My employee is a st...

TRISTAN

“Your grandfather, pardon me for saying this is a royal bastard.”

Julian’s voice carried too much amusement for my liking as he lounged in the leather armchair across from my desk, one ankle slung lazily over his knee, a glass of whiskey dangling from his fingers.

“You do not need permission to call him what he is,” I replied dryly, setting aside the document I had been scanning. Contracts, endless contracts. Even in death, the old man’s claws were sunk deep into this company. “He was a bastard. He died a bastard. And somehow, even from the grave, he manages to remain one.”

Julian’s grin widened. “Which brings us to the elephant in the will.”

I did not bother asking which part. We both knew.

“The marriage clause,” I said, my tone flat.

“Yes. Six months to produce a bride or risk, what was it? oh yes, risk losing control of Obsidian.” Julian swirled his glass. He was enjoying this far too much.

“Tell me, Tristan, how do you plan to humor that little demand? Speed-dating? Matchmaking agencies? Or shall I put in a request to the socialites of the city? I know at least six who would be on their knees before you even finished saying your name.”

I shot him a sharp look. “I do not plan to humor it at all.”

Julian barked a laugh. “So you are going to spit in the grave of dear Grandfather Blackwell by ignoring the one condition he cared enough to put in writing?”

I leaned back in my chair, folding my arms. “There is no one else who can run Obsidian Innovations…absolutely no one. At the end of the day the company belongs to me whether my grandfather liked it or not.”

Julian raised his glass in a mock toast. “The arrogance is astounding. Admirable, even. But, Tristan… let us be honest. He is dead, and still controlling your every waking moment. You are seething because he left you a leash and you hate the feel of it around your throat. You know damn well you have to humor that clause and he made sure of it by including that if it is not done in six months, the company be liquefied and given to charity”

My grandfather was a royal bastard alright and Julian was not wrong. I could not ignore his wishes as much as I wanted to.

Julian leaned forward, setting his glass on the table with a soft clink. “Which is precisely why I am dragging you out tonight.”

“Dragging me out?” I arched a brow.

“Yes. You need to take the edge off, Tristan. There is only so long you can glower at your laptop and pretend you are not furious. And lucky for you, I have just opened a little sanctuary that might interest you.”

I gave him a pointed look. “A brothel?”

He smirked. “A club, Tristan. Name is Velour and it is very private. The kind of place people go to when they have problems like yours. You could use it, friend”

I exhaled slowly, my patience thinning. “I don’t have time to waste on your indulgences.”

“You don’t have time not to.” Julian rose, straightening his jacket with a flourish. “Come, Tristan. For once in your miserable life, step outside your cage. Or shall I remind you again that you are still letting your grandfather dictate your every move, even from six feet under?”

That did it. My eyes narrowed. “Fine. One drink.”

Julian grinned like he had won a war. “One drink, a few hours, and a memory you won’t regret.”

…

Velour pulsed with life the moment we stepped inside. The scent of expensive perfume and money mixed in the air. There were soft velvet drapes cascading from the ceiling and crystal lights shimmered from the chandeliers dangling from the ceiling. If there was one thing Julian knew how to do, it is make a statement.

Patrons sat in private alcoves, masked women drifting like shadows between tables.

Julian spread his arms like a king presenting his kingdom. “Welcome to Velour.”

I scanned the room, my expression unreadable, though internally I noted everything: exits, security placement, the rhythm of the crowd. Old habits die hard. “Another playground for men with too much money and too little self-control.”

Julian clapped me on the shoulder. “Call it what you will but tonight, it is necessary for you.” He gestured to a corridor draped in crimson velvet. “I have arranged a private room. My treat. You deserve it after surviving the old bastard for so long.”

“I do not need a…”

“You don’t get a say,” Julian cut me off smoothly. “I am sending you my best girl. Consider it… a distraction.”

Against my better judgment, I allowed him to lead me into the private lounge. The room was dim and a single armchair sat at the center of the room. The music beyond the door softened, replaced by something lower, sultrier.

Julian smirked as he poured me a drink from the crystal decanter on the side table. “Relax. Trust me and you will be thanking me later.”

He left me with the whiskey and the silence.

A moment later, the door opened again.

A woman walked in. She was masked and the silk dress she wore clung to her  like a second skin. The mask covered half of her face leaving her mouth… full lips painted red that made my cock twitch.

“Hello, my name is violet and I will be dancing for you” She called out, her voice washing over me.

It sounded as sexy as she looked.

I said nothing as the music swelled and she began to dance.

Her movements were graceful, elegant. Every sway of her hips sent tremors down my spine. She was not just performing a dance… she was commanding the room… bewitching me.

I leaned back in the chair, trying to get myself under control.

There was something about the way she moved that was almost like she was daring me to rise and please her… like I was her servant and she, my master.

When she arched her back smoothly and the eyes behind the mask stared at me in the dark, blood roared in my veins, filling my cock to hardening.

I rose from where I sat and approached her.

What did Julian say about her being his best girl?

“Take off the mask,” I growled low in my throat.

She froze, her back turned to me.

“That is against…”

“I do not give a fuck… I want to see your face.”

Her full lips pressed into the faintest line. “It is against the rules”

Rules, I thought... I had never cared much for them.

“How much will it cost to see your face”

“I am sorry, mister but…”

“Ten thousand dollars.” I cut her off.

Her breath caught, I noticed, though she tried to hide it. Ten thousand was no small sum, but to me it was pocket change. To her? Likely the kind of money that could change her year.

The hesitation was brief and for a moment, I thought she would not do as I asked but her fingers reached for the mask on her face and she slid it off.

“Turn around, Violet” I commanded.

She hesitated for a second before she turned to fully face me.

A gasp escaped her lips as she fell back.

I could feel the blood pounding in my veins.

Who would have bloody thought?

“Well, well… Ms Cross” I murmured. “Fancy seeing you here”

Her mouth parted in open shock and I?

I had never been more entertained.