Page 28 of Chained

"Ace, looking well," he replies, his voice a little croaky with an accent I'm not familiar with. "Other than that nice bruise on the jaw. Been fighting again?" He laughs as I sit down in front of him, my hand moving to rub the bruise, which doesn't hurt.

"Something like that," I reply, my eyes flickering to the empty glasses on the table, which are normally full.

"Ah well, take it from me, lad." He leans back as the others talk around him. "Adds character—a little mark on your face will help you get all the ladies."

I nod, laughing. "I don't have the time for that." My hands interlock on the table, elbows digging into the old oak.

"Have time for what?" Vincent intercepts our conversation, leaning back in his chair as he observes the rest of the table. His black hair is swept back and his suit neatly pressed, his eyes hungry for whatever information he can get.

"I was just saying Ace needs to make time to indulge in some women, Reigns. You should treat him to one of yours," the older man says, tapping his fingers against the oak.

"Ah, our Ace isn't one for random women. He believes he's above them," Vincent goads. My jaw tightens, but I don't take the bait. Adrian and Jarrod join the table, sitting on either side of me as we wait for Vincent to start, and I fucking pray to God this ends soon.

"Shall we begin?" one of the other members, a younger guy, says as he stands, his fingers gripping a large folder. Vincent nods, his eyes still on me, but I don't return the look. I just sit with my hands pressed together, my palms sweating slightly. I can feel Jarrod's leg bouncing under the table, the repetition of it slowly pissing me off, but I let it slide. He hates these meetings—probably more than I do.

The guy nods, his hand moving to the collar of his shirt as he pulls it from his throat. His first attempts at speaking falter as he stumbles over his words. "Well, okay...right. Well, I noticed that there have been a few problems this week. The last batch out to Ashwood was cut too thin and—" He clears his throat, his eyes moving across the table as everyone stares at him. "Well, we've had a few complaints. From two clubs, to be exact." Vincent shifts in his seat, a leg crossed over his knee as his knuckles move to his mouth, his eyes fixed on the guy who's trembling where he stands. "The clients are starting to notice." His shoulders sag in relief that he finally spewed out the words. I lean in on my elbows, eyes flickering to Vincent to see how he reacts.

"So what do you plan to do about it?" Vincent asks, his voice light like he's asked an easy question. He waits as the guy stands there, pathetically trying to scramble for a solution in his mind. I almost pity him.

"Well…I—" he stammers again. Showing weakness is only going to make Vincent enjoy punishing him more. I can already tell by the way Vincent doesn't look away from him that he's loving every second of watching him squirm.

"Well...I—" Vincent mocks. He turns to the guards and gives them a nod. I notice them disappear from the room, a small frown on my face with confusion. He never lets them leave.

I'm pulled back to the table as Vincent continues to torture the poor bloke, who's now sweating profusely, the files in his hands damp with finger marks. "I don't pay you to find problems, I pay you to fucking solve them." Vincent's tone is harsher now as he shoots daggers at the guy, who nods, apologies spilling from his throat.

"I'll fix it, Vincent. I promise, I'll fix it." He sits back down, taking a cloth from his pocket and dabbing his forehead.

"Next," Vincent calls, his eyes moving to the doors. I keep mine on him—what is he waiting for? One of the other men stands up, one I've never really bothered to notice before. Only the older guy with the scar is one I've ever really spoken to; the others normally just act like we don't exist.

"Chief's already signed off on it. Anything that comes up gets buried before it leaves his desk. We're still off their radar—no outside interest. Digital side's covered, too. Nothing ties back to us. Next intake's scheduled for the end of the week."

"Ah yes, Chief Rowland is well in my pocket now," Vincent says as the doors squeak open. My head snaps over as one of the guards starts to enter, a smirk on his face.

"They're ready and waiting, sir." His voice is smooth and irritating. The way he sucks up to Vincent almost makes me want to claw my own eyes out from cringing.

"Lovely. Bring them in," Vincent calls, a smile plastered across his face as he returns to his seat. "A gift for you gentlemen—the finest."

I can't tear my gaze away as I watch them be led into the room in single file, their sheer gowns exchanged for extravagant, golden lingerie sets. The image takes me back to the night in the parlour—the night everything began for me. I keep staring, something inside stirring as I wait for her to come into my line of sight. She's standing somewhere in the back, her dark black curls brushed out by someone who doesn't know how to take care of her hair, her lingerie tightly fitted, showing her smooth, dark skin. I feel the familiar twitch in my jeans, one that I'd only ever really known because of Melina.

Looking away, I realise I'm no better than these men.

"My, my, my…Vincent. They are exquisite," one of the men calls out. I watch as he can't take his eyes off the girls, the filth lingering in every look.

Jarrod leans in beside me, his voice low enough only I can hear. "I don't like this, Jax."

I lean back, covering my mouth with my hands, feigning a cough. "Neither do I."

"My girls here have come to provide your wine." Vincent snaps his fingers, and the guards hand them jugs, pushing them towards the table. The redhead girl scowls at us all as she moves forward, moving between two of the members to pour their wine. One of them draws a hand back, the slap echoing in the room as he connects with her arse.

"Watch it," she spits at him, moving back quickly.

"I like this one, Vincent. She's spunky," he torments, turning to Vincent. "How much?"

"None of my girls are for sale, my friend. They're here to be observed, unless I say otherwise."

"That's a shame. I'd have paid good money," he continues, trying to barter.

"Maybe in time. When she becomes useless to me, I'll gift her to you."