Chapter 21

21

JJ

"Did you hurt yourself?"

Michael Sovrano jerks his chin in the direction of my hand.

"No, I didn't," I snap.

"It sure looks like you cut yourself, ol' chap," Sinclair Sterling drawls from his position near the window of the conference room that adjoins my office at Kane Tower.

Oh, now they back each other up. For men who were once sworn enemies, I'd say I did a good job of bringing them together. When I revealed that the man I had spying on both Sinclair and Michael was none other than Antonio, they were gob-smacked. He was one of Michael's men, whose life Sinclair and his friends had spared on the condition that he spy on Michael for them. And he was spying on both of them for me, for Antonio owed his loyalties to me. Sinclair and Michael were understandably pissed. Michael was the first to admit I beat them at their own game. Sinclair followed suit. They both then promised they wouldn't harm him. Not that I was giving them a chance. I contacted Antonio and ensured him that he and his girlfriend Nina had safe passage to a country of their choice where they could live out their lives in anonymity. So, yep, I won this round.

Now, I glower at the both of them. "Told you, it's nothing."

"Oh, it's something," Nikolai Solonik, the head of the Bratva, murmurs from where he's lounging on the settee opposite me.

"If we're done with this inquisition, can we get onto the business at hand?"

Michael chuckles. "Someone's in a foul mood."

"Who's in a foul mood?" a new voice asks.

I glance up as Hunter Whittington strolls in. His dark hair is perfectly coiffed, the shadow of his designer beard gracing his jaw. He's wearing a three-piece pinstriped suit. Even though he's in his mid-thirties, he dresses like someone who's older. Someone with conservative tastes. Someone who has control tightly reined in. Someone who's just announced his candidacy for the position of Prime Minister of the UK.

Michael and Nikolai fall silent. The expression on Sinclair's features doesn't change.

"I believe you know each other?" I murmur.

Sinclair nods. He rises to his feet and thrusts out his hand. "Councilor."

"Sterling." Hunter's lips quirk. "I should have believed JJ when he said I wouldn't regret making it to the meeting he set up today. Your new takeover is all over the business community."

"As is your announcement for candidacy." The two men grip each other's hand for a second longer, then step back. Hunter turns to Michael.

"Sovrano. Your reputation precedes you. I hear you've been looking to invest in England?"

Michael tips up his chin. He doesn't offer to shake Hunter's hand. The councilor doesn't seem put out by it.

"You do realize this meeting doesn't mean you can bypass any checks and balances before you invest?"

Michael smirks. "Wouldn't dream of it."

He turns to Nikolai. "The same goes for you, Solonik."

Nikolai tips up his chin. The two men engage in a staring match—something to be expected when you have multiple men with big egos in the same room.

"Gentleman, this is a safe space. It goes without saying that whatever is said between these walls stays here."

There's silence, then Hunter nods. So do Sinclair, Michael, and finally, Nikolai.

"What did I miss?" I turn to find Declan Beauchamp entering the room, Adrian Sovrano on his heels. Declan walks up to Michael and slaps him on his shoulder. "Didn't expect to see you here, but can't say I am surprised."

"Glad you could make it from LA," I add.

"I didn't think I could, but something came up." His eyebrows crease. "Turned out, I had to be in London for a premiere. I could juggle around my other engagements to make the meeting."

Adrian walks up to Michael who holds out his hand. "Don." Adrian kisses the ring on Michael's little finger."

If the others are surprised by the gesture, they don't show it.

"I assume you've brought us together for a reason, Kane?" Nikolai turns to me.

"Indeed. If you could all take your seats?"

Declan takes the chair next to Sinclair, and Adrian the one next to him. Hunter walks further to take the chair at the foot of the table.

"Sorry I'm late." Liam Kincaid strides into the room. He grips my hand, then turns to the men. "Gentlemen." He rounds the table and drops into the seat next to Michael.

I glance around at the cast of characters—each one handpicked by me for what they can bring to the table. Each one a leader in his own right. Each one has a unique skill set which the others may not be aware of yet, but which will be revealed in time.

"There are two people missing."

Hunter glances around the table. "From where I am, everyone who matters is here."

"Except me," a female voice calls out, then a woman walks into the room. Dressed in a skirt that reaches to just above her knees, and a fitted jacket with her hair flowing around her shoulders, Zara sashays into the room. She walks over to where Hunter is seated and stares down her five-foot four-inch height at him. "You're in my seat," she says haughtily.

"Am I now?" he murmurs.

"Yes, you are." She crosses her arms across her chest. "If you were a gentleman, you'd have offered me the seat."

"But you're not a lady now, are you?" he drawls.

She stiffens. "You're every bit the wanker I thought you to be, Mr. Whittington."

Of course, Hunter is known by face, but have the two met each other before? The two of them lock gazes; the seconds stretch by. Hunter smirks. She stiffens. Something passes between them.

"On the other hand, my mother taught me better."

He rises to his feet, gestures to the seat he's just vacated, only to move to the seat next to her.

Zara takes her seat. "Thanks for having me, JJ."

"Zara Chopra, she is a leading media personality," I introduce her. She's not as well-known as the rest around the table, yet. But that's going to change. It's why I invited her to join the club. Best to get them in before they embark on the upward slope of their career trajectory.

Zara inclines her head in the direction of the table.

Hunter looks at her with interest, but when Zara turns to him, he changes his expression to one of indifference. Hmm.

"Who's missing?" Declan asks.

"Edward Chase."

"Edward?" Sinclair frowns. "You mean the once Father Edward Chase, who has since left the Church?"

I nod.

" My friend Edward Chase?" he asks again.

"Precisely. I left him a few messages, but he hasn't responded. He hasn't been in touch with you, has he?"

Sinclair shakes his head slowly. "Not since he went to Thailand. Something about setting up a beach bar, I think. That was a month ago, I haven't heard from him since."

"I'm sure he'll surface at some point," I offer.

"You going to reveal why you wanted us all in one place?" Liam asks.

"What if I said it was for the pleasure of your company?"

There are snickers around the table.

"You gentlemen and lady are right, of course. I've brought you all together because each one of you is unique in your contributions to the world. You come from all walks of life. Arts, business, and politics to name a few."

Liam tilts his head.

"Some of you live on the fringe of society, too."

Nikolai smirks.

"It goes without saying that most of you are personally wealthy, too, but it goes beyond that. Each of you is among the most influential, most powerful, and most exceptional in your fields. You, here, are a veritable roster of who's who. The media is interested in many of you and follows your every move."

Hunter's gaze sharpens. Zara twists her lips.

"For all of you, your home is your sanctuary, the one place you can unwind without scrutiny from peers, or from tabloids."

Declan lowers his chin to his chest.

"Now, you have another place. Here, you can unwind without being worried about the media. A space to entertain and be entertained.

"A combination of comfort, glamour, and intimacy, where what's said and done in the club will stay in the club. In short, this will be the place to meet and network among the tastemakers, the influencers, those whose every choice has a ripple effect on the decisions of millions."

Liam drums his fingers on the table. "Are you talking about a club, because if so, I'm already a member of?—"

"Not any club. Call it a league, a coalition, a fellowship."

"So, a society?" Adrian asks.

"A group of people united by common interests," I retort.

"Which is?" Declan narrows his gaze.

"Each of you has a certain proclivity..." A ripple of tension runs around the room. "Including me. And this is the place where you can indulge in it without fear of being judged or exposed."

"And you have this information, how?" Sinclair asks in a soft voice.

"I have my sources. Just as you had me investigated before you agreed to meet me the first time, just as" —I sweep my gaze across the people around the conference table— "each of you had me investigated before doing business with me previously."

"Except me." Declan touches his fingertips together. "We haven't done business, and I haven't had you investigated. Sure, I know of you by reputation, but really, I came along because I was curious."

"And your trust is your strength?—"

"Or your downfall," Liam drawls.

Declan chuckles. "You need to have some faith in the inherent goodness of people, ol' chap."

"I don't survive merely on the strength of my looks, pretty boy," Liam scoffs.

"And I don't think everyone is out to get me, though admittedly, there are more people out there who hate my guts than there used to be. The perils of fame." He raises a shoulder.

"You—" Liam frowns, but I cut him off.

"People, I know your time is precious so I won't take up any more of it, except to say, the lot of you have been handpicked to head the board of this league."

"A league?" Nikolai drawls. "Is that what we're going with?"

"For the time being, unless any of you have a better suggestion?"

There's silence around the table.

"Fine. A league it is. New members need to be recommended by existing members. And we meet monthly to review the membership requests that come in. Any board member can veto the entry of a new person. All of us need to agree that the person will be the right fit for this league."

"Is there a name for this league?" Liam asks

"The League?" I offer.

"Right," he says in a skeptical voice.

"Do we have, like, a clubhouse and stuff?" Declan asks.

"For now, we meet here in my offices. But the new premises will be at Piccadilly, right next to the headquarters of the BAFTA."

Zara leans forward in her seat. "Next to the BAFTA, huh? Fancy."

"What's BAFTA?" Declan quirks his eyebrows.

"British Academy of Film and Television Arts. The equivalent of the Oscars. They're housed at 195 Piccadilly. We'll be occupying the premises next to them."

"Are you sure it's wise to have such a public presence?" Hunter murmurs.

"Are you ashamed of your kinks?" I shoot back.

Zara laughs, then turns it into cough.

"I do have a public image to uphold." He frowns.

"If you were so worried about your image, you wouldn't be here in the first place," she reminds him.

"Who are you? My PR manager?"

"God forbid. And whoever does manage your PR has my full sympathies. He or she must have to spin many plates at the same time to keep your image out of the gutter."

Hunter opens his mouth, but before he can speak, I interject, "If there are no more questions?—"

"What exactly is the benefit of being on the board again?" Liam tilts his head. "Other than a direct hotline to those around the table, that is?"

"You mean, a direct communication channel to the kind of power that can sway governments, influence share prices, give you access to secrets that you'd have found difficult to get hold of otherwise, and the chance to do good on a scale that can make a visible difference," I remind him.

"I'm not sold on the idea yet, but" —he raises a shoulder— "I'll give it a trial run. If the club adds value to my business, and indeed, to my life... I'll not only stay on, but I'll recommend the kind of members who'll make a real difference by their very presence alone."

"Is that a challenge?"

His eyes gleam. "If you wish."

I hold out my hand. "If I win, you recommend seven new members to join the league."

"If you lose?" He peels back his lips.

"I won't."

"But what if you do?"

I laugh, "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

That's when there's a knock on my office door.