but like I say, unless you want us both getting into trouble, don’t call me again on this number.’
‘Who shouldn’t call you again?’
Franny jumped, turning round and letting out a small scream as she clutched the phone to her chest, backing away. ‘Jesus Christ, you nearly gave me a heart attack. Don’t go around creeping up on people like that.’
Vaughn Sadler stepped out of the shadows into the light, staring at Franny, his green eyes twinkling with suspicion. ‘I wasn’t. Not my style, darling. Sneaking about has never been my thing.’
He held her stare and, annoyed, she waved him off. ‘Whatever, Vaughn. You carry on telling yourself that.’
Vaughn tilted his head, finishing off his large cigar. ‘You seem jumpy.’
Wiping away the tiny beads of perspiration on her brow, Franny snapped, ‘Well yeah! Because you’ve jumped out on me.’
Vaughn leant in, a smirk spreading across his handsome face. ‘You carry on telling yourself that … So go on then, who was on the phone? Who shouldn’t call you again?’
Franny bristled with anger, desperate to get away. ‘Sorry to tell you this, Vaughn, but you’re not my keeper. Now if you don’t mind getting out of my way, I’m here to see Alfie.’
She turned to head for the entrance but felt the firm grip of Vaughn’s hand on her arm.
‘Not until you tell me.’
Franny shook her head, pushing her long chestnut hair out of the way. ‘Not a chance, and not because I’m hiding anything, but because it’s none of your business. Now I’d appreciate it if you’d take your hands off me.’
Vaughn dropped his hold. The coldness in his tone turned to ice. ‘I don’t like you, Franny, and I certainly don’t trust you. If it wasn’t for Alfie, after that stunt of yours you pulled last year, you’d be six foot under.’
‘Is that a threat?’
‘No, it’s a regret. We should’ve got rid of you a long time ago because I know as well as you do that behind that pretty face of yours and those big innocent eyes, you’re a scheming bitch and come to think of it, you still owe me a lot of money. I don’t forget, and I certainly don’t forgive people who rip me off.’
Trying to keep her temper under control, Franny chewed the inside of her bottom lip. ‘You know it wasn’t like that.’
‘Like I say, you’re a scheming bitch. You might have Alfie fooled, darlin’, but sweetheart, I know your game. You are so like your father it’s unreal. Gangster through and through aren’t you?’
Irritated, Franny sighed. There was no love lost between her and Vaughn, who’d been Alfie’s business partner for a long while now. And no, she didn’t entirely blame him for being pissed off with her. But he knew as well as Alfie did that the stunt he was always referring to, the ripping off he often spoke about, simply wasn’t true. Okay, she’d taken his and Alfie’s money without asking them last year. A lot of money. Two million pounds to be precise. But it wasn’t about conning or cheating anybody. The fact was she knew if she’d asked them they, or at least Vaughn, would’ve said no. And no would’ve meant two people who were very dear to her would’ve likely been killed by the notorious Russo brothers, who’d demanded the money in return for her family’s safety. Not that it’d ended up being as simple as that, far from it, but she would defy anyone not to do the same in her position, and that included Vaughn.
‘I didn’t rip you off, you know that, and I’d do it again if I had to.’
Vaughn nodded. ‘I know, and that’s the problem. You aren’t to be trusted, and if Alfie can’t see that, then I’ll make it my business to make him see.’
‘Keep out of my business, Vaughn, you hear me?’
‘Not a chance. I’m going to bring you down, Franny.’
Franny barged past Vaughn, pushing down her anxiety and doing her best to ignore what he was saying.
‘I’m watching you, Franny Doyle. You hear me? I’m watching you!’
As Franny walked into the overheated basement club, her mood wasn’t helped when she saw Alfie slumped across the bar with one of the women who worked for them almost sitting on his knee. The minute she saw Franny, she blushed, tottering off quickly in her too high stilettos and shorter than short mini skirt muttering an apology under her breath.
Stony-faced, Franny sat on the Perspex bar stool next to Alfie as she looked around the club full of wealthy punters. Punters who were happy to flash their black Amex cards and pay well over the odds for the middle-of-the-road Champagne they served. And in return for their money, they got to wind down and chat freely to the pretty girls who worked there, away from their wives’ prying eyes.
Not that their girls were actual underage girls, not like Charlie Eton’s. That wasn’t even a possibility. To Franny, Charlie was the scum of the earth. She’d seen first-hand how young they were as well as seeing how badly he treated them, and in truth, it made her sick to her stomach. They were all vulnerable or runaway kids who saw Charlie and his club as an escape. Somewhere better than where they had come from. And Christ, that was the most depressing part of it all.
Franny had always been strict with the recruitment process. The youngest girl who worked for them at the moment had just turned twenty, and on account of it being almost impossible to know how old someone was just by looking at them, she always insisted on seeing the girls’ passports without exception.
The other thing she was strict on was making sure the girls understood from the get-go that the place wasn’t a knocking shop, or an escort business, nor did it have a room at the back for giving clients sneaky blow jobs.
All that was required of them was to look pretty, to be friendly, and to keep smiling, in addition to getting the punters to buy drinks. Lots of drinks. Obviously, what the girls did in their spare time with the clients wasn’t any of her business, but she warned them from the outset that if she heard them offering the clients sex, they’d be out on their ear before they could say the full works.
Membership for the club was in excess of ten thousand pounds a year, and so far, not only was the place doing very well, they also had a waiting list. The clients seemed to appreciate the air of discretion and sophistication, so having Alfie looking like he was about to vomit all over the expensive, plush black marble floor any minute was not a good look.
For the clients’ benefit, Franny kept a wide smile on her face whilst hissing a whisper. ‘For God’s sake, just sit up, Alf. You look a mess. This isn’t the time or the place.’ Half-cut, Alfie stared up at Franny. He winked at her. It always surprised him that even when she was angry she looked beautiful. In truth, she looked even more beautiful when she was annoyed, which didn’t mean to say she pissed him off any the less. In fact, it just added to his irritation.
‘Oh, that’s nice, ain’t it? No hello, no kiss, just straight in chewing me ear off.’
‘I wouldn’t have to if you carried yourself properly.’
Alfie shook his head. ‘Jesus, Fran, leave it out. All I’m doing is having a drink in my own club. No more, no less.
