Hello Little Falco.

                                        

                                              
CHAPTER: 14



Castle.
It was a little past 3 p.m., and I was still buried in logistics.
Crates of imported rum from Havana were sitting in the lower lot, waiting to be cleared through customs—Tomas would handle that. 
What I was dealing with was less volatile, but still more personal: expansion. The concept had been floating in my head for months now. 
To turn part of Enchante's exclusive VIP wing into something darker and more indulgent. A pleasure den for the city's elite. 
A controlled environment where sex and shadows could coexist—and be monetized with taste.
My financial advisor, Julian, was seated across from me, legs crossed, pen tapping against the leather-bound budget planner he brought with him like a lifeline.
"Look, Castle," he said, adjusting his glasses, "the numbers check out. But if you're looking to pivot the space into a private, members-only sex club, you need permits, discretion, and an architect who can build it like it was always meant to be hidden."
Next to him, my architect, Lys—an ex-model turned designer—nodded.
"We'd reinforce the walls here," she said, tapping a red nail on the blueprints between us. "Soundproof them. The lighting would be low and adaptive. Privacy is the currency in spaces like this. I'd redesign the hallway—hidden door, biometric lock. That way, there'll be no accidental walk-ins."
I nodded slowly, eyes on the plans but only half-listening.
"I don't want it to be sleazy," I said. "No neon signs. No chains hanging from the ceiling. I want high-end indulgence, discretion and exclusivity."
Julian whistled softly. "So basically, it's going to The Ritz, but for kinks?"
"Exactly."
Lys gave a tight smile. "I can make it look like a sanctuary. A cathedral, even."
I liked that.
I opened my mouth to reply, but something on the screen behind them caught my eye—and everything else melted into static.
My gaze snapped to the security feed in the corner of the room, and time seemed to slow down. 
Because there he was.
Angel.
Striding into the club like he didn't just throw my mind into chaos a week ago.
Julian was still talking, but I wasn't hearing a damn word.
The camera angle caught Angel in profile. He was wearing dark slacks, an open collar, a gray shirt with the sleeves folded to the elbow. 
 His hair was slicked back, his jaw tight with focus. He wasn't here for fun, I could see that. He was here on a mission.
 To say I have been expecting him would be an understatement. I knew he would investigate the finger I sent to him. And without any lead, this club would be the first place he comes to. 
My pulse ticked up and I could feel my body roaring in hunger.
"Castle?" Lys said, glancing over her shoulder. "Something wrong?"
I forced myself to stand, clearing my throat, eyes never leaving the screen.
"Wrap this up," I said, already walking to the door. "Send me the finalized blueprint and projections by tonight."
Julian frowned. "But we still haven't discussed the luxury tax—"
"Julian," I said, pausing at the doorway. "I'm going to ask you a question, and I want you to answer it carefully."