.
The more unique the place, the higher the demand, and with demand comes affluent clients who, with the right information, can be blackmailed into doing whatever the fuck you want them to.
Everything in this world is about power, and anyone telling you otherwise never had it.
Our club is considered one of the most luxurious establishments in the country, with guests begging to get onto our waiting list that’s a mile long.
Not one person has ever slipped in here by chance; the list of guests is always reviewed carefully so we know who we are dealing with and what they can offer us should we come to collect.
Although we do pick beautiful women from time to time to have fresh blood for all those willing to pay, but usually Samantha finds those.
We have strict rules everyone has to abide by, and if you ignore them… you’re dead.
The Four Dark Horsemen don’t give second chances.
Despite making us a profit every single year, the money we earn from it is pocket change and hardly makes a difference to our bank accounts. But the club is the perfect cover to use should the police come knocking on our doors and asking for alibis. In addition, it’s a great place to unwind from time to time, but that’s about it.
True monsters don’t need secluded clubs in order to show their vices or indulge in their dark desires, scaring even the bravest of people.
However, I have to say, it’s amusing as fuck to watch people speculate what goes on behind the walls of our club and dream about getting in just to get a glimpse at our lives everyone so covets.
“Remi, glad to see you here.” Samantha rushes to me and taps on her tablet while also nodding at the rest of the guys standing by the bar now, waiting for me to finish and go to the elevators that’ll take us downstairs, where we can discuss my latest action that has brought us to the brink of a war with certain people.
And considering I made all the decisions on my own and didn’t even bother informing them about it, they will be furious and have a lot to say.
The floor below holds our meeting room and individual fuck pads always available if the mood strikes us.
Well, except Santiago’s.
He renovated his and never touches his wife there, something about her being special and all.
As for the rest of us?
We don’t bring women home—what the fuck for? Next thing you know, they’ll start planning a future with you, and the idea is truly hilarious.
There is no future with the likes of us.
Although Santiago intends to prove us wrong. Considering he kidnapped and then blackmailed his wife to marry him, I’m not sure his actions should be what we all blindly follow.
Sam’s voice drags me back to the conversation at hand as I finish my drink and place the glass on the tray. “I sent you the latest report this morning, but I can print it out if you guys want.”
“No need,” I say, wondering when we should give her a raise with all the shit she does here. “Anything else?”
She shakes her head but then speaks up. “Oh yes. We have a VIP guest in number seven. Usually, we have those reserved for you guys, but since the invitation came from the Cortez family, I figured it would be fine.” She blinks nervously at my frown, her hands curling on the tablet, and she adds, “All the other rooms were taken for tonight.”
Invitation from a Cortez?
We’ve owned this club for years, but we never personally invited anyone despite the right to do so.
A guest?