The first room Jett tried to give me in the Lafayette Club was unacceptable. It was lavish, it was expensive looking, it had amenities I didn’t want. I wanted simple, I wanted plain, I wanted something that resembled the four cell walls I was supposed to be in.

Luckily there was a room on the first floor of the old servants’ wing that was suitable. New construction made that part of the house more modern, but it wasn’t as lavish as the rest of the house. There was a double bed against a wall, a nightstand, and a single chair in the room. To the left, there was an attached bathroom that would do the job. There was minimal light coming through the one window on the largest wall, and the room seemed almost cold, sterile. It was as close to a jail cell as I was going to get.

It was surprising how much a person’s life could change in a matter of minutes. One moment, I’d been on the verge of a breakout career and the next, I was hiding in my best friend’s mansion, helping him start a gentleman’s club for the city elites.

This wasn’t how I’d envisioned my life ending up.

No, I’d spent hours upon hours training and making the right decisions in my life to help accomplish my goals, to help me become the boxer I’d always wanted to be, but one wrong move, one lapse of judgement and I lost everything. I lost my house, my job, but most importantly, I lost the respect of everyone not only in my life but everyone who had ever believed in me, especially the city that I loved.

My father passed away shortly after his reprimanding, leaving behind debt and a spiteful diary of how much of a disappointment I was. Using the money from selling my house and belongings, I paid off his debt, leaving me with nothing left from my past besides guilt.

The only person who had even given me the time of day was Jett, and that was because he knew the truth, he knew who I truly was. He knew the kind of hard work and passion I had for the sport I loved. He knew I would never do anything to compromise my future, but only one person believing in me could only get me so far, even if Jett had some pull in the city we called home.

I hung my boxing gloves on a nail that was already in the wall and stared at them solemnly. It was a symbolic and gut-wrenching move for me. I was hanging up my career. I was done and painfully moving on.

The next chapter in my life was starting, and to my demise, I wasn’t fucking ready to move on, but stopping life wasn’t an option, so I swallowed my pride and let the changes overtake me, starting my new job as a glorified babysitter. That’s how I saw it, even though Jett said it was a lot more than that. Apparently there were plentiful activities the club was offering, but with my faded outlook on life, I couldn’t quite see the big picture.

A light knock came at my door, and Jett entered with a neutral look on his face.

“I don’t like you down here,” he said, looking around and taking in my bleak surroundings.

“You can’t control everything in the world, so fucking deal with it,” I replied. I tossed my duffel bag on the bed. “What do you want?”

“Our first girl is about to arrive soon. Thought it would be appropriate if we both greeted her.”

“I thought you wanted to be elusive with these women.”

“I do,” Jett replied. “But Barbara is different. She needs a lot of help, and the state you’re in right now, it doesn’t seem you’d be the best welcoming committee.”

“You got that fucking right,” I replied. “Why are you doing this, Jett? Why are you taking these women in? Trying to change them?”

Jett blew out a long breath and ran a hand over his face, clearly not wanting to engage in this conversation right now, but I didn’t care. Anything to take the all-encompassing ache off my chest for a short period of time was all I cared about.

“Why?” I asked again. “Does this have to do with Natasha leaving? You just want to be a man who doesn’t get close to another woman, so you bring them to your mansion, fuck them, and give them a place to stay?”

“It’s not like that,” Jett cut in, angry.

“It’s not? Because it damn well looks like that. So tell me, if it’s not Natasha, then what is it?”

“I’m over Natasha. She can have a grand fucking time with Rex for all I care,” Jett replied, clearly not at all cool with the turn of events in his life.

“Yeah, you’re real convincing.”

“It has to do with my mom, asshole,” Jett shot back.

Taken back, I asked, “Your mom? Why?”

Jett leaned against the doorframe of my room and placed his hands in his pockets. His black dress pants were a stark contrast to his white dress shirt, and his hair looked like he’d been running his hands through it again. I’d known Jett for a very long time, and seeing him almost disheveled, key word being almost, was a change for me. He was always confident in everything he did. He never second-guessed himself, but because of the new venture, he was a little uneasy.

“I feel like I need to do something to honor her, to give back due to the short life she had. I’ve been thinking about it for a while, and the only thing I could come up with to honor my mom was helping out these women who have gone down the same path as her. I couldn’t help her, but I sure as hell can help them, starting with Barbara.”

I nodded and thought about all of the rules and the system Jett had put together for these women. It was complicated. There was a lot for me to absorb, but I could see how utilizing what they knew best to earn them a lot of cash while being able to control their environment was smart. In addition to the girls dancing and making money off the city elites, they were required to earn an education, which meant they couldn’t stay a Jett Girl forever, a very smart idea on Jett’s part. If they were going to be a part of the club, then they were going to work at developing a future outside of what they already knew.

The idea was crazy, possibly weird to accept looking in from the outside world, but it might just work. If Jett wanted to honor his mother, who was I to stop him? Hell, when the man set to accomplish something, he didn’t allow anything to stand in his way. I wasn’t about to test his limits.

“Well, we should go greet her, then,” I said, motioning for Jett to leave my room.

He took one last glance at the bare walls and tight space and shook his head. “I wish you would allow me to give you a better room.”

“Not happening, end of discussion. Let’s move.”

Jett quirked an eyebrow at me. He didn’t take kindly to direction but let it slip as he led the way through the servants’ quarters of the aged plantation house in the middle of the Garden District. The house screamed of old money, but everyone in the city knew differently. Jett wasn’t a man from old money. He’d developed his own fortune, strategically investing, developing several contacts throughout the city, and conducting business in a respectful manner, which was more than what his father, Leo, could account for.

Just as we walked up to the front door, Jett’s driver pulled up in front of the gates and walked around to open the door for a very timid-looking woman.

Barbara.

Her ratty hair was a dirty blonde color, and I wasn’t sure if it was unwashed or the true color of her hair. Her clothes swallowed her whole, she was so thin.  Her eyes widened in surprise at the extravagance of the house in front of her.

Between her arms, clutched to her chest, was a garbage bag that seemed to have some of her possessions in it. I scanned her up and down, and a light stab took place in my chest. This woman needed help, she needed a second chance in life, and Jett was willing to offer her that chance.

Jett stepped forward. “Welcome, Barbara. Please, come in.”

She walked toward us suspiciously, clutching her bag and eyeing us up and down. She wet her lips and said, “How much?”