Mine (Club Sin 7)

Dmitri let the insult roll off his back. Ignorance was ignorance. “You honestly believe that outing her in a public magazine is going to somehow fix her?”

“No.” Steven leaned back in his seat with a proud look. “I believe that outing her is going to ruin you and expose your sick sex club. And that maybe, just maybe, she’ll be so embarrassed she’ll go home to her family. And then she’ll get her fucking head on straight again.” Guilt flashed through his eyes, though it quickly vanished. “I hurt her. I’m taking ownership of that. This is my amends for what I did to her.”

Dmitri absorbed that, shaking his head. Of course, those in the vanilla world didn’t understand what Club Sin was about. He couldn’t begrudge anyone their lack of knowledge, because the club was too secretive for anyone outside it to truly know how it worked.

Before Dmitri had discovered that it was Steven behind the leak, he’d wanted to bury that person; now he wanted Steven to go away quietly. It had become personal—too personal. The root of this involved Presley. And Dmitri needed to clean this up as quickly and peacefully as possible.

“Can I get you a drink?”

Dmitri blinked as the voice drew him out of his thoughts. He glanced up at the blond waitress and shook his head. “No, thank you. I won’t be here long.”

The waitress gave both him and Steven a searching look, clearly not blind to the tension between them, before she strode away. Dmitri shut his eyes a moment, pushing away the emotion clouding his mind. Business, he reminded himself. He reopened his eyes, finding Steven’s on his. “Everyone has a price. Name yours.”

“Price?” Steven repeated with clear confusion.

“Financial incentive,” Dmitri explained. “What amount of money would make you hand over the photos and sign a copyright agreement giving me ownership of the pictures.”

Steven’s eyes widened for only a second before his glare returned. “You think I’m doing this for the money?”

“I’m well aware you think you are doing this to help Presley.” Dmitri leaned back in his seat, noticing Kyler’s posture relax a smidgen, too. “I also know that money is a motivator here, since you aren’t offering to publish the pictures for free.” He tapped his finger against the table. “I can top their offer. Name your price.”

“I don’t want your money,” Steven spat out.

Dmitri studied this nothing of a man, more than done with this conversation. “You have two choices here. Only one is in your favor.” He raised one finger. “First choice. The pictures are printed, and then I will go after you with every resource I have. You’ll be arrested for blackmailing me, and I’ll bury you in lawsuits.” He lifted a second finger. “Second choice. You take my generous offer to purchase the pictures, sign the copyright over to me, and this gets put to rest. Those are the only two ways this is going to go.”

Steven stared at Dmitri for a long moment, the fight of refusal burning in the depths of his eyes, until his shoulders finally slumped in defeat. “You’re a fucking asshole.”

“I told you once, Steven, that Vegas is my city,” Dmitri said through gritted teeth. “You can threaten me, but I will never let you tarnish Presley’s good name. You have thirty seconds to make a decision.” He gestured to Kyler, who watched the exchange, arms crossed over his chest. “Then I will make the decision for you.”

Clinks from the silverware on the dishes filled the room, as did low conversations coming from the tables around them. Dmitri focused on the darkness fluttering across Steven’s face. He didn’t have a way out. What Steven had done was classic blackmail, and Dmitri had enough proof to see the case through. Steven, while a foolish idiot, wasn’t stupid.

As the seconds drew on Dmitri saw the acceptance wash over Steven’s expression. “The magazine offered fifteen thousand for the group of pictures,” Steven snarled. “From you? I’d take nothing less than three hundred thousand.”

Dmitri wanted nothing more than to reach across the table and level Steven. Yet with his members’ privacy on the line, with Presley’s heart riding on this, it made his decision easy. “Final number?”

“Yes. Non-negotiable.”

Dmitri saw the doubt in Steven’s eyes; he didn’t believe Dmitri would pay that much money. And, maybe to some, it was absolutely ridiculous. But Dmitri had made promises to those in his club, and he couldn’t live with himself if they were broken. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a business card. “What’s your bank and account number?”

At the ensuing silence, Dmitri lifted his head and found Steven staring with huge eyes, shock reflecting in their depths. “This is a business deal, Steven. I’m treating it as such. I have no time to piss around with you. Tell me the information so we can be done with it.”

Steven rattled off his bank information, and Dmitri wrote it on the back of his card. Once finished, he took out the copyright agreement from the envelope, handing it to Steven. “If you break this agreement, I will go after you for more money than you have, and bankruptcy will look like a great option when I’m done.” He arched a brow. “Do you understand?”

“Ah…” Steven cleared his throat. “Yeah.” He accepted the document and began reading it over. It simply stated that any photo taken by Steven or anyone he hired of Dmitri or anyone who came to his home belonged to Dmitri. If Steven published the pictures, he would be in violation of copyright

laws.

Dmitri pulled out the final piece of paper from the envelope, an agreement that he had drafted himself before leaving his office. He added the amount of $300,000 to the agreement. “This is a promise letter securing your money. If I don’t follow through, you can sue me to get it.”

His body bristling with tension, Dmitri gestured toward the bar. “Kyler will follow you to your house and pick up any remaining pictures you have, since I know you’ve made copies and likely have them stored on your hard drive. Once he calls and tells me he has them, I will transfer the money into your account.”

Steven watched Dmitri a moment, then he picked up the pen on the table and signed the agreement. Once finished, he pushed the document back to Dmitri. “I will agree to that.”

Deal done, Dmitri allowed his anger to now show on his face. He rose, leaning down to Steven to make sure he understood what he was about to hear. “Believe me when I say to you that I never want to see you again. Take this as the warning it is meant to be. Do not come near Presley, myself, or anyone I know. I told you once before that I could bury you in Vegas. I don’t appreciate having to repeat myself.”

Steven attempted a return glare, but it held no strength now. “Is that a threat?”

“Not a threat,” Dmitri growled. “A promise.”