The Choice
Page 56
“Think I’ll take a rain check.” I slipped my leg into its flesh-colored brace. It wasn’t too bulky but kept me from falling over.
“Don’t knock it, a good muff munch might be all you need to straighten yourself out.” Her tone was serious, but she twinkle in her eye was anything but.
We were good.
I stood with great effort, feeling naked in the pale leotard that hid my body, along with the gauzy, iridescent gown that floated around me. While I wasn’t fully exposed, the contours of my body were well-defined. I had butterfly wings, but I’d put them on just before the show, or I would be knocking precious trinkets from their perches every move I made.
I was ready-ish.
Brandy’s muscles visibly relaxed. “I know this isn’t what you wanted.” Absently, she stroked the gossamer gowns hanging on the rack near her, sympathy in her expression. “But it’s your reality now.”
“Yeah.” I gathered the wings into my arms, trying to swallow the knot that manifested in my throat and conceal the hurt begging to seep out of me.
“None of it was your fault. If his family hadn’t taken everything, you’d be somewhere else, maybe even back in the spotlight where you really belong.” Like the Brandy I knew well, she both encouraged and damned in the same breath.
“I’ll never be back there.” My life was hell, but going back, facing what happened, I could never do that.
At least here, at Jewel, I was safe. I had to remember, no matter how bad it got, I was safe here… with Brandy. Behind the mask.
“You had nothing to do with his death, Adara. Sorry… Mona.” She sighed and pressed her fingers to her temples, as if attempting to cement my stage name into her mind. “His family had no right to blame you. You were both victims. It’s just, you never have been one to fight back, you let people run all over you and now you’re here. I can’t do more for you than give you a place to work and live. The money’s good, right?” Her smile would have been infectious if I had any feelings left other than anger and grief. She’d always had that magnetic smile.
When we were teenagers, she’d say something like, “Adara, let’s go to the liquor store and get beer.” She’d hit me with that smile, and the next thing I knew, I’d be sitting on the ground behind the liquor store sipping from a tall bottle wrapped in a brown bag.
She wore that same smile when we were sitting in the police station, waiting for our foster father to pick us up after we were caught underage drinking at a party.
“Party… was… da… bomb!” she’d cheered in the back seat of our foster father’s SUV, and even he fell under her spell, which propelled us into uncontrollable teenage giggles.
There wasn’t much giggling going on these days, but her smile still did the trick. I smiled back, and even as the now unfamiliar muscles went to work in my face, it was just easier to give in.
“The money’s fine.” I patted my hair like I thought I was a diva, tilting my hip in an outward thrust. “I’m in it for the fame anyway. Who doesn’t want to be a butterfly?”
We both laughed as I turned and checked my mask again in the mirror. I never took it off. I had a drawerful of different ones, in many colors, but for Jewel, I preferred black. Made in Europe, the lace on the mask was exquisitely beautiful, contoured to cover the ugliness underneath. My masks were the few things I possessed that really belonged to me.
Because so very little belonged to me anymore. The smile faded as the memory assaulted me, refusing to leave me for long.
After the funeral, Nate’s family sued for our estate since we weren’t married and hadn’t been together long enough for common law. Somehow, they’d won. They got everything, our house, our money, our Grammy. That gilded gramophone and this scar were all I had left.
I could’ve fought them to retain what I needed to finish the surgeries necessary to minimize the scar, but I didn’t have any fight left in me. Not that there was that much money left. Nate had managed our money, and I’d been too in love at the time to realize I shouldn’t have trusted him so much. The gash on my face was the only thing I possessed now that connected me to the man I thought I’d grow old with.
I faced Brandy. “Okay, I’m ready.” I wasn’t really. Who was ever ready to perform for a bunch of lust-infused billionaires? In the two months I’d been doing it, I’d been sick with nerves every time.
“Well, girl, you look stunning, and you’re only fractionally less famous than Gina’s golden vagina.” In a casual motion, she turned for the door, throwing back over her shoulder as if it were an afterthought, “You should give Jack Marshall’s offer some consideration. All you’d have to do is let him have you for one night.” Her smile bedazzled the words, almost making them seem like the deal Jack was offering would be a good thing for me.
Brandy could convince a person to buy shit in a ziplock baggy if she sold it with that smile, but she would never… ever… sell me that.
The blood in my veins heated up. “There’s one thing that keeps me from jumping from the roof, Brandy. I’ve never sold my body for sex.” How dare she insinuate that I should even remotely consider Jack’s vile proposal.
She lifted a shoulder and tucked a strand of long blonde hair behind her ear. “He’s into straight-up vanilla, all you’d have to do is lay back and enjoy the ride.”
“Fuck you.” I wished I had the energy to throw something at her.
She had the balls to wink at me. “Yes. All he wants is to fuck you, just once. Don’t throw this away so fast. It’s a chance to earn back some of the money Nate’s family stole from you. Consider it, that’s all I ask.” She glanced at her watch and snapped her fingers. “Okay, time’s up, get your ass out there.”
Brandy shuffled behind me as she shooed me out of my dressing room. I really wanted to hate her, but I hated myself more. Brandy was just being Brandy. She’d never changed, never had to.
I took a deep breath, quieted my mind. Just go out there and do what you do best, Adara.
Shit… Mona.
CHAPTER TWO
Roman
One of my exs once suggested that life didn’t fit into my life unless it involved a business meeting.
The downside to owning a business based on the internet was that it never shut down. There was zero off time in the internet trading world. Someone was always awake somewhere, so at any given time an internet entrepreneur who was sleeping or out on a date was missing an opportunity.
Because of my jampacked schedule, I was notoriously late and gunned my Mercedes S65 Cabriolet through the light that was about to turn red.
That day, business involving my international trading company was taking place in the form of eighteen holes of golf with the head of the PGA. My company was working on a deal with the Professional Golfer’s Association to sponsor next year’s tournament, and I’d signed my brother-in-law slash business associate and myself up for a round of golf as a warmer.
While I was always a little on the late side, my brother-in-law, Peter, was worse. Pulling up outside his building, I laid on the horn and thrummed my fingers on the steering wheel. Two honks later, he finally opened the passenger door.
“Pete,” I scoffed as he slid into the polished leather seat. “What part of one o’clock don’t you understand?”
“Stand down, man, it’s one-ish. Close enough in normal people world.” Peter dove for the radio the minute he clicked his seatbelt, and his fingers danced over the radio controls. “I can’t do zombie death marches today.”
“Classical music is relaxing.” I seized his hand, holding him back from slaying Bach for Beyoncé.
He slumped into an overexaggerated pose, his gaze shifting to the roof. “Why do I hang out with you again?”
“I’m your boss,” I reminded him with a note of deep satisfaction.
Three years ago, when my twin sister, Liliana, introduced me to Peter, I was in utter shock. He was the same age as me, thirty-two years old, and he spoke and acted like a perpetual teenager. I couldn’t have
approved of him less. However, he was the kind of guy who grew on you. He had a magnetic charm. Liliana was madly in love with him and she, being my twin, was my world. She’d always been a bit juvenile in her behavior, so it was a “match made in heaven” as they say.
Eventually, I saw what Liliana admired about Peter after spending more time than I cared to with him. He was fun.
I didn’t really do fun. I wasn’t a fun guy.
But Pete brought fun to the table, and sometimes I took a little fun away with me. As it also turned out, he was one of the most successful eco-adventure entrepreneurs in the business. I’d amicably bought his company and have made him millions, many times over.
I liked the fierce, no-nonsense reputation I’d built, but I was still a nerd in some instances. Peter raised my coolness quotient by more than I cared to admit.
“So, explain to me again why you aren’t taking the mini excursion to Banff this week? I got the wifi all sorted, you can work on the road.” Peter’s tone told me he was expecting me to be overjoyed.
I rolled my eyes, checked the time, and pulled out into traffic. “What about accessible wifi makes you think I’d consider it? How is staying in a hotel room in the middle of the wilderness even remotely fun by anyone’s definition?” Even though I would love to breathe in the crisp Canadian air, I considered it my job as his brother-in-law to mock his enthusiasm for all things outdoors.
“Dude, it’s everything. Unspoiled nature, fucking elk and bison.” His face lit up with excitement.
I had to interrupt him before he could launch into an exhaustive list of benefits of driving a large vehicle when bringing down large game. “As much as I’d love to go, which I hope you know is just me saying something to be polite, I have to take a Korean client to Jewel. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t want to fuck any elk or bison.”
It felt good to make a pretty decent joke out of an uncomfortable confession. My cool meter was rising.
Peter’s mouth dropped open, and he gripped the dash. “You’re ditching me for a sex club?”
“A client. I’m ditching you for a client.” This clarification needed to be made — I didn’t ever partake of the goods at Jewel.
“Dude…”
“Mr. Dickson.” I resorted to his last name when he really aggravated me. Because, god, he really was a dick. “If you call me ‘dude’ again…” Heat built under my collar, and I shifted in the driver’s seat, never wanting to break my impeccable facade of authority and command. Peter could test every one of my limits.
“Don’t ‘Dickson’ me around.” Pete barked out a laugh. “You’re not just taking a client, are you? You’re going to have a good time with a woman, right?” When I didn’t answer, he did a mock headbutt. “You’re an idiot.”
I flashed him an intense glare.
He completely ignored my I’m getting angry, don’t fuck with me vibe. “A well-advised person would sample the goods. It’s a sex club, come on.” He smiled devilishly with full disregard of my need for decorum.
“Among other things, there’s a nice restaurant. The sushi’s great.” So’s the anonymity. I sped onto the interstate, feeling a jarring sense of discomfort.
“Scantily dressed other things. No one goes there for the food.”
“They have an excellent chef. Besides, I usually stay in the lounge and let my clients accompany each other into the offer room — the theater. Wait.” I held up a hand between us. “I’m not having this discussion with you.” Peter was baiting me, trying to get me to admit to paying for sex. An indescribable fire spread across my chest at the thought.
“The offer room.” Peter clicked his tongue. “You think I’m stupid, but I know what’s up. Does Liliana know you buy sex? You can’t be that hard up. Women are always throwing themselves at you, and pretty shamelessly I might add. You don’t have to pay for love, bro. Just say yes to any of the women who are like… everywhere.”
Was he actually trying to school me in the art of love? This was comedy.
In the beginning of their courtship, to capture the attention of my goodhearted sister, he took her rock climbing and offered her Twinkies at the summit of the mountain. Somehow that spelled love to both of them. They’re always on some half-baked adventure of his making. He’s lucky, and she’s crazy, or there’s no way he could’ve weaseled his way into one of the richest families in Montana.
“For god’s sake, I don’t buy sex. I’ve never contracted with any of the women. I take my clients. I have a membership to the most exclusive gentleman’s club in the world, why not use it to my business benefit?” I pressed my foot to the gas pedal and let the rev of the engine drive away the uncomfortable feelings the conversation had aroused in me.
“So, if I’m hearing you correctly, you have an exclusive, and I’m assuming uber expensive — like tres expensif — membership to a club you just visit. For what, the sushi? That’s like reading Playboy for the articles, it doesn’t happen.” He shook his head in disbelief, as if the very thought of a man being uncomfortable with casual sex was an impossibility.
It was his confidence I hated and admired most about Peter. He was a man who had no fear or trepidation, just went balls in every time.
“I don’t read Playboy.” Turning into the lot adjacent to the golf course, I roared into the first open parking spot and yanked back the parking break, my agitation getting the better of me.
“It’s a waste of money, bro,” Peter deduced with his sage surfer’s wisdom.
“As we are barely on time and the head of the PGA is most likely waiting, I can’t go into depth about this. I have a membership because sex sells.” I lowered my voice as I opened the door. “The brand of sexual exchange Jewel has on offer is enough to close a deal on just about anything.”
“You mean, like for bulk bra and underwear vendors?” His snide affront to my business was more than I could overlook.
“No!” I stepped out of the car to give myself a second to regain control. He was such a child. “The exclusive trade deals with bulk suppliers that allow my website to sell… anything at an incredibly low price, lower than anywhere else in the world. People want deals, crave them. Crave dot com has everything at an incredible bargain. However, even bargains have a price.” I popped open the back and threw his golf bag at him, ready to literally iron out my angst on the course.
He shrugged, clearly unconvinced. “Alright, Mr. Wellington, fuck or don’t fuck who you will, but you need to get that dick out and get it some fresh air once in a while. A slice of pussy pie would totally solve your agromaniac issues.” He hauled his golf bag onto his shoulder with his usual overexuberance, and we headed for the golf course.
“Agromaniac isn’t a word,” I countered, biting my lip to stop myself from saying more.
He had a point. I did need a woman in my life, but the truth was, I made too much money to trust them. As soon as they learned how many zeros were in a billion, they suddenly became ravenous opportunists. I’d had enough heartbreak, learned the hard way how untrustworthy most women were. At the slightest hint that my generosity might be drying up, their interest and “love” waned. I didn’t need that in my life.
Our business over eighteen holes went well. We scored the account for Crave. Despite being cocky, Peter really could charm anyone into anything. I possessed the numbers knowledge and business savvy to tip the scales, and together we landed the account.
I made a quick apology to Peter for being an asshole, and he had the audacity not notice that I wasn’t being as unpleasant as usual. I truly loved and hated the man.
Upon returning to the office, energized and no longer affronted, I checked in with Adam, my assistant, one last time before heading out for the evening. “I’m waiting for Pascal Richardson to call from England tonight, so phone me when he calls, it’s very important.”
Adam searched his files for the account, which was annoying as he should have known all of our potential clients and always have their information readily available.
“Of course, Mr. Wellington.” Adam stared at his computer screen, having found Richardson’s profile.
I liked precision and efficiency but knew my interactions with people were viewed as cold at times. Adam’s stiff and robotlike response was a great indication that my people skills were not one of my greatest assets.
“I’ll be at Jewel, so be discreet,” I added with a note of warning.
“Absolutely, Mr. Wellington. I’ll call you as soon as I hear from him.”
Again, I was running late, so I grabbed my jacket and rushed out to meet Duk Soo at Jewel. He was one of my biggest clients, and I’d received a text alerting me that he’d just landed and was en route to the club. He loved Jewel and was like a kid in a candy store. It was embarrassing at times. As a matter of fact, it was the first time I would make it for the opening act, thanks to his exuberance.
When I arrived just behind the driver I’d hired to pick up my client, it was pouring rain. Still, Mr. Soo greeted me with an excited bow, obviously looking forward to the evening ahead. The valet produced two umbrellas with the Jewel logo and shepherded us inside.
We were met by a woman wearing a gown sheer enough to glimpse her nipples underneath. She led us to the greeting room, handing us warm, wet towels for our faces that smelled of sandalwood.
Soft, soothing music funneled in that was laced with heavy bass. Despite my determination to remain unaffected by the atmosphere, my heart thumped faster. Jewel had truly mastered all elements of seduction.
After toweling off the rain, we were directed to a table in the lounge. A cocktail waitress dressed in a black silk kimono that barely covered the peak of her ass cheeks came to our table to take our drink order.
“Mr. Soo.” She bowed her head graciously. “It’s always a pleasure to see you.” She gently stroked his shoulder and let her fingers linger softly on his arm.