Her craving, His brother

Chapter 8: Control

Briggs’ POV

Don’t get me wrong.

I never knew I parked that long in front of them. If I had, I would’ve moved. I’m not that careless. I don’t do unnecessary inconvenience. At least, not without reason.

When I first noticed them, I assumed they were waiting for someone. Two women standing by a car, not honking, not pacing aggressively, just there. So I didn’t think much of it, that was my mistake. A rare one, but still mine.

The truth is, I was distracted. Not by something trivial, but by something that demanded my attention. Ellen. And the video she sent.

I walk back into the car and lean back slightly against the driver’s seat, one hand resting loosely on the steering wheel as I replay the last few minutes in my head. Running a s*x club isn’t what people think it is.

They see the surface, the lights, the music, the bodies. They assume it’s chaos, It’s not, It’s control. Every single thing that happens in my space is monitored, filtered, and accounted for. I don’t run a business where people are treated like objects.

Not the call girls or the gigolos. If you work for me, you get paid properly. You’re protected, you have rules. And more importantly, you have boundaries. And that’s the part people always test. Boundaries.

Ellen has been with me long enough to know the system. Smart girl, keeps to herself, does her job. Doesn’t create unnecessary problems. So when she sent that s*x video, I knew immediately something was wrong.

I tap my fingers once against the steering wheel, my jaw tightening slightly.

The video itself wasn’t the issue. I don’t care what consenting adults choose to do. That’s not my business. What is my business—is consent.

And what I did see? That wasn’t consent.

A VIP client, someone I personally cleared. Someone I allowed into my space under my name. Recording my call girl without permission and respect. That’s not just a violation, that’s a mistake. A very expensive one.

I glance toward the pharmacy entrance as I step out of the car, adjusting the cuff of my sleeve slightly. The air is cooler now, quieter than it was earlier.

The two women are gone. Still…I remember it. One of them, the calm one. A faint smirk pulls at the corner of my mouth. That? I didn’t expect.

People usually react differently, especially with what happened earlier. They would flip, yell, scream, curse, but she was calm, that’s rare.

Something about the tattoos, apparently. People say I look intimidating, rude, unapproachable.

“Scary,” as some like to put it.

I shake the thought off, pushing open the pharmacy door. Focus.

Inside, it’s quieter now, less crowded, more manageable. I walk straight to the counter.

“I need an ointment,” I say calmly. “For bruising.”

The pharmacist nods, already reaching for something behind the counter.

“Strong one,” I add.

He glances up briefly, understands, says nothing. Good. A few minutes later, I’m back in the car, engine running. Phone already in my hand, I dial.

Ellen picks up on the second ring. “Sir.”

Her voice is steady, but I can hear it. The tension, the aftershock.

“You okay?” I ask.

A pause. Then, “Yes.”

Short, controlled, but not entirely convincing. I tap my thumb lightly against the steering wheel.

“Talk to me.”

She exhales softly. “He hit me,” she says.

My jaw tightens, not visibly, but outwardly. I nod once, even though she can’t see me.

“It’s fine,” I say calmly.

Because it is, not because the situation is, but because it will be.

“Sorry you had to go through that. He can threaten you with whatever he wants,” I continue. “Those videos don’t mean anything.”

Another pause.

“I have everything under control,” I add.

And I do. Always.

“You’ll be compensated.”

That matters, not just the damage, but the message.

She swallows. “…Thank you, sir.”

I end the call without dragging it. No need for unnecessary words. I shift the car into drive, pull out of the parking lot. And head straight toward the hotel Ellen sent me.

Fedric, that’s where he is. Checked in earlier today, room number already confirmed, payment traced, identity verified.

The drive is quiet. City lights passing in blurred streaks against the window. My mind doesn’t wander, It never does. It calculates, processes plans. By the time I pull into the hotel parking lot, Riki is already there. Leaning against his car, arms crossed, waiting.

I step out. He straightens immediately.

“You’re late,” he says.

“I’m on time.”

He smirks slightly. “Same thing.”

Riki doesn’t ask unnecessary questions. That’s why he’s here, that’s why he stays. We head inside without another word. The hotel is quiet, late enough for people to mind their business. Early enough for things to still happen.

We do the necessary check in and head towards the elevator. We reach the floor, walk down the hallway. Room number ahead. I stop just outside the door. Riki glances at me.

“Same plan?”

I nod once. He grins, then switches, his entire demeanor shifts instantly. He steps forward and knocks.

“Room service, sir,” he calls, his voice perfectly altered.

Silence, then moment inside, muffled. Riki glances at me briefly. I don’t react. The lock clicks, opens.

And the moment Fedric sees us, everything changes. His face, posture, confidence, gone. He tries to shut the door, fast, desperate. But he’s too slow. My hand is already there, flat against the door. Stopping it, effortlessly.

The space between us shrinks. The tension sharpens. And for the first time tonight, I step forward.