by A. C. Arthur
“I’m an executive at Bennett Industries. I’m thirty-nine years old and I live in Greenwich. What else would you like to know?”
She blinked and digested that information. “Why are you here?” she asked.
“Because I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he replied as simply as if he’d just given her his date of birth.
“I told you I wasn’t a prostitute,” she insisted. “And I don’t sleep around, despite how last night may have appeared.”
He looked at her seriously. “And I’ve never paid a prostitute to have sex with me. Despite how last night may have appeared.”
“This is crazy,” Eva said, sighing again and running her fingers through her short curls.
“I’ll admit this is a different type of situation for me too,” Rico added with a shrug. “But I’m not adverse to change.”
“Well, I am,” she told him. “I’ve had enough upheaval in my life. I was doing good here for a while, until last night.”
“You liked dancing,” he said, still watching her. “Do you dance at TEASE?”
“Are you asking me if I’m a stripper?”
She was standing in her house, dressed in old ratty clothes and probably looking like she’d just rolled out from under the bed, and he was asking her if she took her clothes off for money. If this scenario didn’t agitate her so much, she might have thought it was funny.
Rico only lifted a brow, a dark brow amidst his light hued skin. His hair was dark too, like a raven’s wing, and wavy. He had an exotic look to him, like maybe he was of a mixed race. And he was gorgeous. His strong jaw, aristocratic nose and those eyes, damn, he was just a really good looking man. And he’d gone through a lot to stand in her living room and ask her questions. Well, she figured, maybe he should get the answers he wanted. Maybe the truth would shut down his curiosity once and for all.
“Yes, Rico Bennett. I’m a stripper. I go by the name of Eva Romaine. However, I don’t do private shows, so if that’s what you’re looking for, you’ll have to show up at the club tonight at nine fifteen. And I only take cash.”
#
Rico didn’t know what he wanted.
Truth be told he was still reeling from last night. From going to a sex club, to having the best sex he’d ever had in his life, with a woman, who, as it turned out, didn’t even work there. He’d been beyond shocked at her words when she’d left him standing in that room, his dick still hard for her. Minutes later, after a trip to the bathroom and a couple of splashes of cold water on his face, he’d set out to find out who the hell she was.
“She doesn’t work here, Mr. Bennett?” the floor attendant had told him.
“What the hell do you mean she doesn’t work here? Why did you bring her to the room if she’s not an employee?”
The woman raised a very elaborately arched brow at him before replying, “She was a guest here, just as you are. You requested her and we accommodated your request.”
“How can I request a person that doesn’t work for you? You advertise a satisfying experience here and I’m telling you right now that I am not satisfied.” No, he was confused and working up to being enraged.
If she wasn’t a staff member then why the hell did she let him…why did she agree to…? He didn’t even know how to put it into words. This was definitely not the type of evening he’d bargained for, and yet, to a certain extent, it was.
“What’s her name?” he asked through clenched teeth, his hands fisting at his sides.
“Eva Romaine,” she replied.
“What’s her address? How can I get in contact with her?”
“I don’t have that information,” she answered, shaking her head.
“Why don’t you have that information? Look on your little tablet and tell me what I want to know.” He was losing it, he could feel it.
This wasn’t like him. Renny was the hot head of the family. Rico was normally the voice of reason. Alex was the know-it-all so he would never find himself in this predicament in the first place.
“As a guest, we only have her name and the name of the person who invited her,” she told him.
“Well, who is the member? Tell me and I’ll take my questions to him,” he said, trying like hell to sound more reasonable.
“It’s a she and she’s not a member. She’s a hostess. Starshine.”
What the hell kind of name was that? Rico rolled his neck on his shoulders, still making the effort to calm down. He was in a sex club where women were paid to show men a good time. No matter how professional and sophisticated an outfit this place was, the type of business that took place here was still pretty simple. Which is why he was convinced that the information he sought shouldn’t be this hard to ascertain.
“Where can I find Starshine?” he asked.
The floor attendant tapped on the tablet for a moment too long, and Rico walked around the desk to look over her shoulder.
“She’s upstairs,” he said after reading the color coded chart on the screen. “Thank you, I’ll just go up there and speak to her.”
“You can’t do that, Mr. Bennett. She’s with members right now.”
“Are the members she’s with shareholders in this company?” Rico asked. He was speaking of Jerald Carrington, not himself, which she probably knew. Either way, the threat was still clear.
“Sir, please. I ask that you remain courteous to all members and staff,” she implored.
Rico bristled at the fact that she’d had to tell him that in the first place. His mother would have been livid if she knew that he was being anything but polite. Beatriz Bennett was a stickler for manners and respect, at all times.
“I will,” he told her with a nod and walked towards the elevators.
The upper level of The Corporation was similar to the first in that there was a floor attendant waiting as soon as he stepped off the elevator. A statuesque redhead, holding the same type of tablet as the woman downstairs and sporting an ear piece that he knew meant she was aware of who he was and where he was going.
“The Aloha Room is this way, Mr. Bennett. I’ll walk you down,” she said coming from around the desk and leading the way down the hall.
Rico followed, asking himself over and over again why the hell he was doing this. He really needed to stop questioning himself since the answers he desired weren’t coming anyway.
She paused at a black door. There were no numbers or letters or anything to delineate it from the others, but he presumed she would know the difference. When a gentleman—still dressed in his pants and dress shirt, to Rico’s relief—answered, the woman asked politely to speak to Starshine. Rico had to admit he didn’t know what to expect at that name. Was this woman going to be as bright as a star? So gorgeous that she shined? Or, perhaps the name represented her talents. He frowned because that was not what he wanted to think about at this moment.
When the attractive woman—who, while pretty also struck him as if she could be any woman on the street—stepped into the hallway, Rico was momentarily speechless. Nothing about tonight was as he’d thought it would be.
“I’m not telling you where she lives,” had been Starshine’s response after he’d asked for Eva’s address. “She doesn’t work here so she doesn’t want to hear from any of the members.”
“We had an, ah…conversation, this evening,” Rico told her. “I’d just like to continue speaking with her.”
Starshine shook her head adamantly. “Then you should have asked for her phone number. Or maybe you did and you struck out. Either way, I don’t have to divulge her personal information. So you can find yourself another way to have a good night.”
With that she was gone and Rico was left with no more information than he had before coming up here. That irritated him to no end.
So the late night call to Sam Desdune had taken place in Rico’s hotel room. Rico and Sam went way back to the time when the Bennetts were receiving death threats. Sam and his private investigating firm had proven to be well worth the mo
ney they’d been paid. In minutes, the request had been made and Sam, even though he was wary, agreed to get Rico the information. By six a.m. the next morning there was a complete report on official D&D Investigations’ letterhead waiting in Rico’s inbox.
Standing in her apartment now, staring at a woman that looked so drastically different than she had last night, and knowing what he now knew about her was definitely surprising. And intriguing. Which was why he was still here.
“I liked watching you dance last night,” he said, looking away from her.
He made her uncomfortable. He could tell by the way she fidgeted whenever he stared at her and how she kept folding and releasing her arms.
“That was a freebie,” she told him.
Rico nodded and continued to move around her small living room. The furniture in here was basic, a sofa and a love seat. A recliner off to one corner, a big screen television mounted on the wall opposite the sofa. The colors were soft, beige and peach, a few knickknacks on the coffee table, framed pictures on the end tables. What really caught his eye was a large painting. It was hanging over the sofa and stretched the entire length of the wall.
It was of a dancer, that part he could see clearly. She wore a white dress that at first appeared bright against the stark black background, but then drifted away with the swaying and fluid motions of the brush. In the back of his mind he could hear the music, similar to the classical notes that were playing last night. She would be on the stage alone, moving as if the music played only for her. The uplifting of her arms, the way her head was tossed back, the effortless stretch of her body, it was absolutely perfect and the sexiest thing he’d ever seen.
Then he turned and saw Eva.
She was watching him as he looked at that painting and something in the way she was standing, the expectancy in her gaze as she waited silently, had his heart beating just a little faster.
“Did you paint this?” he asked, pointing back to the painting.
She blinked as if she wasn’t yet certain if she were going to answer him.
Then she shrugged, and replied, “Yes.”
“You’re a dancer that also paints,” he said. “Why is everything about you so unexpected to me?”
He hadn’t meant to speak the question out loud, but now that he did, Rico wanted that answer more desperately than any of the other questions he’d been asking himself since he’d arrived in New York.
“What else have you painted? Can I see your work?”
“No,” she replied quickly. “I mean, why? I don’t understand why you’re here, Rico or why you want to know so much about me.”
“Because I do,” was the only response he could manage. “I liked watching you dance last night and I really enjoyed touching and feeling you.”
She moved again, this time clasping her hands behind her back. Rico wondered if she knew how innocent and enticing that stance made her appear.
“I’m starting to think that I must like you, Eva. And since I’m not really the type of guy to mince words I figure I should tell you right now that I’m looking forward to touching and feeling you again.”
She shook her head this time. “Stop it,” she said, sighing and then inhaling deeply. “I can’t keep up with you. First, you show up here when this is the last place in the world you should be and then you’re asking why I’m a stripper and an artist. You had someone look into my background and now you’re telling me you want to have sex with me again. I don’t understand any of this, and to tell you the truth Mr. Bennett, I think it might just be better if you leave.”
Rico did not want to leave. In fact, he could think of nothing else he’d rather do than stay here with her. Some would believe he was a man used to getting what he wanted, but they’d be sadly mistaken. Rico was a man used to doing what was expected of him. He walked the straight line and was sometimes tasked with making sure others did the same. The right thing to do here would be to respect Eva’s wishes and leave. She was absolutely correct in saying that he was confusing her. Hell, Rico was confusing himself. None of what had happened from the moment he’d seen her at that club, to this very second, was something he would normally do. Yet, he couldn’t find it in himself to feel any regret, or to consider backing away.
“You’re right,” he told her. “I apologize. This must seem really bizarre to you. I can see how it would, but believe me, I’m not here to cause you any harm. As a matter of fact, I’d like to invite you to a gallery showing. It’s today at four. I can come back and pick you up.”
This time she folded her arms and eyed him cautiously. “You didn’t know I was an artist until just a few minutes ago and now there’s suddenly a gallery showing you want to take me to. Look, I don’t know what type of women you’re used to dealing with, but trust me when I say, I am not the one.” She stopped talking before she made it to the door, her hand poised over the knob when Rico spoke again.
“It’s at the Lakefield Gallery. Lorenzo Bennett is featuring his “Love In The Springtime” collection,” he told her. “And again, you are right. I didn’t know you were an artist when I came here, but Lorenzo is my brother and I did have plans to stop by the gallery today to support him.”
His words hit the exact mark he’d been aiming for, rendering her completely still, her back towards him.
“So, what do you say, Eva? I can come back around three to pick you up?”
Chapter 5
From the outside, the building looked much like other buildings in Manhattan—red brick, black iron fire escape stretching up the length of its front, large black framed windows and the address and the name of whichever business it housed on a square sign.
Large slim letters, black against a platinum background, announced the Lakefield Galleries. The first floor boasted sparkling clean store-front windows and double doors, all framed in shining silver metal. Above the doors were the building’s street numbers in the same contemporary font that was on the sign.
“You ready?” Rico asked.
It took Eva a moment to realize she’d been sitting in the now parked smoke gray Range Rover, not saying a word and not making any attempt to get out.
“Yes,” she replied quickly. “I’m…ah, I’m ready.”
He gave her a small smile before stepping out of the driver’s side door. She was reaching for the passenger door handle, when it opened for her. A man dressed in black pants and a red jacket held the door wide for her to get out. Rico came up quickly, passing the man the keys to the truck. He reached for Eva’s hand. She took it and let him lead her out of the truck, even though she was quite capable of getting out on her own.
“Nervous?” he asked as they stepped up onto the sidewalk.
“Not really,” she lied. “I’ve been to an art gallery before.”
He nodded, continuing to walk toward the doors. “You’re extremely talented, so I’m sure you’ve been to more than your share of art galleries. I only asked because you’re biting your bottom lip. That’s normally a sign of someone being nervous.”
She hadn’t realized she’d been doing that and immediately ceased as they stopped in front of the double doors.
“I’ve never met an artist whose exhibit I’m seeing,” she told him.
“Then that’s another reason I’m glad I came to New York for the weekend,” he said, this time, smiling as he opened the door.
He had a great smile. It formed slowly, but grabbed every bit of her attention as it grew, displaying straight white teeth and the expertly shaped mustache. Walking inside ahead of him, Eva tried not to let how handsome he was go to her head. Hell, she’d been trying all afternoon to get over how rich and successful he and his family were, as well.
Kenya had given her that information the moment they’d stepped into the dress shop on 25th Street earlier today. They’d spent a few hours shopping because Kenya was convinced Eva needed something new to wear to the gallery. Telling Kenya about the gallery invitation also meant Eva had to come clean about what she’d done
last night. Kenya’s reaction had been quick.
“You do know he’s Ricardo Bennett, second son of three fine ass men born to Marvin Bennett, the communications mogul and Beatriz Bennett, formerly Beatriz de Carriero, the crown princess of Pirata,” she’d said, all in one breath.
“Where in the world is Pirata and why do you know all of this?” Eva asked as they walked to the back of the store.
Eva very rarely shopped in the city for her clothes. The skimpy outfits she wore at work were handmade by a woman named Peaches who she and Kenya were introduced to about a week after working at the club. As for her casual wear, Eva preferred to shop online. Her size twelve, short, pants were always available online, whereas in stores they seemed to cater to the “regular” sized people of the world.
“It’s a small village in Brazil and I know this because you know I’m a tech geek and a few years ago Bennett Industries merged with Coastal Technologies—which were, at the time, the bane of my existence because their accounting software sucked big time! Anyway, once Coastal merged with Bennett Industries the products they produced were of a much better quality. So I did a little research on the Bennetts and even once toyed with the idea of applying for a position there.”
“You applied for a position at a multi-national company? What type of position?” Eva asked, trying not to sound so surprised.
Kenya was already pushing jackets over a rack, her attention divided between looking for something for Eva to wear, and on the conversation.
“Bennett Industries was in communications before it added the technology division, so they have this social networking department where reps tell clients how to better use social networking to benefit their businesses. You know I can tell you anything about Snapchat, Kik, Twitter, any of those sites, you name it, I’ve got an account and I’ve mastered them. How do you think so many men know about Starshine?” With that she’d given Eva a smile and a wiggle of her prettily arched brows.
Eva grinned in return.
“Okay, so Rico’s a rich guy. I suspected that since he was at The Corporation,” she said shaking her head at a red jacket with rhinestone lapels that Kenya held up.
