| BOOK SIX | THE LONDON CRIME KING | A DARK MAFIA ROMANCE NOVEL |
This book contains adult language and subject matter, including graphic violence, drugs and explicit sex that may be disturbing to some readers.
This series is NOT a typical romance...
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Club 11 is unprecedentedly quiet this morning. Uniformed employees waited on empty tables, and tailored guards lounged in leather booths. Two female customers sat at the long-stretched bar, enjoying a round of coffee and gourmet English-style breakfast. One scruffy-looking male by the abandoned podiums, who engaged in dreamy contemplation, looked as though he'd slept rough on the streets last night.
Walking through the main dance room with the reservations of a discombobulated man, I paused by the door labelled employees only to re-evaluate the extremity of vast emptiness. Yes, the club's "hustle and bustle" is calmer during the day compared to the dark hours because nocturnal pleasure-seekers come out at night, but vacantness, at any hour, is completely out of the ordinary.
The top floor, however, is swamped with rumbustious dancers dressed in casual clothes: T-shirts, jeans, boots and jackets. It is odd to see the girls togged up in anything but ostentatious glamour.
As I only visited the club periodically, I was not up-to-date with everyone's work schedules or possible changes in the workplace. Naturally, I meandered forward in a state of further confusion.
"Good morning, peasants," I joked, and canned laughter replenished the air. "What have I missed?"
"Emergency testing." Cherry, flanked by beaming co-workers, stood in line by the private medical room. "One of the girls called in sick last night. Chlamydia."
My brows jumped to my hairline. "No shit?"
"Yep." Cherry hummed emphatically. "She caught it off one of our regulars, too."
Club 11 paid concierge doctors to test the girls every month in a safe, non-judgmental environment to prevent the spread of venereal diseases. Routine testing is professional, strictly confidential and comes hand-in-hand with prostitution to protect the girls and the clients. It is very rare that one of our sex workers came into contact with a sexually transmitted disease, though.
"That's what happens if you go bareback with male whores." Cora examined her manicured fingernails with a bored expression. "I bet her client fucked multiple women this week, and now she has to pay the price."
"She would have consented to unprotected sex," I explained to Cora, and Cherry made a disagreeable sound in the back of her throat. "Did I miss something?"
"I have not encountered one moralist while working at the club." Cherry's sly smile turned at the corners of her lips. "Most clients think 'no' means 'keep trying' until they achieve. The girls are often targets of violent crime."
"Is that an accusation?" I asked in a terse tone. "If you know something, tell me. I will handle it."
"Some of the men can get heavy-handed," she said, and I made a mental note to look into this week's visitation list. "They want to fuck without anything between us. It feels good for them. No is not always enough."
