Chapter One

   The Mundane club was exclusive for one reason only, the secrets of the eligible were to the grave, never to be told in any form. In the busy, sleek and chaotic streets of New York, the esteemed club stood tall, underground. Its disguise was a luscious club, known for its top notch entertainment. No one ever suspected another layer of seduction and pleasure underneath. The club was run by a ghost, nobody could boldly say who the owner was. So when he strode in, right in the middle of a birthday bash with every male and female stripper serving fantasies on a platter. His bulky shoulders, chiseled arms and adoring chest moved with a finesse that wasn't missed, instead it hit every feminine appeal and some masculine but to them he was just another billionaire moving through the crowd. 

Yet the predator was unbothered, although very aware of his allure, it was a flaw he had come to ignore. Shane threw a discreet nod at the guard by the black curtain, it was opened with discretion as he passed through with two goons, he swiped an exclusive green card into an elevator which took him feets below and into a feast he entered. The activities upstairs seemed like choir practice compared to the naked men and women, the chains and whips, the moans and screams, the heat and speed, the fuckery and adultery. The club upstairs seemed like a safe zone compared to the hub of the famous, wealthy and eligible who had secrets to keep.

Shane stopped to whisper into the ears of a semi - nude waitress, then moved into a soundproofed office. He left the noise outside but the one in his head followed him to his desk. He dropped his 6'5 chunk of muscle in an exquisite suit on an upholstery that was designed to ooze command. "This is the second time we lose, Tom." He leaned in, his elbow pressed onto his desk, his fingers locked as his jaw was. "I'm tired of losing Tom. In fact I hate it, it's an idea that sickens my very existence. My father built the company but I took it beyond the sky, now you tell that's the limit. I call bull Tom." Then he leaned back and smiled, a smile that could make a nun lose her faith but Tom wasn't a nun, he was a snitch and he had no faith, he only had fear and information worth billions.

Tom's white skin grew impossibly paler, "I know nothing boss, I swear on my mother's grave." His bald head was slapped twice by one of the goons. The slap sent his skinny bones to the ground, he held his head in between his palm, weeping. "I swear, I know nothing."

Shane looked at his Rolex and frowned, he had a meeting with his father's lawyers and board members in ten minutes, he stood and buttoned his suit. "I hate lies Tom, they irritate me." Then he walked out of the room, leaving Tom with good company. He knew he would have his answer by the end of the day. He used a private elevator then the back door out of the club. He knew he was being watched, it didn't disturb him, it only thrilled him. He loved games, especially the ones he had already one while his rivals were still playing.

"Sir, Angela is asking if she's needed for the night?" His driver and the only man he trusted with his life asked him as soon as he stepped into his black Jeep.

Shane paused to ponder then said no, he couldn't remember the last time he needed anyone. Angela was his longest mistress or exotic company as she preferred to be called, she was older than him but she always gave him what he wanted. His kind of pleasure was primitive and not something a traditional girlfriend could handle. He has had a few of those in the past, just for the media and to please his demanding father. 

They arrived at his office in due time, he had four minutes till the meeting. He placed a few calls and did his best to switch from an exclusive club owner to the owner of a billion dollar company. Shane disliked business but he has learnt to treat it as a game of gamble and he always went all in. 

The meeting was about expansion, always about expansion. Even after rendering the affairs of the company to his son years ago, Mark Smith still required a full report from his son, his administrators were impressed but Shane's father demanded more. It was like feeding an endless pit, his father was never satisfied and Shane has come to disregard his approvals. After the meeting, he checked in with the club but Tom was being a harder nut to crack than expected. The company, Smith Empire, had numerous rivals as they dealt with every section of natural resources as well as information and technology. Lately their top rival has won major deals that Shane's eyes were on. One appreciative thing his father had taught him was how not to lose especially to a familiar enemy.

He picked up the office phone and called his executive assistant, "Dorcas, my office."

Dorcas, a lean, tall and stunning woman walked in. She always reminded Shane of the models that warmed his bed in the summertime. "Yes sir, I was about to come in and inform you that your sister called from paris. She says it's urgent and you should call her back as soon as possible. Also your father would like you to visit the mansion today for a gala he is hosting."

"That man never gets tired of his pretentious parties. He loves the ass kissing he gets from those hypocrites." Shane rubbed his forehead, the noise was getting louder in there. He poured himself a glass of scotch and drank it at once. He shook off a dropping strand of black hair then cleared his throat and squinted. He didn't want to think about his sister and her urgent message, why couldn't they let him be, hasn't he given enough already? He thought and gave a dismissive wave towards Dorcas. She was about to leave then she paused and turned, "why did you call me sir?"

Her last word was a trigger to his libido, it made him see her in a sexy red thong, tied to her back and on her knees with her large eyes staring at him, begging him to carry out his pleasurable deeds on her pretty dark skin. He squeezed his eyes shut and burned that image, she was a married woman with children and he had principles. Maybe Angela was required after all.

"I wanted you to reschedule my next appointments or have the Vice President handle it." She nodded and left.

Shane picked up his phone and fondled it for a while, he sighed and dropped it. Speaking to his sister was wonderful but there were moments he'd just rather not. He laid his curly head backwards. There was a painting on his ceiling, it was confusing and grey but when he looked deeper, it reminded him of the dark stars back home. The painting was a gift from one of his former mistresses, she was an exceptional artist till she adopted and gave up their perfect harmony to live a quiet, uneventful life.

Shane recalled her marriage proposal, he had declined with no doubt. From then he cut short most of his long term lovers, they tend to see past the only reason he took them to his bed; dominance. He pulled his eyes from the art and looked at the mini bar then the out of sight office. Every nook and cranny held glamour and male excellence as he had demanded, it was wide and empty except for his massive desk and chairs, his luxury mini bar, his long couch, wide television and well crafted book shelf. At each corner of the wall, there was a painting, expensive ones and most of them were sensual and elegant.

Elegance, that word reminded him of his nights when he closed his eyes to shut off the noise in his head, it reminded him of the lady in black and a splash of moving red. She haunted his dreams to nightmares, he needed her gone but wanted her to linger.

His phone rang, loudly, piercing through his ear drums and thoughts. He glared at the contact info and picked. He said nothing to the caller.

After a short moment, his sister spoke, "what does it take to get a call from my sweet older brother." 

"It takes father giving me a break and my insatiable women being patient." No matter how dull he felt, his sister was one of the rare ones to make him smile. "How are you Jumoke?"

"I'm bored out of my freaking mind." He heard a bit of sizzle and assumed she was in the kitchen. He was not surprised at her response, despite her immense success as a chef and owner of a famous restaurant chain, Jumoke had the attention span of a child, she only lived in the moment, refusing every form of responsibility. It was why he owned sixty percent of her restaurants, they would cease to exist with her negligence.

"What's wrong with the city of love? I thought that was your final bus stop in finding prince charming?" He mocked her reason to visit Paris in the first place.

"Quit it, Mr CEO. Not all of us can pick from any honey pot like you. Some of us need to be loved, we need l'amour vrai." True love.

Shane stared at the painting in the ceiling, he frowned and decided he wanted it gone. "You're loved Jummy."

"He loves just you, the rest of us are liabilities." He could barely hear her, she sounded lost like he did when he allowed the noise in his head to get to his soul.

"I wasn't talking about father, you're loved Jummy, you know that."

"I know, I love you too. But your love doesn't keep me warm at night." She sighed and geared into an intense mood quickly. "Did your assistant tell you I had urgent news for you."

"Yes." 

"And you don't want to know." There was a quick pause, "or you know already."

"Yes."

"I thought as much, your creepy guard dogs are everywhere. I'm looking at one from my window right now, he's very good looking." He heard her linger and groaned at his sister's obvious ogling. "So are you going home?"

"Are you?" They hadn't been home for years. When he heard of his brother's wedding, he was just going to send a gift but they had made a vow to each other as kids to be at their weddings. It was a childish oath that could be ignored but Shane didn't want to, those memories were all he had of family. "Did you get an invite because I didn't."

"Oh. Uh. I did and I'm going."

"It's settled then, I'll just send a gift."

"You both have your pride but you have always been the sensible one, Ayomikun wants you to be there, I'm sure. Please come home, for me and for mom."

At the mention of his mother, sunken rage and despair rushed through him, he dropped his forehead on his palm. "Mom wouldn't want to see me either."

"No one can know for sure Idris, what do you lose if you come home? If it turns out bad, get on your private jet back but it's been years and you need to visit mom."

The ticking of the grand clock by the bookshelf judged him, he hated the feeling of a prodigal son. "I will think about it."

"The last time we spoke you said you needed to check on your offshore businesses in Nigeria and other neighbouring countries. You could use that as an excuse to get your pompous ass home."

"I said I'll think about it. Moreover this news isn't that urgent."

"We both know it is. Now I'll talk to you later. I have a date."

"With who?"

"Your sexy creepy guard dog." And she ended the call with that, leaving Shane with a lot to think about. It only added to his headache and temper. He called his driver as he gathered his keys and tablet from the desk.

"Luke, turn the car around, I'm coming outside. And get in touch with Angela, tell her my penthouse across the club by midnight." He strolled out of his office, threw a nod at his assistant who stood immediately she saw him, it was a gesture that she could sit.

He entered the presidential elevator and it took him a few minutes to get to the last floor. He walked out and nodded to as many greetings as he could. He gave the building security guard who opened his car door a generous tip then got in.

"Where to, boss?"

"My father's house. Did you send a ride to Angela?"

"Yes sir, she also asked if she could come with friends?"

"Tell her yes and inform the man guarding my sister that if he accepts any advances from my lovely sister his head will be on a spike before he can finish his next thought. 

"Yes boss." Shane didn't miss the sly smile from Luke, he chose to ignore it.

By the time they arrived at his father's palace, half of the crowd were drunk and the other half was half way there. It was amusing to see men and women of states and wealth act like reckless teenagers but that was what Mark Smith galas were known for. Every time Shane visited, his father had a new car, a more expensive painting, a new grand decoration but the woman by his side, his step mother, Felicia Smith never changed. She took good care of her aging fair skin and her slim, majestic figure.

Shane moved, with an air of indifference towards his father. He rudely ignored his father's guests and the smile of his despicable wife. "Father, you asked for me."

Mark showed his disapproval at his son's dismissive approach, "yes, my guest wanted to see my son. They heard about your great doings in the company."

"I'm not a show father, I actually have more important things to do," like bending Angela over till her spine felt his dick, "than performing for your guests."

His father's skin began to turn red, he was furious. Shane saw where he got his short temper from but he cared less. His father was about to rebuke him but his wife stepped in, "boys let's all breathe, the guests are watching," Shane walked off, he wished her tight, bright smile would tear her pale face in two, "Mark darling mingle with our guest, I'll talk to him." 

Shane entered the grand kitchen, poured himself a glass of water and tried to mute the raging ache in his head.

"Your father means well, you know." He'd know that low, sultry voice anywhere. Felicia catwalked towards him.

"Fuck off." He spat with an icy groan. He took another drink before the glass was yanked from his hold. His step mother was beside him, her heels brought her closer to his jaw level.

"You know I dislike it when you let your temper loose with me." With every feline word she got closer to him, he could smell her choking perfume. Her fingers trailed his arm, his chest to his stiff shoulders then she hung her arm on his shoulder and traced his muscled spine. "I won't like to punish you but you know I would if you act naughty."

Nightmares of a weak, defenceless child were all her words brought but when her other hand touched his torso, he let his anger show, he hated how she found a way to make him her scared, homesick slave with a vile touch. He backed away then she dropped her hand from his torso and pulled him back with a strong grip on his balls, "I own you Idris," and kissed him, her lips were hungry and dominating.

His native name, the way she said it, that was why he hated that name, a name his family used to make him feel loved and his friends used to make him laugh, she tainted that name and he never used it again. He made sure he was called Shane because when they called him Idris, he remembered.

Her kiss demanded his attention and he declined because he never kissed back but his attention, he gave it. He picked her up and placed her on the counter, he tore her lips with bites and pulled her hair, he yanked her hand from his hard member and held it down on the counter, he needed her to know he wasn't Idris anymore. Her moans were loud when he took her full breast and pinched her stiff nipple, he held her hands down with his other hand then strayed from her breast to her laps. He dipped in between her hot, wet member and fucked her long and hard with two digits till he felt her scream into his chest. He pulled away then waited till she caught her breath.

"You don't own me Felicia, not anymore."

She glared at his hard, green eyes and stepped down from the counter, she adjusted her dress and hair. Licked her scarred lips and smiled, "that's the game honey, it's not your choice if I own you or not. It's mine and I choose you. I know what that was, a sign that you're all grown now." Then she got closer to his expressionless face, "but know that everytime I touch myself it's you that watches, just as you used to."

A knock swiped through the dark tension, there was a visible war for superiority. Shane backed away, slowly, there was a hold she had over him and it burned.

"Boss, your father is asking for you." It was Luke. Shane nodded and followed him but then he stopped by the door and looked at his stepmother.

"You were once a good teacher Felicia but the constant sex from the old man's cock has made you sloppy and quite dull." Then he was gone, the rage on his father's wife's face was enough satisfaction to nullify the burn.