The King (The Original Sinners: White Years, #2)(45)

woo her.”

“You know a lot about kink in this city.”

“Everyone tells the bartender everything. Plus, I’m kinky.

Does this come as a shock to you?”

Kingsley looked her up and down.

“Not at all. I want people like us at the club. I want all

of our kind welcome here—gay and straight, bi, as long as

they’re kinky. We’ll need professional male dominants, too.

A few bouncers.”

“Then you’ll need some of the leather guard,” she said.

“What else?”

“Pro-submissives—male and female.”

“Those will be harder to find. There’s ads for dominatrixes

in the goddamn phone book, but pro-subs? How many people do you know who want to get the shit beat out of them

for a living?”

“Enough of them do it for free. They might as well get

paid for it.”

“What else?” Sam asked. “If it’s an S and M club, I guess

we’ll need some sadists.”

“I have one sadist already. Not on the payroll, but he’ll cer

tainly bring the pain, out of the kindness of his heart.” “Is he good?”

“He can slice a lit cigarette in half with the tip of a whip.

But we’ll need more than one. There are more masochists in

this city than you would believe.”

“With rent as high as it is, I’d say we’re all masochists.” He stood in front of her and looked at her without smiling. “This might get ugly,” Kingsley said. “I do ugly things

in my work sometimes. If you work for me, you’ll get your

hands dirty.”

“I like dirty.”

“Illegal things may or may not happen.”

“I have an amazing ability to look the other way.” “I’ll never put you in harm’s way, but I will put myself

there.”

“You’re a grown-up,” she said. “Just make sure my paychecks don’t bounce.”

“I pay in cash,” he said.

“This is the greatest job ever. Let’s do it.”

“This is our kingdom.” He waved his hand, indicating the

hotel. “Or will be when I’m done with it.”

“But Fuller beat us to it. It’s sold.”

“I’ll buy it from him. And if he won’t sell, I’ll steal it.” “That’s not a good idea,” Sam said in a stern voice. “Seriously. Politicians suck up to Reverend Fuller all the time just

so he’ll tell his TV f lock to donate to their campaigns. He’s

famous. He’s important. And he will not be happy if you f*ck

with him.”

“Do you want his church in this town?” Kingsley asked. “No,” she admitted. “I hate his church.”

He looked at her through narrowed eyes.

“Tell me why you’re on my side,” Kingsley ordered. Sam

didn’t answer at first.

Finally she spoke.

“The Fullers… Their church… They run reorienting

camps.”

“What are those?”

“It’s where they send gay kids to try to turn them straight.” “That can’t be legal,” Kingsley said, eying her with horror. “It’s legal. There are hundreds of kids at those camps right

now.”

“That gives me even more reason to f*ck with him.” Sam sighed. “I was afraid of that.”

“Sam, I dreamed of this building. I recognized it the second I saw the picture in the paper. This is fate.”

“Fate is a bad thing. Fate is why Oedipus screwed his

mother and lost his eyeballs.”

“My mother is dead. I’ll get a guide dog. I always wanted

a dog.”

“You’re crazy. You’re going to buy his church from Reverend Fuller and turn it into an S and M club?”

“You know you love this idea. Admit it.”

“Get back at Fuller and his f*cking church? Let’s do it.” “Keep that bottle of champagne I bought tonight.” “Why?”

“We’ll drink it together, you and I, on opening night.” “I serve at your pleasure, Your Majesty.” She gave him a

mock bow.

“Good,” Kingsley said. “Now let’s build a kingdom.”





15


KINGSLEY WAS DISAPPOINTED BUT NOT SURPRISED when Fuller’s ministry refused to sell the Renaissance to him. He upped his offer, and they turned it down f lat. He tried buying the building through one of his more legitimate fronts, a fake travel agency he “owned” as a way to manage excess cash f low, and Fuller still wouldn’t sell.

Time for Plan B.

“What’s Plan B?” Sam asked as she f lipped a page on her clipboard. For a week, she’d been working for Kingsley, and so far she’d done everything he’d told her to do in a timely and efficient manner. He’d told her to go buy a computer if she wanted one. Instead, she kept his entire life in order on her clipboard.

“Plan B is blackmail,” Kingsley said as he took a seat behind his desk. “We need dirt on the Fullers. Real dirt.”