Dirty Laundry

by Lauren Landish

  “Yes, Elena,” I say. “I need the report from the property management division, and the Jefferson agreement. Also, if you could get me a hot cup of coffee and something to snack on. I skipped lunch. I need something to get through the afternoon.”

  Elena bows her head respectively. “Right away, sir.”

  She turns away, ready to leave, and I know it’s now or never. I tense and call out, “And Elena?”

  “Yes?”

  “Please send in Miss Price.”

  She pauses for a moment, a question in her eyes. But she doesn’t question me. “Right away, sir.”

  She disappears, and I turn back to the window. I wasn’t going to call her in. I can’t even be sure I have the right person. It could be another Roxy. But I can’t resist and I have to know.

  It’s a miracle from the highest heaven or a curse from the depths of hell if it is her. I guess it’s lucky for her that it’s me and not Nathan. He would have started kicking ass at nine in the morning.

  Five minutes after Elena leaves, there’s a quiet knock at my door, and it opens behind me.

  I don’t turn around immediately, drawing out the moment as I hear muted footsteps on the thick carpet of my office. Instead, I stand, staring out the window, feeling the sun warm my face.

  “You called for me?” Roxy’s soft voice asks, and I momentarily close my eyes. There is a hint of nervousness and anxiety in it, but her sweet, soft voice is still like music to my ears. I know I should be mad. I should be raging and demanding answers, but in those four words . . . I swear I’m hearing an angel again.

  “It’s a beautiful day today, isn’t it?” I ask. “The sun is out. The view from this office beats the one at my old one.”

  “It is,” she says, and I can hear the fear, the quaver in her voice, but also a note of something else, so soft that I don’t even think she knows it.

  I turn to see her and the breath catches in my throat. In a tight skirt and blouse, her hands clasped respectfully in front of her, she reaches out and grabs my thoughts, a jolt going through me as I take in the vision in front of me. My God, she’s fucking beautiful. She’s still got that sweet angelic face, that gorgeous curvy body. Maybe I should’ve learned my lesson, but the things I want to do to her . . .

  She gazes at me with anxiousness in her eyes. I know what she’s thinking, but she needn't worry. One look at her, and I know. Whatever happened Saturday night, she isn’t guilty of much more than maybe being overly horny.

  I grin, hiding my desire behind a boyish mask. “I bet this is the last place you expected me to show up after you left me for dead.” My tone isn't harsh but playful. I’m trying to break the ice, but it seems to have the opposite effect.

  Roxy frowns, crossing her arms over her chest. “I didn’t leave you for dead—”

  “I checked the footage. I saw that sick bastard putting a roofie in your drink,” I interrupt. “I know you had nothing to do with it.”

  Surprise shoots across her face. “You did?”

  I nod. “We’ve set the bouncers and other staff to be on the lookout. But it still doesn't explain why you left like you did. And why you took my wallet and never came back with it.”

  Roxy looks worried at first, then she cocks her head, smirking at me. “Well first of all, I thought I sent you straight to heaven,” Roxy says with spunk showing up in her voice. “I’ve gotta say, I’ve met a few guys who couldn’t hang with me, but never one who finished before we even got started. I didn’t peg you as one of those.”

  I chuckle. “Is that right?”

  “Oh, yeah. Had Mr. Creepy Bastard not gotten in the way, I would’ve showed you what paradise truly looks like.”

  I have to laugh. It feels good to talk to her. I can’t believe my luck that I ended up where she works. “But seriously,” I say. “What happened?”

  Roxy’s expression turns serious, and she walks over to the chair in front of my desk, sitting down when I give her a nod. “To be honest, when you started acting all Weekend at Bernie’s, I freaked out. I actually thought you keeled over for a second there.”

  I’m caught up quickly as Roxy starts with her story, telling me everything that happened in painstaking detail. “So when I heard your friend coming, who has a foul mouth, by the way, I panicked and ran out. It was only after we got back home that I realized I still had your wallet.”

  I stand there, silently taking in her story. It’s not really that hard to believe. Especially when it’s basically the scenario that I told myself happened over and over. I’m relieved to find out I was right. Because for some reason, I hate to think that the angelic vision in front of me is a thief. “So why didn’t you come back?”

  She bites her lower lip. “It was all so crazy. I thought no one would believe me. I still have your wallet with me, actually. It’s at my desk in my purse. I can go get it—”

  I shake my head. We’ve already wasted enough of my new work time. And I know it already looks weird that I’ve brought her into my office. I need to start getting work done. “You can give it to me later, after work,” I say. “Did you touch anything in there?”

  She shakes her head. “Everything’s there. I’ll drop it off here—”

  “No,” I interrupt her. “Bring it by the club.”

  She pauses, confusion coming over her face. “Club Jasmine? Why would I do that when I can give it to you here?”

  I nod. “I’ve got two reasons I’d rather you bring it to the club. First, because Nathan owes you an apology, and that needs to be delivered face to face. Second, I’d like to start back where we left off.”

  I love how it knocks her a little off balance. Seeing the flush that comes to her cheeks, I’m reminded of how she looked in the club. Her lips part as she nervously licks them. “But It’s a work night and—”

  “It’s fine. I’ll make sure you're back home by ten.” I give her a little wink.

  I can tell she wants to. She’s warring with herself. She probably can’t believe I still want to be with her. “I don’t know, Jake. Maybe it’s better if we stay apart.”

  “Oh, come on. We work in the same office, and you’re going to be reporting to me frequently,” I point out. “Consider this a business meeting where we can get to know a little more about each other.”

  I don’t know why I’m pushing this issue. The dynamics have changed considerably. I’m her boss now, and maintaining a respectful relationship will be a challenge. But I’ve always been one to take a challenge and conquer it. Looking at Roxy, I want to conquer her, but probably not in the way that I should be thinking.

  Roxy gives me an evaluating look, then nods. “Fine. What time?”

  “Meet me there at eight. Bring your friend if you want.”

  Roxy nods, then gets up. “Okay. Uhm, Jake . . . this is weird.”

  I nod, grinning. “I know. But I’ll see you at eight.”

  Roxy goes to the door and opens it. “Oh, and Miss Price?” I call out, slipping into more formal talk now that Elena might overhear.

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Don’t forget the wallet.”

  Roxy smirks and walks out of the office.

  Roxy

  “So, how do I look?” I ask, turning away from my bedroom mirror to face Hannah. Instead of the bright red, tonight, I’m opting for something darker. I don’t want to admit that I’m dressing up for Jake again, but as soon as I got home from work, I couldn’t imagine going back to Club Jasmine wearing what I wore for work.

  So I found this, and I’ll admit it feels even more like coming back to who I am. Dark makeup and a dark dress help slim my frame, while I’ve got on four-inch open-toe heels that make my legs and ass look good. “I can’t believe I’m going back there,” I admit to Hannah, who’s sitting on my bed and giving me an critiquing look. “I mean, after what happened, I figured Club Jasmine would be one step from the seventh circle of hell in terms of places I didn’t want to visit.”

  “So why are you doing it again?” Hann
ah asks, and I turn, adjusting the gold chain belt that I have around my waist.

  “I feel guilty for leaving him there,” I lie. Well, I do, sort of, but I’m also obviously attracted to him. “So how do I look?”

  “Like a five-hundred-per-hour hooker,” Hannah jokes. “Maybe a thousand if you do something about that damn hair.”

  I scowl. “Not funny.”

  Ignoring Hannah, I turn to address the only furry critic in the room. “You think I look good, don’t you, Mr. Felix?”

  Felix, perched on the chair next to my makeup table, stares as if he gives zero fucks with his grumpy face. “Rowr.”

  I stick my tongue out at him. “Fine, forget you. I’ll remember that come feeding time.”

  Mr. Felix still doesn’t give a fuck, giving a yawn and resuming his mean face.

  “Really, you look beautiful,” Hannah says, dropping her humor. But she pauses, a serious expression coming over face. “Still, though, I wonder . . .”

  I turn to appraise her. “Wonder what?”

  She swings her leg over the side of my bed and gets up, shaking her head slowly. “Do you think you should be seeing him outside of work?”

  “What do you mean?” I ask.

  “It was all fun and games before, and if it were anyone else, I still would tell you to go for it. But Jake is your boss now. And considering how you tried to screw his brains out on your first meeting, I’d say y’all aren’t starting on the right foot professionally.” She takes a deep breath. “I just don’t think this is a good look.”

  I place my hands on my hips, trying to think of every damn excuse I can to justify going. “Just because he’s now my boss doesn’t mean I can’t go meet with him. Which he guilt tripped me into doing, I might add. Plus, I still have to give him his wallet.”

  “Yeah, I know that but—” Hannah starts, but I hold up a hand.

  “And who’s saying I’m going to sleep with him?”

  At least not tonight.

  Hannah opens her mouth to speak and then sees the look on my face. I’ve seen it before. It’s one I’ve inherited from my mother and my sister, the one that says Proceed with caution. Your ass is on thin ice. She takes another deep breath and lowers her voice. “Look, all I’m trying to say is that it’s different when you work with someone. Especially someone who’s your boss. If this is going to be friendly cordial, keep it friendly cordial. I just don’t think you should let it go beyond that, even if that’s how this all started. You don’t want people saying shit around the office.”

  I want to deny Hannah’s words, but I have to admit that the same thoughts occurred to me as soon as Jake asked. But I’ve tried to ignore them. I just want an ending to our first night, dammit! I’m hungry for it. I want to know what lies behind those gorgeous eyes and that sun-bright smile. And yeah, part of me feels guilty and wants to make it up to him for leaving him like that in the club. That was a dick move on my part.

  “I’ll keep it in mind,” I finally say. “You’re right. It won’t be good if this turns into something else. So I’ll keep it all business. Strictly professional.” I almost sound like I’ve convinced myself. “I’ll go there, give him his wallet back, let him know I’m truly sorry for everything, and leave it at that.”

  Hannah lets out a sigh of relief. “Thank you. Don’t be mad at me. I just want what’s best for you.”

  “I know,” I say. “Come here.” I hold my arms out to her and we embrace. “You’re not Mindy, but you make a decent placeholder.”

  Hannah laughs. “Oh, shut up.”

  Mr. Felix just rawrs.

  On the way over to the club, Hannah and I talk very little. My mind is filled with what I’m going to say to Jake. The first night I met him, my mind was overrun with hormones and I couldn’t even focus on what he was saying. All I could see were those eyes that could command me to do anything. But now . . .

  We pull up to the club. Surprisingly, there’s a lot of cars for a Monday night. This is a nightclub, not a sports bar showing Monday Night Football.

  “Remember,” Hannah says as I get out, “keep it business.”

  “Right. All business,” I say as we hug briefly. “I’ll be back by ten. Jake said he’ll give me a ride home, but I’ll be home by eleven at the latest, okay?”

  “Okay,” Hannah says, giving me a look in the eyes. “Ten would be better.”

  “Okay, Mom,” I half tease, patting her on the cheek. “You know he said you could come too.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure he would like that,” Hannah teases, giving me a wiseass grin.

  The line isn’t out the door like it was Saturday night, but still, the place is fairly busy as I go inside. The music is good, more low-key than it was over the weekend. Thankfully, Jake is expecting me. I doubt I’d get in right now otherwise. “Hi,” I tell the doorman. “Mr. Stone is expecting me. Roxy Price?”

  The doorman, still one of the MIB crew, checks his tablet before nodding. “Just a moment, Miss Price.”

  He turns and talks quietly into his earpiece before nodding. “Is there a problem?”

  “Not at all,” the doorman says as another of the MIB come over. “John, here, will take you to see Mr. Stone.”

  “Right this way,” John, who looks like he should be in the Secret Service instead of working nightclub security, says with a slight bow of his head. As we make our way through the club, I see that my first impression was wrong. This place is nearly packed.

  I think the difference is the clientele. Over the weekend, most of the clubbers were younger, twenty- and thirty-somethings. This group is at least a decade older, and the music reflects it. I’m hearing some stuff that hasn’t been in heavy rotation since the turn of the millennium. Then again, Will Smith is pretty smooth on Switch.

  As John walks with me past the bar, I feel a moment of rising anxiety as I look around for the creepy bastard who tried to drug me, but I don’t see him. John notices and gives me a reassuring smile. “All clear tonight, Miss Price. Come, Mr. Stone is waiting for you upstairs.”

  I look up and see Jake leaning on the railing of the VIP section, giving me a little wave. I wave back, and John leads me up, giving me the same little nod before he peels off to watch the steps to the VIP level. I’m surprised when I see that Jake’s alone up here. We have the whole level to ourselves.

  “You’re looking dapper,” I comment as he comes over. He’s changed from the suit he wore to work into a slightly tighter fitting, brighter gray suit that just barely gleams in the club lights. “How many suits do you own, anyway?”

  “Enough,” he says easily, and as he steps closer, I’m just staggered again by his magnetism. He has this confident ease about him that isn’t cocky. It’s more like he’s saying Yes, I have the looks, but I’m more than that. “Come on, I have a booth for us.”

  He leads me over to a nice booth, all done in black velvet with a low ebony table in the middle. “Let me get you a drink,” he says, signaling the waitress. “A Little Mermaid,” he says, “and a Highlander.”

  I give him a raised eyebrow, and he chuckles. “You’ll like it, relax. You look amazing, by the way. Love what you did with your eyes. It totally changes your expression from work.”

  His eyes roam over my face, causing my skin to feel like I’ve got a low grade sunburn. I feel sexy, and when I do a switch on my legs, crossing my right over my left, his eyes watch every movement. I love the way he makes me feel. It’s like we never left off. “Are you saying I looked bad at work?” I ask playfully. “Less feminine?”

  Jake licks his lips and laughs. “Hardly. But you looked scared out of your mind. Not like you do now. You look at home.”

  I shrug, reaching into my purse. “Here’s your wallet. Uh, just to let you know, I robbed you blind.”

  He chuckles and takes it from my hand. “I doubt that.”

  Without even opening it, he takes the wallet and slides it into his jacket pocket. I stare at him for a moment, shocked. “You’re not going to count the m
oney?”

  “I trust you,” he says confidently. “You look more like an angel than a thief.”

  I blush, then I laugh. “Okay, just don’t get mad when you get the credit card bill for that trip to Hawaii I booked, complete with matching Louis Vuitton luggage.”

  Jake laughs again. “You’re not the type for LV luggage.”

  The waitress comes back with our drinks. His Highlander looks interesting, almost like root beer, of all things. “What the hell is that?”

  “Two ounces Japanese sake, two ounces of Scotch whisky, and the rest is Coke over crushed ice,” he says, lifting the clear beer mug. “Basically a Duncan Macleod, but we use real Highland scotch, so we renamed it.”

  I nod and take a sip of mine. It’s fruity, with bright highlights, and I can already tell I’m going to have to go easy on it. I’ve got work in the morning, and I’m not supposed to be going home with Jake. “Damn, this is good.”

  “Thank you. I had a hand in making it,” Jake says, sipping his mug.

  “Did you? And did you have a hand in the drink the first night too?” I ask, and Jake shakes his head.

  “No, wish I could say I did. The name alone is nice, though, don’t you think?”

  I laugh as I take another sip of my drink. “It certainly makes memories. And the club?”

  “Nathan and I had an architect help with the details, but we chose most of the layout. I wanted something different from the average club.”

  “It’s one of the nicest I’ve ever been in,” I say honestly. “Nothing like Trixie’s.”

  Jake takes a slow sip of his Highlander and sets it down, raising an eyebrow. “Trixie’s?”

  I nod. “The club I used to sing at.” And shake my ass like nobody’s business. “It was my favorite place back home.”

  “You’re a singer?” he says with some surprise. “You’re just full of little talents, aren’t you? What kind of music?”