Three Sweet Nothings (Blindfold Club #5)

by Nikki Sloane

  “Want to know what my second thought was?”

  “Please tell me it was that he’s a son of a bitch.”

  Her smile was bigger this time. “That was my third thought. My second one was nothing was wrong with me. Tariq is who he is. He isn’t going to change, and I realized I couldn’t love the man he is. I tried.”

  She laid the document down on my desk and signed beside the sticky tab pointing to the signature line. When it was done, she handed it to me, letting out a breath. A sigh of relief?

  “Just my opinion,” I said, “but it doesn’t sound like he ever deserved you.”

  A soft laugh bubbled out of her. “That’s what Julius keeps telling me.”

  “He’s a smart guy.” I saw the opportunity and seized on it. “How’s the divorce going to affect your friendship with him?”

  She contemplated for a moment. “He was Tariq’s boy before we met, but . . . I dunno. We talk a lot now. Ever since Tariq got traded and we came to Chicago, Julius has been there for me.” Was it the afternoon sunlight coming through my window that lit her eyes, or the thought of him? “He’s like my friend now.”

  It was good to hear, but I didn’t want him to be friend-zoned forever. Could I plant the idea in her head? Maybe she just needed a nudge to see Julius in a new light. The question pushed past my lips before I could reel it in. “You ever wonder if he’ll be interested in more?”

  Her breath caught and warm color splashed on her pretty face. Her eyes shifted away, shy. Holy shit.

  She knew.

  Courtney’s voice was soft. “I married his best friend. He’ll never make a move.”

  “Then, I guess if you’re interested, you’ll have to do it. When you’re ready.”

  Her eyes widened. “I doubt I can compete with the girls at his club.”

  I tried to be nonchalant, but my pulse quickened. “His wine club?”

  “Yes.” She seemed to scrutinize me just as much as I did her. Gauging each other’s response. Did she know what Julius really did? Was she trying to figure out if I knew?

  “It’s funny,” she said, “how he owns the club. Julius doesn’t even like wine.”

  Oh, she definitely knew. But how? Tariq acted like she didn’t.

  “That is funny,” I said. “It’s also strange how he got his start there. I wouldn’t think a wine club would need such heavy security.” The meaning was clear on my face. “How’d you hear about the kind of wine they sell there?”

  “Another player’s wife. She, uh, goes to the club with her husband.” A blush washed over her face. “Anyway, when she told me it pretends to be an exclusive wine club, and what part of town it’s in . . . It wasn’t hard to put together.”

  “You haven’t talked about it with Julius, though?”

  Courtney shook her head slowly. “Yeah . . . I don’t know how to start that conversation. I guess I’ll wait for him to tell me.”

  Would he, though? It didn’t sound like she knew Tariq was visiting the club, and although she seemed to accept what Julius did, it might be a different story if she found out everything.

  Both our gazes sank down to the divorce papers on my desk.

  “Is that it?” she asked quietly.

  “I’ll file these with the judge and let you know when it’s official.” When she stood, I rose from my desk. “I’ll be in touch.”

  I escorted her to the front, passing by the main conference room where both my parents were seated with a team of attorneys. My father’s gaze tracked me the entire way. If I had followed exactly in his footsteps, right now I’d be thinking about the nice paycheck heading my direction. There’d been a lot of billable hours, thanks to Tariq’s stalling. Instead I was thinking about Julius and Courtney, and if they’d be able to develop their relationship into more.

  I was becoming less and less like my parents every day. I’d fled Chicago, hoping the distance would prevent me from turning into them, but it was back here where I felt like I’d truly broken free.

  Courtney gave me a soft smile as she slipped on her coat. “Thank you, Mr. McCreary.”

  She was friends with Julius, as was I, and I genuinely hoped to see her again. “It’s Kyle, and you’re welcome.”

  My phone chimed with a text message and I glanced at it as she stepped into the elevator. A single line of text from Ruby.

  She had stirred up all these feelings, and when they spilled out, it brought other ones into play. She’d changed me for the better, more or less.

  Was it possible? Could I do the same to her?

  Chapter

  FORTY-TWO

  RUBY

  I sent the text message to Kyle yesterday in a moment of weakness. His radio silence was torture, but not receiving a response from him after? That was pure agony.

  I’d called Grant in a panic this afternoon, and after work was over, he’d gotten us a spot at the back of the gastro-pub one block over from my apartment. It was tiny, like they’d tried to cram too many booths along the wall, and he looked uncomfortable. He barely fit in the space.

  The tabletop was decorated with our empty drinks, more of them his than mine. The place was dark and our booth was tucked in at the end, so the server rarely came around to check on us or clear away our empties. I was glad. It gave me privacy to explain my fuck-up.

  “There’s a place here in town,” I said. “It’s an illegal, high-end brothel.”

  Grant’s stunned gaze flicked up to me. “Sorry?”

  “I can’t talk about the situation, other than to tell you I made the very wrong assumption Kyle was a client, even when my gut was telling me otherwise.” I should have trusted myself. No, fuck that. I should have trusted him. “Now, a normal, sane person would call their boyfriend and talk to him about it. They wouldn’t go to his office and accuse him in front of his boss, who also happens to be his father.”

  “Rube, you didn’t.” He appeared horrified on my behalf.

  The words were full of self-loathing as they came out. “I don’t even know what happened. Sometimes I get carried away, but with him . . . it’s a whole new level. He disables my brain.” My gaze drifted down so I could stare vacantly at the paper coaster pinned beneath my drink. “He explained what he was doing at the blindfold club, and I believe him. I apologized a bunch of times, but . . . I don’t know. He asked for time, and I haven’t heard from him since.” Could Grant hear the tremble in my voice? Could he see how close I was to breaking down? “I’m pretty sure I’m going to lose him over this.”

  A long moment passed with no words between us. There was only the sound of the noisy bar in the background.

  “You recognize you made a mistake,” he said finally. “Can you take back what happened? No, but you apologized. If he loves you, he needs to not be a McAsshole about it, yeah?”

  Grant’s expression skewed, as if he wasn’t sure what else to say, and I couldn’t blame him. He took a sip of his beer, shifted in his seat, and opened his mouth, only to snap it shut a second later.

  “Out with it,” I prompted.

  “The place he went to . . .”

  “The club?” I scanned his face, finding curiosity there. My mouth went dry. “If you’re thinking you want to do a story on it, you can’t.” I’d made sure to leave both Tariq and Payton out of it, but I couldn’t have my friend digging. “This conversation is off the record.”

  “It’s off the record,” he said, nodding. “How much do you know about it, the club?”

  “Nothing,” I lied.

  He looked disappointed, but not ready to give up. The high-class brothel had attracted Tariq Crawford. It stood to reason there were other celebrities frequenting it, maybe even politicians. The story could be a goldmine.

  “You called it the blindfold club. Why?”

  “I’m told the girls wear blindfolds.”

  “Why?” he repeated.

  “Sorry, no idea.” We needed to get off this line of questioning. “I didn’t mean to hijack this evening and make it all
about me. We came to help you get back up on the horse, so to speak. I see two options for rebounding, the redhead by the—”

  “Nah.”

  “Oh, yeah. You like blondes.” My sister had been blonde when they’d dated, as was Morgan.

  “I meant, not sure I want to pick someone up tonight.” He glanced around, surveying the bar crowd. “People who go out to the bars on a Wednesday night are strange.”

  I shot him a plain look. “We are out on a Wednesday night.”

  “Proves my point.”

  My phone vibrated, and as I glanced at the screen, my heart stopped. A text message from Kyle.

  The pull between relief he’d reached out, and dread over his ‘we need to talk’ statement threatened to tear me in two. I swallowed thickly and tapped out a response.

  I glanced up at Grant. “It’s Kyle. He wants to talk, and he says he’s already at my place.”

  “You need to take off just now?” he said, his tone casual. “It’s okay.”

  I frowned. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to ditch you, and this is the second time I’ve done it. He’s not more important than our friendship. I don’t want you thinking I’m blowing you off, but—”

  “It quite all right. I know that’s not what you’re doing.” He smiled softly. “Talking for you two is good. I understand you need to.”

  Of course he did. “You’re kind of awesome, you know that?”

  Grant’s deep laugh was warm. “See if you still think so when I say you’re picking up my tab.”

  I smiled and thumbed out a response to Kyle.

  Hopefully sooner if we could get the server’s attention. Assuming things could be smoothed over between Kyle and me, I’d make introducing him to my friend a priority.

  As the front door of the bar swung open, it no longer became necessary.

  Kyle stepped inside and his gaze swept over the crowd before settling on me all the way at the back. Had he come straight from the office? It seemed like he wore a suit beneath his long dress coat. There was a scarf knotted around his neck and the ends tucked inside the coat. He shifted the manila envelope he was carrying from one hand to the other as he tugged off his black leather gloves, shoved them in a pocket, and approached the table.

  His gaze never wavered from mine, and my breath hitched. His expression was stoic. A total fucking enigma. I couldn’t tell if he was happy to see me, or ready to get this over with.

  I knew how I felt, though.

  The air crackled with sparks. I leaned subtly forward in my seat, my body aching to be just a little closer to him. It was snowing outside, and the dusting of snowflakes melted on his hair, glinting in the low light.

  When he was close enough to reach out and touch, his attention jumped from me to Grant, and his shoulders snapped back. His eyes narrowed sharply. The ends of his mouth turned down into a scowl, like he was pissed off just at the sight of my friend.

  “Who the fuck are you?”

  I gasped. Kyle’s tone was adversarial, announcing he viewed this other man as a threat. Did he think Grant and I were here on a date?

  The booth was elevated, so Grant swiveled in his seat, put his feet on the ground and rose to his full, impressive height. “That’s funny, coming from you. I’m the one who’s been around for the last five years after you left without saying a single word to her.”

  Kyle’s chest lifted as he took in a deep breath, but otherwise there was no reaction from him; he wasn’t intimidated. His face was blank. A duck floating calmly on water, where no one but me could see the feet beneath the surface churning furiously.

  “The question is, who are you?” Grant said. “Besides the guy who broke her heart?”

  There were other sounds in the bar, but I couldn’t hear them now. All that filled my ears was the sound of Kyle’s sharp inhale. His focus shifted away from the enormous man and found me.

  I stood from my seat. “Kyle, this is my friend Grant.”

  Kyle looked at me with total disbelief, like I was nuts. “You said he plays cello.”

  “I do.” Grant was visibly annoyed.

  Kyle had probably pictured a slight, dorky looking guy, but Grant was the opposite. There’d been plenty of times he’d been practicing at home, drawing the bow across the strings while nursing a black eye from rugby.

  Kyle’s gaze bounced from mine, to Grant, and back again, as if needing confirmation. I nodded.

  “Well, shit.” Kyle looked sheepish. “You’re on her wall, and I thought you two were . . . Doesn’t matter. I’m sorry.” He thrust his hand forward. “Let’s start again. I’m Kyle.”

  “Grant.” They shook hands stiffly, and then both turned their attention to me. Grant gave an easy smile. “I’m heading off. Thanks for the drinks.” He nodded back to Kyle. “Nice to meet you, McAsshole. Have a good talk.”

  Kyle blinked. Was he deciding if he wanted to let the comment slide?

  “Hey,” I said softly, pulling his focus to me. “Let me just get the check and we can talk at my place.” Every cell in my body was tight and on edge. Was this the end?

  He stared at the empty booth, set down the envelope on the seat, and began to peel off his coat. “Here is fine.”

  Oh, God. I pressed my lips into a line to hold back the tremble. I slid down into my seat slowly, wondering how long the waitstaff would let me stay here after Kyle left. I’d sat on his doorstep at Randhurst for hours, and things would be so much harder this this time around.

  He’d barely settled in across from me before the server sashayed up and began to load her tray with the empty glasses. “Another Amstel?” It was then that she looked up and paused. “Didn’t you used to be a big, gorgeous guy?”

  “He had to leave,” Kyle said dryly. “I’ll have a bourbon and Coke.”

  When she turned to me, I shook my head, and she flitted away with her tray. It opened up room on the table, and he pulled a napkin from the dispenser, wiped away the condensation from the drinks, and dropped the envelope on the lacquered surface.

  “W-W-What’s that?” My voice was small. Goddamn stutter.

  He laid his hand on top of the envelope, and the action struck me as odd. His fingertips rested on it delicately. Whatever was inside was important, and potentially difficult. Every second of silence from him made my heart climb higher in my body until it was pounding in my ears.

  “Last time we spoke, you made me a promise, which I told you I didn’t think you could keep.” His blue eyes seemed deeper in the dark lighting, and they sucked me in. “Do you remember what you said after that?”

  I nodded so slowly, it might not have registered to him. I’d promised not to lose my head again with him. “I said I couldn’t keep my promise without your help.”

  He looked pleased and the envelope slid toward me. “Exactly. This is my offer.”

  Frantic energy buzzed through me as I bent the metal prongs inward and lifted the flap. Inside was a single sheet. A contract, judging by the format and the signature lines at the bottom.

  I made it one line before I burst into tears.

  Chapter

  FORTY-THREE

  Kyle was out of his seat in a flash. “Ruby.”

  His palms were warm on the sides of my face, his lips warmer still against my mouth. His kiss was overpowering. Emotion swept through me in a deluge, flowing outward to the tips of my fingers and toes.

  He pushed me back into the seat cushion, not letting up on his devastating kiss. The angle was adjusted, deepening the connection between us, and his tongue pressed against the seam of my lips. Was he asking permission or tempting me with more? Didn’t matter. I parted my lips and stroked my tongue against his. It was slow, and wicked, and I felt it all the way in my center.

  I was sure in this moment I’d been put on this earth just to kiss him.

  My hands found their way inside his suit jacket. I wanted it fucking gone. All his clothes, any barrier between us needed to be removed. The two days without him felt longer than the five years,
and it seemed to be the same for him. He was passionate. Desperate.

  His thumbs brushed over my cheeks, wiping away my tears, and then one hand traveled backward to gently grip a fistful of hair at the nape of my neck, tugging me back so his searing mouth could further claim me. A small action, but it lit a fire in me like a powder keg. Now that I’d had a taste of his domination, I always craved it.

  “Your bourbon and Coke, sir.”

  The server’s pointed tone wasn’t lost on either of us. Even though we were in the back of the place, Kyle was standing over me and we’d had our lips locked in a kiss that bordered on indecent.

  As she departed, he straightened and peered down at me, his hold still in my hair and his power poured over every inch of my body.

  “Why’d you order a drink?” I whispered. “All I want to do is take you home and let you fuck me into tomorrow.”

  His smile was kind of evil and insanely hot. “We have business to discuss first.”

  I sighed as he let go and sat back down, all the way on the other side of the booth that had once felt tiny but now was much too big. I’d dropped the partnership agreement on the table when the waterworks started, brought on by the last sentence of the contract.

  He’d put the biggest term in the final paragraph of our last partnership agreement, so I had chosen to start reading there this time. Before, he’d attempted to leash our emotions and prevent our relationship from going too far. This new one had very different language.

  It stated that in the event of marriage, the partnership agreement would continue to apply.

  Marriage.

  He saw a future for us, the same one I hoped for someday, which neither of us had said out loud. I picked up the contract and began to read from the beginning while Kyle watched and sipped on his drink. I read it twice, set it down, and lifted my gaze to meet his.

  “Thoughts?” He asked it casually, but I could tell he was far more interested than he let on.

  This new partnership agreement was shorter. It stated in any situations of confusion, or if one partner acted rashly, they were required to take five minutes to organize themselves and then communicate with the other. If this didn’t happen, there would be consequences. Even punishment, if necessary, to negatively reinforce that the behavior didn’t continue. It would be up to their partner to decide what form of punishment, and how much.