At one o clock, he was cursing and nursing a stiff whisky. At two in the morning he had enough. He knew Tally too well. She was an instigator and determined to torture and torment the men she knew. She drove her husbands crazy at the office, and when they could take no more she conspired with the other women to make their husbands’ lives hell. She was continually thinking of ways sneak into The Club without Devril or Lucian, and even worse, she was sneaking the other women in. Forget about just asking, the woman thought she had to play fucking commando. At three that morning, the limo pulled into the driveway in front of the Conover mansion. Every light in the lower level of the house appeared to be on as Ian strode up the front steps. As the butler opened the door, a scowl on his taciturn face, Ian could hear the pulsing beat of Depeche Mode pounding through the house. “Sir. Misters Conover have retired to that attic, I believe, for the safety of their eardrums.” It was evident Devril and Lucian had left the brawny ex-bouncer, Tim, to keep an eye out for the mayhem developing.
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