Cross (Dark Kings 3)

“This isn’t about the car.” She reaches into her Louis Vuitton bag and pulls out a large manila envelope. Setting it on the bar, she pushes it toward me.

“What’s this?” I ask.

“This is me repaying you.”

I look from her to Bones, but he still hasn’t said one word. His blue eyes are on mine, and I look away. His stare is so intense it makes me nervous.

Opening up the envelope, I pull out a set of papers. KINK is written across the top of it in bold black letters. Never heard of it before. “What is this?”

“I want to go into business with you,” she states.

I begin to laugh but immediately stop when neither one of them joins me. I clear my throat at the awkward silence that follows. “Business? What kind of business?” Is this like her Rate the Dick app idea?

“Kink is an elite BDSM club. I recently found out about it when I was in New York. It’s a gold mine, Lex. We’ve spoken to the owner of the New York location, and he wants to meet with us this weekend.”

I run a hand through my bleach-blond hair. “I … uh, you want to own a sex club?” I didn’t even know they existed. I mean, you hear about shit like this, but I’ve never been to one before.

“Yes.” She clasps her hands.

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out, so I close it. Taking in a deep breath, I try again. “You want to turn my bar into a sex club?”

“No.” She shakes her head quickly. “Just your basement. You own the bar. A hundred percent yours. I just want to go in on Kink with you. We renovate the basement that you don’t use into the club, and I’ll run it. You can be involved as much or little as you want, but we split the profit fifty-fifty.”

I look at Bones. “What do you have to do with this?” I’m curious as to why he’s here with her. What is his involvement?

He leans forward, placing his tatted forearms on the bar, and I find myself leaning back just a bit, hoping he doesn’t notice. “Kink is an exclusive men’s club, per se. They have twenty-five locations around the world. Not a single one is owned or run by a woman.”

None of that sentence answered what I just asked. “Meaning?” I frown, needing further explanation. I’m fucking tired.

“Meaning that we need Bones as a partner,” Jasmine answers.

“So, you will own a percentage of it?” I clarify. How would Jasmine and I be fifty-fifty if he owns a portion as well?

“Just on paper,” he states.

“He’s not taking anything from Kink. Bones is not investing any up-front costs or involvement whatsoever. Dillan Reed is just a name on a piece of paper.”

I’m guessing Dillan Reed is his real name. Which, if you ask me, doesn’t fit him at all. Bones? That makes more sense. The guy looks like he’d beat you to death with his fists. Or a hammer. Whatever is closest to him at the time.

I drop my eyes to read over the documents some more. I see two million, and my mouth drops. “Jasmine,” My gaze shoots to hers. “I don’t have this kind of money.”

“You don’t need it. I’ve got it covered,” she rushes out.

Is she insane? Shaking my head, I shove the contract back over to them. “No.”

“Alexa—”

“I’m not doing it.” I turn, walking into the cooler just to get away from them.

The door opens behind me, and Jasmine enters. “Just hear me out,” she says, placing her hands up defensively.

“The answer is no.” I reach down and grab a case of Bud Light even though I’m not sure what the fuck I’m going to do with it.

“Lex.” She places her hands on my shoulders and spins me around to face her. “I told you I would repay you for what you did. And this is my payment.”

“Even if I agreed, I can’t repay you.” I have some money saved up after selling the studio, but not even close enough to cover my half. And I believe in paying your way. I’m not a leech.

“Your friendship is all the payment I need.” She removes her hands from my shoulders and takes the beer from mine, setting it on the floor by my feet. “Look, Kink will be a success. You know how I know?” She doesn’t let me answer. “Because I’m going to devote my life to it.”

That’s not what I’m concerned about. “It’s not fair,” I argue. “For you to put up all that money and me nothing.”

“You saved me,” she whispers, dropping her eyes to her red Louboutin heels. “No one has ever done that for me before.”

My chest tightens for her. She may be a friend of mine, but Jasmine keeps a lot to herself. She hides her sadness and insecurities behind jokes and sarcasm. “Jasmine, that’s what friends do. They look out for one another.”