Lust Meter System: Conquering Beauties-Chapter 75: Big Money Move 2

Davies’s kia optima stayed ahead, weaving through traffic with practiced ease.

Liam kept a steady distance behind, one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the center console.

Tasha sat beside him, silent, her eyes tracking the buildings as they passed.

The cityscape shifted gradually.

The cracked sidewalks and faded storefronts gave way to cleaner streets.

The buildings grew taller, their facades fresher.

Paint that wasn’t peeling. Windows that weren’t boarded up or covered in grime.

Trees lined the sidewalks—actual trees with green leaves that rustled in the breeze.

Not the half-dead, skeletal things they’d passed earlier, but full, healthy oaks and maples that provided shade over benches where people actually sat.

"This is different," Tasha said, her voice quiet.

Liam nodded. "Yeah."

Traffic thickened slightly as they entered what looked like a commercial district.

People walked with purpose, carrying shopping bags, pushing strollers, talking on phones.

A woman in a yellow sundress stopped to pet a dog tied up outside a café.

Davies’s brake lights flared red as he slowed, then his turn signal blinked.

He turned onto a street called John Avenue.

Liam followed.

The street was wider here, freshly paved with clean white lines marking the diagonal parking spaces.

On both sides, businesses lined the block—storefronts with large windows and colorful awnings. A café with outdoor seating.

A hardware store with its door propped open. A boutique clothing shop with mannequins in the window.

Everything looked maintained. Cared for.

Davies’s silver Kia Optima pulled over in front of a building about halfway down the block and parked.

Liam slowed and pulled in behind him, cutting the engine.

He sat there for a moment, hands still on the wheel, just looking.

The building was single-story, long and rectangular, stretching about sixty feet across the lot. Red brick with a darker, almost burgundy hue where the sun hit it directly.

The brickwork was clean, no obvious cracks or water stains.

Large windows lined the front—four of them, each about six feet wide and five feet tall, framed in white-painted wood that looked recently touched up.

The glass was clear, no cracks. Sunlight poured through them, and Liam could see the interior was open and empty.

The entrance was set back slightly from the sidewalk.

A wide glass door with brass handles sat in the center. Above the door, faded lettering read **Morton & Co. Manufacturing** in old-style serif font, the paint worn but still legible.

The roof was flat, covered in what looked like newer material—dark gray, maybe rubber.

No visible sagging or damage.

Liam opened his door and stepped out.

The air smelled different here and cleaner, the air was filled with just the scent of fresh bread from the bakery a few doors down and something floral.

Tasha climbed out beside him, adjusting her cap. She looked around slowly, her eyes moving from the building to the street and back again.

Davies walked over, keys jingling in his hand. "This is it," he said, gesturing toward the building.

Liam nodded, his eyes still moving over the exterior.

He walked closer, stopping just outside the entrance.

He crouched down and ran his hand along the base of the brick. No moisture. No moss or algae growing in the cracks. Just solid, dry brick.

He stood and walked to one of the large windows, peering inside. The space was empty, but even from here he could see the floor was level.

"It’s a good area," Davies said, coming to stand beside him. "Foot traffic’s steady throughout the day. Businesses here do well. Rent’s higher than Bennett Street, obviously, but you’re paying for location and quality."

Liam glanced at him. "What was this place before?"

"Manufacturing warehouse. Morton & Co. made small machine parts—screws, bolts, fittings.

They operated here for about thirty years before they moved to a larger facility outside the city. Building’s been vacant for about two months."

"Any structural issues?"

"None that I’m aware of. The inspection report came back clean. Roof was replaced six years ago. Plumbing and electrical were updated about ten years ago."

Liam nodded slowly.

He walked along the front, checking the mortar, the window frames, the alignment of the bricks.

’Everything looks solid.’

Davies unlocked the front door and pushed it open. The hinges moved smoothly, no creaking.

The smell that greeted them was neutral—faint traces of sawdust and old varnish, but nothing musty or damp.

Liam stepped inside.

The interior opened into one large, open space. The room stretched about sixty feet deep and forty feet wide. The ceiling was high—maybe fourteen feet at its peak—with exposed wooden beams running across the top.

The floor was polished concrete, smooth and level. Liam walked slowly across it, his footsteps echoing slightly in the empty space. He crouched again, running his hand over the surface. No cracks. No chips.

The walls were exposed brick on three sides, painted white. The fourth wall, the one with the windows, let in streams of sunlight that cut across the floor in sharp, clean rectangles.

Natural light flooded the space, bright and warm. Liam could already picture how it would look with equipment set up, work stations arranged, tools hanging on the walls.

At the back of the room, on the right side, was a doorway leading to what looked like a small office. On the left side, another door—probably leading to the loading bay.

Between them, mounted on the wall, was the electrical panel.

Liam walked toward it. He reached the electrical panel and opened it.

Inside, the wiring was modern—copper cables with proper insulation, neatly bundled and labeled. Circuit breakers instead of old fuses. Everything was organized.

Liam closed the panel and nodded to himself.

He walked to the door on the left and opened it. It led to a short corridor that opened into the loading bay area. The bay door was a standard roll-up, the mechanism looked functional and well-maintained.

He returned to the main room and crossed to the other door. Inside was a small office, maybe twelve by ten feet. A single window on the back wall let in light. There was enough space for a desk, a filing cabinet, maybe storage shelves.

Liam stepped back out into the main room.

Davies stood near the entrance, hands in his pockets, watching. Tasha stood a few feet away, her arms crossed, still observing the space quietly.

Liam turned to her. "So what do you think?"

She looked around once more, then met his eyes. "It’s okay."

He nodded.

Liam walked back to the center of the room and turned slowly, taking it all in one more time.

The high ceilings. The natural light. The solid floor.

He stepped back and looked at Davies.

"This is perfect."

Davies smiled, and this time it looked genuine. Relief flickered across his face. "I’m glad to hear that. I thought it might be exactly what you were looking for."

"It is," Liam said, his voice firm. "The structure’s solid. The location’s good. It’s exactly what I need."

Davies nodded, pulling a small notepad from his pocket. "Excellent. I can start drawing up the paperwork this afternoon. We can schedule a walk-through with the inspector if you’d like—"

The front door swung open.

Everyone turned.

Two men stepped inside.

The first one was tall—easily six-two—with broad shoulders that filled out the black jacket he wore over a faded gray T-shirt.

His head was shaved clean.

He had a thick neck and a jaw that looked like it had taken a few punches.

His nose had been broken at least once, sitting slightly crooked.

His jeans hung loose, held up by a worn leather belt with a heavy buckle. His boots were scuffed, heavy-soled.

The second man was shorter but stockier, built like someone who’d spent a lot of time lifting weights.

He had a buzz cut, short enough that his scalp was visible underneath.

A scar ran from his left eyebrow down to his cheekbone.

He wore cargo pants and a green bomber jacket.

Both of them stopped just inside the doorway, their eyes sweeping the room before landing on Davies.

The taller one grinned. It was a slow, lazy grin, the kind that didn’t reach his eyes.

"Well, well," he said, his voice rough and gravelly. "Look who it is."

The shorter one let out a sharp, barking laugh. "Mr. Davies. Back again, huh? Didn’t think we’d see you so soon."

Davies’s jaw tightened. His fingers curled slightly at his sides, but he forced a smile onto his face. "Gentlemen."

The taller one walked further into the room, his hands sliding into his jacket pockets. His grin widened as he looked Davies up and down. "You know, you never learn, do you? How many times is this now? Three? Four?"

"Three," the shorter one said, crossing his arms. "This is number three."

"Right, right." The tall one nodded slowly, then turned his grin toward Liam.

His eyes moved over him, taking in the younger man’s face, his clothes, his posture. "So who’s this guy? Another brave soul ready to throw his money away?"

Davies cleared his throat. "This is my client. Liam, this is—"

"We know who we are," the tall one interrupted, waving a hand dismissively. He kept his eyes on Liam. "So, Liam. Davies here tell you about the requirements?"

Liam met his gaze without blinking. "He did."

The shorter one raised an eyebrow. "And you’re still here? Most people hear the number and walk out before they even finish the tour."

"I’m still here," Liam said evenly.

The two men exchanged a glance.

The taller one’s grin grew wider. He let out a low chuckle. "Alright then. Guess we’re doing this again." He gestured toward the door.

"Come on. Let’s take you to see the boss. He’ll explain how things work around here."

Liam didn’t move immediately. He glanced at Tasha, then back at the two men. "Fine."

He turned toward Tasha. "Wait here."

She shook her head immediately. "No."

Liam’s eyes narrowed. "Tasha—"

"I’m going with you."

"You were listening to me just fine before," Liam said quietly, his voice tight with controlled frustration. "Now you’ve chosen not to?"

"I’m going," she said again, stepping closer. Her chin lifted slightly, defiant.

"It’s going to be dangerous," Liam said, his voice dropping lower. "I don’t want to have to start worrying about you."

Tasha’s eyes met his, steady and unwavering. "I can take care of myself."

Liam stared at her for a long moment. He could see the determination in her eyes, the set of her shoulders. She wasn’t going to back down.

He let out a sharp breath through his nose and shook his head. "Fine."

The taller man laughed again, louder this time, slapping his thigh. "Oh, this is gonna be good. Alright, lovebirds. Let’s go."