IX.
Kane Romanov sipped at his rum-on-the-rocks until he was suitably drunk. He had another meeting scheduled at the Luxe and the choice in scenery displeased him. Sebastian had insisted on the location, having regularly enjoyed the company of the paid girls, as well as the other facets in which the private lounge could offer.
Kane regarded the entirety of the Moreau family poorly and was angered at the task. His father had expected him to be a sort of well-mannered diplomat. Given the elder-man's own ungovernable temperament, he thought the arrangement to be foolish.
"Another glass, Mr. Romanov?" a tawdry dancer asked him.
The striking man nodded as he lit a Lonsdale cigar. The lounge hadn't been as populated as it had been during his last occupational visit and he sought the company of the Stomsvik heiress.
A full glass was delivered to him promptly. The dancer had known of his formidable countenance and had tried her best to please him.
"The oyster plate and prawns will be out shortly," another dancer cooed; for, despite his anger, he was a captivating man and had innately demanded the attention of the entire staff of girls'.
"That will be all until my company arrives," Kane told her brusquely. He had hoped to discourage their attention— though the dancers still remained within the lounge, their titterings discernable.
"Ah, Romanov; I didn't expect a visit from you."
Kane eyed Dmitry Kuznetsov from over the rim of his glass, the smoke from the Lonsdale cigar blackening his approach. He had hoped the man to be busied with his escorts and prostitutes, causing his presence within the lounge to be vastly ill-received.
Afon strolled in slightly behind him, his manner cavalier. He plopped himself within a nearby seat and leaned over in an attempt to steal his cigar. Kane grasped his brother's wrist tautly and the younger man snickered, knowing well that he wouldn't care for the brazen, little display.
Dmitry had hoped for a tussle, though the sizable difference in stature between the two brothers had proven to be disparaging, Kane being of the largest: with his solid chest and brawny, well-built arms taut against his dress-shirt.
"Waiting on that Moreau bastard?" Afon asked him, instead. He took a long drink from an imported bottle of beer in which he had brought from the bar.
Kane angled his neck to the side, the cigar within his mouth.
"You needn't even ask him," Dmitry chuckled; for he knew of Kane's antithetical conduct. He shared the same immoral proclivities as the rest of the men within the cartel, though his choice in women had been exclusive to models and those of premium status. The Kuznetsov man had found this selectiveness to be ungodly; for he, himself, had enjoyed the company of varieties of vixens.
The youngest Romanov had also shared this unbiased appreciation and Dmitry had enjoyed his ready participation; for Afon had become useful in managing his large cast of escorts. This partnership had been a blessing for him; being an associate of the Romanov family had provided him with countless benefits.
The plate of oysters and prawns was delivered and Kane remained irritable; for Sebastian hadn't yet arrived to talk of their matters and his brother and associate presently dined on the meal, uninvited.
"That fucker has always been known to be disrespectfully late," Afon stated, slurping a prawn from its shell.
Kane buried the cherry of his waned cigar within the dish, openly ill-hearted. He ordered another plate of shellfish, his temples sore; for he had rubbed at the flesh rather roughly. "Another rum," he demanded.
A dancer gifted the handsome man with an additional drink and he finished it in its entirety.
"Helena informed me that your client was in a previous engagement with that Stomsvik girl," Dmitry stated, pausing between short bites. He had mentioned this fact deliberately; for he took joy in stoking Kane's short temper.
"It was his taste for dirty kiska," Afon told them lewdly, in reference to the foiled betrothal. "He accepts even our most well-trodden whores. Disgusting fucker."
Dmitry was tickled further.
The eldest Romanov only smiled; for he knew Sophia to be devoutly catholic and, thus, innocently still a virgin. Dmitry had only mentioned this fact to deter him, though Kane's desire for her remained.
Afon removed a cuff-bracelet from his slacks pocket. Dmitry recognized it to be that of the heiress', though Kane was promptly unaware; for he hadn't bore witness to the entire scene beside the downtown fountain. The Kuznetsov man mused thoughtfully; as Afon still challenged Kane for the heiress and he wished to help in stirring the pot.
Soon after, Sebastian Moreau arrived. He recognized the cuff immediately; for the gifted jewelry had been custom crafted by a high-end designer in France. He chose not to comment, however, having been quickly greeted by a trio of lace-clad dancers.
"Alena; Nastasya; how great it is to see you— and Ivory. You ladies look stunning. How long has it been since I've last visited?"
Kane's demeanor was that of utter contempt; as Afon and Dmitry had exhausted much of his patience. "We have much to discuss," he told him.
"The women will be happy to indulge you after you've finished," Dmitry assured, choosing to shift to the role of a well-mannered peacemaker.
The Moreau man sat beside Kane, while Afon and Dmitry excused themselves. His stare had settled briefly on the ravaged plate of oysters and prawns; then, on the cuff, still sitting upon the table; before regaining a small sense of focus.
"I have called you here today to discuss your family's partnership with Aleksander Stomsvik. My father has informed me of his lack of cooperation, in matters concerning payment."
Sebastian remained tight-lipped.
"He and Harvey Maxim are of the family's closest 'associates'," he continued, in gentle reference to their roles of high-stake launderers. The Romanov's sullied money cycled through their private enterprises, establishing them as well-worn conspirators.
"Well, of course; Aleksander and Harvey are very much close friends of the family. My father hasn't mentioned payments to ever have been an issue. Stomsvik is a man of good word."
"He was late on a large deposit. Sources say he is on an excursion to Dubai. Has your father remained in contact?"
Sebastian took a sip from his provided drink and stared at Kane rather wearily. "I don't recall that he has."
"Do me the favor of asking," Kane stated pointedly.
Sebastian had been known to avoid the discussion of topics directly. "I'm sure old man Al' has just lost his wallet out in some exotic brothel. A winsome, little prostitute likely stole his cash and phone. Why worry?"
"Circumstances lead the incident to appear underhanded."
Sebastian was suddenly snide. "His daughter has remained in the states. No liquidation of assets. Surely this lack of punctuality is explainable once Aleksander is able to be reached."
Kane scoffed balefully; for it was uncharacteristic of Sebastian to get defensive. "Oh?"
Sebastian glanced nervously at the cuff-bracelet, fearing he'd said too much.
"I am sure we will settle this transgression of Aleksander's soon," Kane stated.
Associates to the Romanov family knew well of the consequences involved in cheating cartels and Kane bothered not to ingeminate. He did, however, grasp the Moreau man's shoulder. He locked his fist tightly, confirming this indomitable truth.
"Enjoy your whores, Sebastian," he said bitingly, noticing the man's hand shake as he lifted the lid of a box of Crown Maximus cigars.
He departed the upstairs lounge and out towards his favorite restaurant; as he was hungry and hadn't the patience to wait for the second dish of shellfish. He distasted the vixens and Luxe lounge, anyway. To him, it was a disgrace.
As he approached a Russian Bistro, named after its owner and friend: Petrov's, the dark-haired man took a seat at his regular table and ordered the most expensive entrée.
He sipped at a gifted bottle of rum and watched as the waiter poured him another.
"I was hoping that you would stop by."
Kane halted grouchily; for he recognized the soft, honeyed voice. "Tabitha. You are at my regular restaurant, I see. Is my sister with you?"
"She was. She's hooking up with the young hostess in the coat-check closet," the model informed him cheerfully. She had taken her seat beside him, nescient of his current ill-countenance.
Kane stared at the woman morosely. He had hoped to have further progressed his claim of the Stomsvik heiress, though his prospects remained rather demoralizing. "Let me fuck you," he told the model salaciously.
She hastily obliged and Kane ate his dinner, then brought her to a hotel-room suite.
◊
Lacey had begun to become fine-tuned to the favors she was asked of.
In exchange for dressing in tawdry sets of lace and lingerie, Dmitry had given her access to the Vixen Lounge and endless shots of vodka. Or, on special occasions: tall, crystal glasses of imported champagne. Often times, long nights accompanying him and his friends were all that he would ask for. Just as the other girls, there would be nights, however, in which more would be required of them.
Lacy danced in the lap of a businessman perkily. He was older and smelled of soap and aftershave, though the girl didn't mind; for she could see Dmitry held her favor and would send subtle stares her way.
Presently: he puffed soulfully at a large cigar, talking to a regular business partner and watching as she danced.
The man beneath her snuck a stout finger beneath her garter and she redirected him promptly. His finger returned once more, ending in the same result. It wasn't long before a petite dancer with short, black hair took a seat beside her. She offered her a shot, having been prodded by Dmitry to aid her.
Lacy didn't care much for 'Fantasia' and remained stubborn; for she enjoyed playing with Dmitry and awaited his attention.
Despite this, the aptly named dancer introduced herself to the businessman beneath them. "Hi there, honey. What a nice bourbon."
The business man jeered greedily, enjoying the sentiment of the two petite girls in his company. The private lounge was well-populated and most men had yet to be serviced. "I'd offer you a sip, but you're much too young and sweet to enjoy such a gentleman's drink."
Lacy agreed; as bourbon had been what her father and uncle had drank.
"I love a Full Monty," Fantasia stated flirtingly.
The man hummed huskily. "And you?" he questioned Lacy, his mouth within his drink, "What is your favorite cocktail? A Silk Panty?
Lacy was unresponsive and pouty; for Dmitry hadn't yet joined them.
"Mm, it's Ménage á Trios, I bet. Right, dear?"
A familiar hand was suddenly upon her, pushing between her lips. "Glotat'."
Lacy swallowed the pill that had been placed in her mouth, eager to please Dmitry. It mixed with the buzz of liquor and soon she resigned to the feeling of club music and Fantasia kissing her softly.
"I'd like them both for tonight," the old businessman told Dmitry.
Cash was exchanged between them, though Lacy paid little notice; for the other dancer directed her and had occupied her with kissing her breasts.
Dmitry stayed with them provisionally, finding an available suite behind a large wall of curtains. The act was over shortly and Lacy was glad, for the pill had caused her to succumb to her buzz more fervently.
"Drink a shot with me?" Lacy approached Dmitry as soon as she had finished.
The tall, Russian man grinned down at her from over his luxury scotch-glass. "Perhaps once you've done some more dancing," he suggested to her firmly.
He wasn't as striking as Kane Romanov, Lacy thought, though his fair hair and features captured her still. "I don't want to anymore. I want to join you."
"Don't whine," Dmitry told her sharply.
Lacy obeyed, strutting to another table within the lounge drunkenly. She found another man in which she could service; then returned to the curtains, rendering herself to the haze.
It was within the same hour that she noticed a familiar guest: Sophia's former fiancé, Sebastian Moreau. She found herself slurring, hoping to greet him as he retrieved a decorative box from within his slacks-pocket.
"Come here, honey," Fantasia directed.
Another dancer, Baby, had joined them as well.
Heavily under the influence, Lacy obeyed; but not before commenting on the man's choice of cigar— A luxury import: Crown Maximus, Family Reserve.
◊