Beyond the Velvet Rope

by Tiffany Ashley

  Adam’s brows perked. “Why, Marina?”

  “Because I want to tell him I love him,” she said with a wicked grin.

  Adam laughed. “You and every other female here.” He turned to Thandie. “Get used to that. The women love Elliot. He has a certain effect on them.”

  She nodded. “I’ve been warned.”

  Adam laughed. “You think I’m joking, but I’m offering you sound advice.”

  “That’s sweet, Adam, but I can take care of myself.”

  “Suit yourself,” he said with a shrug. He turned to look up a wide stairway that ended at a closed door. There was a huge beast of a man guarding the entrance. “That’s Elliot’s office through there,” Adam confirmed. “It looks like he’s busy right now. How about I give you a tour of the VIP area?”

  She nodded.

  “Please follow me.” Adam pointed the way as he led her toward another staircase. “VIP is up this way. I would recommend you lead your guests along the south wall. Crossing the dance floor to get to the stairs is a nightmare, and going by the bar is a deathtrap. I’ll need to introduce you to Bruno. He checks VIP guests in. He’s very thorough. If you aren’t VIP, you don’t get past him. Security will give you bands for all your guests when you come in. That way, your party can come and go through the different areas as they please.”

  He went up the stairs, pointing out certain areas of the club that could only be seen from his vantage point. She was amazed by the beautiful details of the building. The higher they climbed, the more she was able to discover. Without question the most awe-inspiring part were the hanging gardens that appeared to float above the dance floor. She imagined the view was more spectacular when the theater lights illuminated their perfection.

  Adam paused to let her admire the view. “It’s spectacular, isn’t it?”

  “Breathtaking,” she agreed.

  “It was Elliot’s idea. He had this vision to make the club resemble the Hanging Gardens of Babylon. He flew in a historian and a landscape architect to recreate it. We were all skeptical at first, but the results speak for themselves.” He leaned forward and wiggled his eyebrows mischievously. “And they retract. See those cords?” He pointed to one of the gardens. Thandie could just make out thin black cords attached to the planter’s metal railing. “The cords go all the way up to the ceiling,” he explained. “That’s how the gardens are housed and maintained. We have a gardener who comes in daily. Because they’re delicate, we don’t display the gardens often. But when we do, this place is magical.”

  Keeping them on task, Adam nudged her to continue moving. At the top of the steps was yet another door. Adam pushed the large door that opened into the VIP room. It was a three-level, glass-enclosed “club within a club.” The wall facing the main arena was made entirely of glass, giving everyone below a great “envy” view.

  Adam stood alongside Thandie. “I’ve managed VIP rooms in Miami and LA,” he confessed. “This is by far the coolest lounge I’ve ever been in. It’s six-thousand-square-feet. Seats up to two hundred, holds up to five hundred standing. There are three full bars, one on each level. Five bartenders and eight servers. Private bathrooms are on the left of the bar on all levels. A DJ is always stationed on the main floor; however, if we have a guest DJ performing we pipe in the music. Pretty cool, huh?”

  Thandie was speechless. As Adam walked her through the rooms, she was impressed by the display of sheer luxury.

  “If you think this is nice, wait until you see the Tower,” he said.

  “The what?”

  “Just a minute.” He walked over to a hidden elevator and waved his hand over the panel. “Only the staff is allowed to use the elevator. During working hours, we ask everyone to refrain from using it. However, you and your guests are welcome to use it during off hours. It leads up to the Tower. You can take the stairs if you like. It’s more scenic, but if you prefer a straight shot, the elevator is always here. The code to go to the Tower is one-two-two-one.”

  He punched in the code, and they rode up to the Tower. When the doors opened, she couldn’t suppress her gasp. It was a beautiful oasis of hanging gardens, private balconies, open fountains and satin pillows. Adam seemed happy she was impressed with the room.

  “I knew you would love it,” he boasted. “We call it the Tower of Babel. This room is reserved for the ultimate VIP guests. There is a private entrance that leads up from the parking garage. This is the pinnacle in intimacy and privacy. It seats up to thirty, standing room for up to fifty. There are six servers and a private restroom. As you can imagine, this room is in high demand. This is Elliot’s best idea yet. It’s been a huge hit since we reopened from the renovation. We’ve had several parties up here already. It’s a great revenue-turner. Even on slow nights, the Tower brings in serious cash. We’ve already got a waiting list.”

  She felt his gaze on her as she walked about the room running her fingers along the smooth furnishings.

  “It’s ten times more impressive at night, lit primarily by candlelight. Sexy stuff.”

  She nodded her agreement. “This is amazing, Adam.”

  “It is.” He clapped his hands. “Bruno should be here by now. Let’s go downstairs and get you two acquainted. If we’re lucky, Elliot will be free to speak with you soon.”

  The office door belonging to the mysterious Elliot Richards was still closed when they returned to the main floor; however, Bruno was available. He didn’t have much to say, only grunts and occasional nods. Adam helped by briefly explaining Bruno’s role and indexing a long list of responsibilities that fell under his authority.

  Almost as soon as Adam and Bruno finished their overview, Thandie was introduced to Markie Duran, the club’s general manager. He was pleasant enough and eager to bring her up to speed on Babylon’s network of rules and securities. There was so much to take in, Thandie doubted she absorbed half of it. She was coming to realize Club Babylon was not simply a nightclub—it was a money-making machine. It was unlike anything she’d ever seen before.

  “I should have brought a notepad to take notes,” Thandie commented once Markie finished his presentation.

  “Don’t worry,” Markie said with a laugh. “In a few short nights, you’ll know this place like the back of your hand.”

  Thandie hoped he was right about that. The sheer size of the club was intimidating.

  “It’s too bad you weren’t in town a week earlier,” Adam added. “You missed the birthday bash.” He winked at Markie, and both men gave a wicked laugh.

  “Whose birthday?” Thandie’s question faded when the door leading to Elliot’s office suddenly opened. The reaction was immediate. The muscular man guarding the door stepped aside to allow several men to exit the office and descend the staircase. Thandie craned her neck, trying to get a good look at each man. “Which one is Elliot?”

  “None,” Adam confirmed with a quick glance. “It looks like Elliot’s free. We better grab him while we can.”

  Taking hold of Thandie’s elbow, he guided her up the stairs, pausing only long enough to quickly introduce her to the burly black man who stood guard outside the office door. She learned his name was Vincent Michelle, but preferred to be called Michelle.

  Thandie crossed the threshold and stepped into a spacious, sleekly decorated office. The walls facing the arena were made entirely of one-way glass, providing an uninhibited view of the club without being seen. Oddly shaped lamps lit the room, which softened the modern furniture and created an intimate atmosphere.

  Thandie’s gaze continued to sweep over the room, and then she faltered. There he was. The man she’d flown over a thousand miles to meet—Elliot Richards. He was leaning casually against the edge of a large glass desk, staring at her. It was as if he’d been patiently waiting her for the entire time, and not the other way around.

  The instant her eyes met his, Thandie froze in place. She watched, spellbound, as the sinfully handsome man pulled himself up to his full height and approached them. He was tall,
tanned and mouth-watering. A one-of-a-kind Ferrari. He was perfection in motion. With every step he took, Thandie became more convinced of one thing: Elliot Richards had been well worth the wait.

  He had satin black hair, captivating silver eyes, a strong chin and kissable lips. He was dressed in a crisp white button-up shirt and black slacks that could only be tailor-made to fit. His shirt pulled tightly across a muscular chest, his golden skin a stark contrast against the crisp fabric. He had a cool air that drew her to him, with very little effort on his part. Now, she understood why Adam had warned her.

  “Hello.” He gave her a slight grin, one that was all business and too damned sexy to be permissible. “I’m Elliot Richards. You must be Thandie Shaw.” He held out his hand. “Finally, we meet.”

  Thandie struggled not to gawk at him as she shook his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Richards.”

  He blessed her with a dazzling smile. “Believe me, Ms. Shaw, the pleasure is all mine. You must forgive my tardiness. My meeting ran long; however, my delay doesn’t in any way reflect your importance. I’m eager to see what you can do for us.” He waved his hand toward the couches. “Please, have a seat.”

  Thandie walked toward a long leather couch, feeling Elliot’s gaze on her the entire time. He waited for to take her seat, before sitting down himself. Adam took the opportunity to excuse himself, mumbling he had some things to see to.

  Elliot waited until Adam left before turning to her. “I trust the tour you received was sufficient.”

  “Yes, very much so.” She said with a guarded, yet nervous smile. “You have an amazing place.”

  “Thank you. It was quite an investment, but I’m happy with it.”

  Thandie had to force herself to concentrate on the conversation. Elliot Richards was gorgeous, alarmingly so. It was hard to believe this charming and very handsome man was the same person who’d hung up on her weeks before. When his lips began to move, Thandie became transfixed.

  “I’m sure Warren has already spoken to you, but please allow me to reiterate.” He checked his watch before continuing. “I currently own three night clubs. Lush, Red Door and Club Babylon. Lush is a fetish club, with very select membership. Red Door is a nightclub marketed toward the lesbian persuasion. It’s the smallest of my businesses, but it holds a consistent clientele. Then, there is Club Babylon. It’s my largest undertaking. The club has done very well on the strip, but we recently decided to update the look to grow our service capabilities. We reopened our doors last month. The changes have been received quite well, particularly the amenities marketed toward our members. However, we want to see major returns in a relatively short time. I expect to see a return on my investment in three months’ time.”

  “Three months sets a vigorous schedule,” Thandie warned.

  Elliot nodded. “Yes, it does, but I’m confident we’ll hit our mark on time. With your help, of course.” He smiled. “Warren sang praises of your abilities. He was quite vocal that you are the person we need.”

  She blushed slightly. “Warren is very kind.”

  “If that were all it was, you wouldn’t be here.” He looked at her seriously. “Please allow me to be frank.”

  “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  “I don’t normally employ women, and for good reason.”

  “May I inquire why?”

  His gaze was level. “In my experience, women become...unfocused.”

  She immediately understood. He was the reason for his previous female employees losing their focus. How could they not? He was a walking, talking, breathing distraction.

  “In all honesty, Ms. Shaw, I’m not entirely sold on the idea of you being here. Club Babylon is quite the exception to the typical club expirence. This is not a place for emotional beings and and from past experiences, women often get attached to the wrong thing. Which is why working with an all-male staff is not only beneficial but necessary in my line of business.”

  She stared at Elliot. His sharp profile and flawless skin made it very clear what those “wrong attachments” might be. Fixing him with a hard stare, she said, “May I ask you a question?”

  “Please.”

  “What the hell am I doing here?” She could tell her frankness momentarily shocked him. “As you can see, I’m not a man.”

  Elliot’s silver gaze roved over her body slowly and intentionally. “That is a fact I have been unable to ignore.” His stare was heated when he added, “And neither will the rest of my staff.”

  “I assure you I’m a professional. As long as your staff operates on the same level, then we should have no problems.” She smiled thinly. “You’ve reviewed my portfolio; you know what I’m capable of. So if there is an issue with my gender, again I ask, what the hell am I doing here?”

  “You’re here because Warren insisted on it,” he said simply.

  He flashed her a devilish grin that made her mind conjure up every dirty thought imaginable. He really was too handsome for his own good. Her gaze unwillingly floated over his body, and there was no doubt in her mind the man was created for mind-numbing, can’t-walk-in-the-morning sex.

  “Although I appreciate Warren’s confidence in me,” she began, licking her lips in a struggle to tear her eyes away from his body, “I assure you I come highly recommended. Feel free to check my references.”

  “I have.”

  “And?” she prodded when he did not elaborate.

  His eyes sparkled. “As you said, you come highly recommended. You wouldn’t be here otherwise.” He crossed his legs in one fluid motion. Somehow, he managed to make the action appear very masculine. “I thought it only fair for you to know where I stand.”

  She felt as if he were studying her unemotionally, as if he were shopping for a new car, mentally accessing value versus usage and lastly, appeal.

  “I appreciate your candor,” she said, somewhat irritated.

  “I promise you I have an abundance to give.” He disarmed her by giving a boyish grin. “Babylon is my woman. I love her to obsession. Her success is my own.”

  “I understand.”

  “So I haven’t frightened you off yet?”

  “Not even close.”

  He grinned at her. “I like that you’re not afraid of me.”

  This time, she laughed. “I’m from New York. Nothing frightens me.”

  “We shall see about that.”

  His words were delivered so softly, Thandie did not immediately catch their meaning. Did he intend to frighten her out of the job? She considered asking him this very question, but at the last minute stopped herself. Instead she asked, “Whom will I be working with?”

  “Myself,” he said. “Very closely.” His eyes openly assessed her again, but this time was a little different from the first. This review was sexual. Whether he was impressed or not, she could not tell. “As well as my managing staff,” he added. “You’ll meet them tonight before we open. We get together for an action-meeting during the first hour of business. You should make yourself available. We go over the themes for the next night, as well as address any issues. Use tonight to acquaint yourself with the ins and outs of the club during showtime. It’s easy to get confused when the lights are down.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  “I know you will be.”

  “Can you give me an idea of what you expect from me?”

  Elliot inclined his dark head gracefully. “I want you to host a series of events here at the club, leading up to our grand re-opening.”

  “Aren’t you open now?”

  “This is a ‘soft’ opening. It allows us to work out the kinks and formulate our operations. A dress rehearsal, if you will. We’re showing only half our potential.”

  “Oh,” was all she could think to say. She felt a little embarrassed, because she should have known the answer to her question. She’d seen a soft opening before, but certainly not to this extent. “When will I learn specifics regarding the project? Goals, budget, etcetera?”
r />   “Over dinner.”

  Thandie frowned. “I’m sorry?”

  “Do you have plans tomorrow evening?”

  She heard herself answering before thinking. “No.”

  “Good. I’d like you to have dinner with me at Peppers at eight o’clock. The attire is formal. I suggest you wear a dress. My assistant Romero can give you directions.”

  “Why?” she blurted out, immediately suspicious of his intentions. “Why are we meeting there and not here, in your office?”

  Elliot folded his hands in his lap. Thandie could tell he was not use to being questioned. Although his face remained a mask of cool indifference, his silver eyes flashed with what looked like annoyance. In spite of this, his voice was even-tempered when he spoke. “We are meeting at Peppers because I enjoy the food and I have a reserved table there. The timing of our meeting is because of my schedule. My day is filled with meetings. The only block I have available for you is while I’m dining.” He arched a dark brow. “Is this going to be a problem?”

  Feeling embarrassed for having jumped to the wrong conclusion, Thandie immediately shook her head. Mercifully, there was a heavy tap on the office door seconds before it opened. The large, beefy head of Michelle appeared.

  “Elliot, Warren is here to see you.”

  “Thanks. Let him in.” He stood, brushing his hands across his perfectly pressed pants. “Any last questions, Ms. Shaw?”

  “No,” she said quickly, avoiding eye contact.

  “Before you leave, I should mention the Tower of Babel is off-limits during business hours. Take my word for it and just don’t venture up there.”

  The office door opened wider, and Warren Radcliffe entered the room. In his sixties, he was a man who’d aged well. His pure white hair was worn long enough to brush the collar of his shirt. It was stylishly cut, and professionally highlighted. His mustache and beard were trimmed low, and well groomed. Adorned in a colorful Hawaiian shirt and khaki shorts, he looked as if he didn’t have a care in the world. If Elliot were an exotic car, Warren was more like a lovable childhood toy, worn in presentation but holding all the jubilance of its younger days. In spite of his features, weathered from years of hard partying, his boyish nature could not be ignored. He was a great reminder that life never got boring because one grew older.