2. Jordan

There were no bad areas of East Dremest, but there were less desirable sections. This was a city, after all. While a creek divided it in half, the entire city was much better than others. On the eastern side of Pennsylvania, north of Philadelphia, Dremest was named after the Dremest family, each generation working hard to keep their businesses running and a prominent name for themselves.

The elder Dremests were retired with their sons taking over their businesses. Dexen had his hands full with not only his own ventures, but the ones he took on from his father. His brother, Xaiden, was in the same boat. Both men were working their asses off. I had to respect them for that.

West Dremest was where most of their businesses were. Dexen had some on the eastern side of the city. The other family who ruled West Dremest was my blood. Perry Altair Jr., or as I called him, Junior. My brother, Perry Sr., passed away years ago from a massive stroke, leaving everything to his son. I saw Junior occasionally, but we weren't close, never had been.

My brother and I had kept to our sides of the city, given how different our lives were. It wasn't that we didn't care for one another. We simply went in opposite directions. The division had remained over the years, with me maintaining my hold on East Dremest while my nephew and the Dremests mostly kept to the western side.

As we drove through the streets of my domain, I took in every aspect, like I always did. If something was happening here, I wanted to know about it. There weren't skyscrapers in Dremest. This wasn't a city as large as Philadelphia or New York. I preferred it that way. It was easier to keep my finger on the pulse when it was smaller.

We were venturing toward an area where the residents didn't have as much money and the building facades reflected it. The funds I regularly donated to the improvement of the city were slowly working their way here. I saw it as we went from where there was construction and fresh growth to where nothing happened outside of people getting through each day, doing the best they could.

The car stopped in front of a building that had seen better days. White paint peeled from the stucco of the three-story dwelling. There weren't any signs out front to say this was a business. Just a number—five sixty-five—in black wrought iron with the second five hanging askew.

"Are you sure this was the address you were given, sir?" Albert asked. He was nearing seventy and his hair was gray but neatly combed. His black suit disguised the strength he held. To others, Albert appeared as more of a grandfather driving me around. The reality was, he was very capable and could handle himself with ease. I didn't have weak people around me when I went out. There was power in numbers and everyone with me had to be more than capable of neutralizing a threat. Albert was no exception.

Opening the email on my phone, I found the information Tristan had sent to verify this was the location I was told to meet Hartley Weathers at. I'd thought he would be in a better area, given how Tristan had described him with his nice clothes, trimmed facial hair, and sharp gaze. Then again, I knew better than to judge a book by its cover. People weren't always as they seemed. I was. I needed others to fear me.

"Yes," I replied. "This is it."

I heard doors close outside, my guards exiting their vehicle. It wasn't that I couldn't take care of myself. I had to be armed and didn't slack on making sure I was in shape. But I was still one man with a sea of enemies looking to take me out. It would be foolish if I traveled by myself. I might as well draw a target on my back and stand in the middle of the city if I did that.

Exiting the vehicle, I straightened my suit jacket and waited for Reghan and Raiden to flank me. They were twin brothers and able to fight in sync.

Before walking up the handful of stairs to the door, it opened to reveal a man standing in the doorway. My breath caught the moment I saw him, but I kept putting one foot in front of the other, needing to get to him so I could see him up close.

Shorter than me by roughly half a foot with light brown, wavy hair trimmed neatly and a matching beard cropped close to his face, he captivated me. Brown eyes held mine as he peered up, not cowering in the least. It turned me on. Few could look me in the eye and hold it without a bit of a tremor running through them.

"Mr. Altair, it's nice to meet you." He held out his hand. "I'm Hartley Weathers."

I took his hand in mine, noting the calluses most likely from his trade. "Mr. Weathers, thank you for having me."

He released my hand and stepped back. "Please, come in. I assure you there are no threats in here," he added as he looked my guards over.

"That may be, but you'll understand if I have them sweep the area before I go farther. Once they're finished, one will wait outside while the other will stay near the door inside with us. This isn't a lack of trust, Mr. Weathers. Simply me covering my bases like I always do."

He nodded, but I didn't miss the way his jaw remained clenched. He didn't like my men in his space. That was too bad for him.

Reghan and Raiden went through the building, all three floors, to make sure there was no one lying in wait to harm me. As they did, I thought back to the list of rules Hartley had emailed Tristan before he agreed to work with me.

1. I will be the one to handle this request, not anyone on my team.

2. Every fitting will be done in my studio.

3. Half of the payment will be made up front before the designs are tailored to Mr. Altair's needs. The balance will be paid upon completion.

4. I do not wish to be stressed. I will lay out the timetable to handle his request and ensure it's done in a timely manner. Organization is key.

5. I'm only agreeing to one suit to start. Afterward, we can reevaluate to ensure we'd both like to move forward with more.

6. If at any point I feel threatened or in danger, I have the right to cancel with no refund for the time I've already put in.

The amount of respect I had for the man increased when I read them. Now that I'd met him face-to-face, I appreciated him even more.

My cock stirred behind my fly at hearing the little huff of indignation Hartley let out. It would be a pleasure to put him on his knees with my cock between his lips.

Men and women alike had been wrapped around my cock since losing Malik. He and I never went there, but that didn't mean I didn't think of him when I was with others while he was still alive. No one held a candle to him then. Now, I found my body was brought to life easily. Getting off was simple. Feeling more was something I'd tried to avoid since the bullet left the chamber of my gun. I didn't want to fall in love again. The fact Hartley stirred feelings in me had to be put under lock and key.

Luckily, Reghan returned before I put a measurable step between Hartley and me. Hartley would have noticed, and I didn't want to get on his bad side yet.

"All clear. I'll be outside."

Hartley didn't let out the breath he was holding until Reghan was outside and Raiden had taken up his spot by the door.

"Very well," Hartley said. "If you'll follow me."

The interior of the building didn't match the outside. Inside, with the walls freshly painted a soft shade of beige, there was a warmth to it, even though the furniture was sparse. A few pictures hung on the walls, giving it a personal touch.

We went down a short hallway until we got to the back of the building, where a room opened up. At one time, this must have been a home, then was converted into a workspace. A long table laid out before us with different swatches of fabric on it in various shades and textures.

"Excuse the appearance," Hartley said. "My studio was previously located in a nicer building but there were… circumstances beyond my control, and I had to downgrade to a more affordable rent." The urge to ask him what happened was strong, but I bit my tongue and nodded along.

My team had already run a background check on him when I said I'd meet with him, more than a year ago. He'd explained to Tristan he had family matters to attend to that took precedence. A man who looked after his blood ranked high in my book. I gave him leniency for that and told Tristan it was fine if our meeting didn't take place until Hartley was more settled.

What I didn't want was for Hartley to work on a new suit for me, only to have the plans stall for months on end. I liked my clothes to be perfectly tailored to my body. My weight didn't fluctuate much, though if it did, I wanted it handled immediately. Meeting with Hartley now allowed me to get the best fitting suit I could.

"No worries," I told him. "From what I've seen, your work is excellent."

A blush crept over his cheeks. "Thank you." He cleared his throat and focused on the table in front of us. "Tristan sent me a list of colors and fabrics. While I know that is what you usually stick to, he also said it was acceptable to add in pops of color. Here's what I have for you in terms of the suit itself. I'd also like you to consider some vibrancy with either your collared shirt or an accessory like pocket squares. I'm not suggesting anything overly bold, more of a statement piece. You're a powerful man who should command attention wherever you go." The way the words powerful man rolled off his tongue had me wondering if he meant it or was simply buttering me up, so I'd commission more from him after the initial suit was finished. We agreed on one previously, as per Hartley's terms.

"I'm open to color within reason. I have no desire to wear neon or anything else that would draw unnecessary attention. While I want to command a room, I don't want to become a flashy target for those who'd rather see my blood decorating the walls and floor instead of remaining in my veins where it belongs."

He blinked at me a few times before saying, "I can see your point. Very well." He removed the brightest colors from the pile and left me with swatches of others to look through. I usually kept my suits on the darker side, preferring black and deeper shades of gray and navy. Some combinations Hartley was suggesting I wouldn't mind trying out.

"May I?" I motioned to the table.

"By all means. I want you to pick what you like, so I know how to move forward."