Chapter 25

Soren had reached out through the WE to schedule a meeting with Frank Devon, explaining that Henrik Dahl, a businessman from Norway, wished to express his appreciation for the service he’d received the night before. Frank tried to decline—thanks were unnecessary, he said—but Soren was insistent. At last Frank relented.

The next morning Henrik and Soren arrived by taxi, dressed again in tailored suits and ties, their calm, businesslike composure filling the doorway.

Gut greeted him at the front counter and opened the door to admit Henrik and Soren.

A poised woman in a fitted suit met them inside. “Hi, I’m Lisa. I manage Club Velvet. Frank asked me to bring you upstairs.”

“Lisa,” Henrik said warmly, extending his hand. “I’m Henrik, and this is my assistant and translator, Soren. Thank you for your time.”

They chatted easily in the elevator as they passed the VIP floors. Both men spoke with genuine pleasure about the evening before.

Lisa smiled. “Our dancers care about what they do. They want to be here. That makes all the difference.”

She opened the office door. “Henrik, Soren—this is Frank Devon, owner of Velvet Entertainment and Club Velvet.”

Frank rose, came around his desk, and shook their hands with an easy grin. “Good morning, gentlemen. My chef’s sending up breakfast pastries.”

They settled around the small meeting table.

“Last night I rented one of your VIP lounges,” Henrik began. “My dancer, Mara, was extraordinary.”

Frank and Lisa exchanged knowing smiles. “She’s very good,” Frank said. “She cares about everyone who walks in,” Lisa added.

Henrik nodded. “That’s what brings me here. I own a fitness-equipment company in Europe. I’ve built wealth—but never found love. I’ve visited brothels when the need arose, but they were hollow. The women were flawless, the service impeccable, yet the experience was empty.”

Soren picked up smoothly. “Here, though, the energy was different. I spent time with Karly, and for the first time I felt seen. She told me it’s because of your Rule Ten. It makes sense.”

Frank inclined his head. “It does. Everyone who works here chooses to be here. Their goal is to connect—sometimes through fantasy, sometimes through a simple act of care. It’s about making people feel loved, even for a moment.”

Both visitors leaned back, thoughtful. “How long have you run this business?” Henrik asked.

“I started the first Club Velvet in Metro City—before the WE,” Frank said. “Even then, I kept the place clean. No drugs. Only professionals. And I treated them well. After the WE, I expanded to a suburban club, bought a failing club in East St Louis, took on a partner, opened this club in Chicago and then the club in New York City.”

Frank continued, “I’ve always had a rule: never get personal with the dancers or servers. This is their workplace, not my playground. I broke that rule once—never again.”

Lisa laughed softly. “Well, except for Ronny. She’s a special case.”

“Ronny?” Soren asked.

“Ronny’s one of our dancers,” Frank said. “She’s also my wife. Lisa here is, too—and Jane who is at home. We’re a family pack.”

Henrik blinked. “Three wives? And one dances here? How do you manage it and become jealous?”

Lisa answered with a patient smile. “It works for us. This is a job like any other. A customer might touch her hand, but not her heart. That part belongs to us.”

Henrik considered that in silence until the arrival of pastries broke the moment—warm dough balls dusted with cinnamon and sugar, glazed with a cherry sheen.

The visitors tasted them and hummed with delight. “Where did you find your chef?”

Frank chuckled. “Hired my chef straight out of culinary school. Told him the food had to be simple, good, and honest. Hence, cinnamon-cherry dough balls.”

When the plates were nearly empty, Henrik leaned forward. “Mr. Devon, Mrs. Devon—could something like this exist in Europe? In Norway, perhaps?”

Lisa’s fork landed with a louder-than-intended clink. Frank steadied her hand.

“Do you mean you’d run it, or that I’d bring Velvet there for you to visit?” Frank asked.

“I’d like to partner with you,” Henrik said. “Same energy, same standard—just ... closer to home.”

Frank dabbed his mouth with a napkin. “That would be difficult. Our children are still young.”

“The twins are in grade school and Sofia’s in high school,” Lisa added.

“And Lisa can’t leave the Chicago club,” Frank said. “Ronny might, but she wouldn’t go without her babies.”

“Nor would I,” Lisa said firmly.

Henrik lifted both hands, disarming. “My apologies. I never meant to disrupt your family. I was thinking out loud.”

Soren cleared his throat. “Perhaps you could consult us instead. A partnership in spirit—your guidance, our work on the ground. Silent partners, but with your philosophy.”

Lisa’s tension eased. “That,” she said, “we can do.”

At that moment Ronny burst into the office. “EUROPE! We’re going to Europe!” She bounded over, hugging them both.

“Ronny,” Frank said, amused, “these are Henrik Dahl and his assistant, Soren.”

She shook their hands cheerfully, then perched on Frank’s lap. “So when do we leave?”

“We haven’t decided anything yet,” Lisa said, though Ronny only waved her off. “Paperwork,” she said. “Just say yes and start packing.”

The men laughed; Lisa sighed.

Henrik reached for another pastry. “I’ve worked with consultants before. I’m sure we can agree on a fair fee.”

Frank rubbed Ronny’s back, smiling at her enthusiasm. Are you sure about this? he asked silently.

We’re sure, the pack answered as one. It’ll be good for us.

“Henrik,” Frank said aloud, “I’m honored. Send me a proposal. If the timing works, we’ll find a way to make it happen.”

They rose, shook hands, and Lisa escorted the guests downstairs.

Ronny lingered, curled in Frank’s lap. “This could be tough,” he murmured.

“I know,” she said. “But I’ve always wanted to go.”

“You know I might be gone for weeks. Could you handle that?”

She thought about the twins, then sighed. “Not really. Jane can’t handle everything alone. I’d have to stay.”

Frank brushed her cheek. “Then I’ll bring you something back.”

Her eyes lit up. “A purse. Shoes. Chocolate.”

He laughed. “You’re easy to read, Ronny Devon.”

She grinned. “You know me too well.”

Lisa returned, leaned down, and whispered with a wink, “Add a purse for me too.”

That night when everyone was home and snuggled on the couch, Frank asked a question. “How much is my time worth?”

Well that got several different answers from the pack. Some teasing, some honest. Jane said millions, Lisa said nothing while Veronica added her answer to the mix.

No one knew. All agreed that he was invaluable and no number could represent what he was worth to them.

“I guess we’ll have to see what the offer is.” He concluded and let the topic drop.

“Just remember that if you go to Europe, I want a purse as well.” Jane said laughing.

When the contract arrived via Express Delivery, Frank was in his office checking reports and talking to dancers and managers from all of his locations to make sure that everything was running smoothly.

He took the contract out and started reading. A hand written note was attached to the first page. “Mr. Devon, let me know if this is not enough. Your expertise is invaluable and I want to be successful.”