Julian had seen the woman in the red dress the second she’d stepped off the elevator outside the main doors of the penthouse. He’d been sitting in his private quarters in the security room, in the exact spot he occupied still, when he’d caught sight of her and her companions on the surveillance monitor for the main entrance. Under normal circumstances, Julian would have punished Charles severely for allowing in two guests who hadn’t been vetted. The word of that degenerate drug dealer with the penchant for the cheapest and most strung out whores on Julian’s payroll was less than worthless, the man’s tendency to lie back like a lazy pig while these women serviced him—usually in seven minutes or less, start to finish—equally so. These women were meant to be used, to be violated until they begged for an end and then fucked even harder for their weakness. Yet Danny Marcus was one of Julian’s few clients too soft to show these repulsive females what they deserved.
Julian swallowed hard, straightening his French silk tie over the disgust in his throat. Like everyone else, Marcus served a purpose. He was a somewhat reliable source for bringing in new, albeit low-end, merchandise, and for supplying the girls with the heroin that kept them so dependent, they’d do anything for their next fix. That was the sole reason that Julian allowed the wretched man to attend his exclusive gatherings.
And it was definitely why he didn’t have Marcus beaten into a bloody carpet stain for arrogantly bringing not one, but two guests with him tonight.
The woman in the red dress was striking.
She had a fire about her—the defiant lift of that chin, the quiet strength in the way she carried herself. She’d manipulated Charles easily, and hadn’t been ashamed to show her base desire for her companion in public, just as the rest of his guests did. She had spirit, this woman.
And that made Julian want to break her.
“The woman in the red dress who accompanied Mr. Marcus,” he said, the glow of the sixteen monitors in the main security office illuminating the space as he turned to raise an eyebrow at Vaughn. “Who is she?”
“No idea, Mr. DuPree. I’ve never seen her at a party before.” Vaughn straightened from where he sat hunched over his keyboard, shoving at the sleeves of his oversized hooded sweatshirt. Pulling up the video of the woman in the alcove, he watched her shamelessly kiss her goateed companion for a full minute before adding, “Pretty hot, though. From the look of the feed, she came to play.”
Much to Julian’s dismay, the ability to obtain clear audio to accompany the live feeds from the dozen or so video cameras strategically placed throughout the main rooms of the penthouse was still a work in progress. The private rooms were easier to accommodate with their smaller space and lack of background noise, and of course, Julian did. Perhaps he’d have a stroke of luck with his lady in red.
“Mmm.” Julian smoothed a hand over his suit jacket, admiring the feel of the hand-tailored wool for just a moment before pushing back from the surveillance desk to find his feet. “If she and our other mystery guest take a partner into a private room, be sure to record the feed. Audio and video.”
“It’s a little unusual for a woman to sign on for your brand of fun. No offense,” Vaughn added, a sheepish smile splitting the untamed stubble trying so valiantly to become a beard. “But hey, she looks eager enough. Maybe the guy with her will share her when he’s done.”
Julian’s heart pumped with the dark thrill of anticipation at the thought. To see such a woman dominated, fucked and then shared with one of his guests, or better yet, two at the same time.
Yes. Now that would be a sight. But first, he needed a safeguard.
“Run facial recognition on both her and her companion, if you would,” he said, buttoning his suit jacket and straightening the cuffs of his dress shirt until they were just so.
Vaughn lifted his dark head in a nod. “Might take a while to hit some of the bigger databases. Gotta keep our tracks covered, you know.”
Ah, but Julian appreciated meticulous work. As well as honesty. The wait was an annoyance, but overall, the spent time was inconsequential in the face of what he wanted. “Understood. Do it as quickly as possible and report back to me as soon as you get the results.”
“Roger that. You headed out to the floor, boss?”
Vaughn’s brows shot up toward his unkempt hairline. Julian could understand the man’s surprise. Much of the time he enjoyed the parties from his private viewing room, where he would no doubt retire soon enough.
But not yet. Not tonight.
Julian smiled, the gesture cold and cunning on his mouth. “We do have new guests this evening, Mr. Vaughn. It would be quite rude of me not to welcome them to the party personally, don’t you think?”
With that, he turned toward the door.
* * *