Club Saturday: Contemporary Menage Romance (Sarasota Sin Series Book 2)

by Talyn Scott

  She picked up her pace, her heels clicking across the vestibule’s marble as her phone buzzed. “Matt?” she answered. “Where are you? I’m heading to the front door.” He was already outside, waiting. She couldn’t guess the logistics of that but maybe the elevator he took opened to the front of the club. “Yeah, hail the cab.” Vania saw a break in the crowd and wriggled through. “I’m coming out.”

  Right before her hand reached out and smacked the door lever. Another hand, a very male hand, gripped hers, stalling her movement. “Back off,” she snapped while spinning around. “I’m not —"

  “What’s wrong?” Evan looked down at her, his black hair gleaming beneath the lights. “You look upset.” His eyes moved over her face, narrowing. “And flushed.”

  “Mr. Easton, I —"

  “We’re not in the damn office.” His hands landed on her shoulders, giving them a gentle squeeze. “Say Evan.”

  “Evan,” she whispered, sensing flashes starting to go off in her peripheral vision. “Nothing’s wrong, but I need to go.”

  “Where’s your fiancé?”

  “He’s out front, waiting with a cab.” She winced when a closer flash caused her vision to spot. “What the…”

  “Fuck!”

  “What’s happening?”

  “They’re not the paparazzi but the outcome’s the same once they post their pics on the internet,” he muttered through a clenched-teeth smile. “Keep smiling and step from the door.”

  “Who’s at the club?” More flashes went off, and she turned her face to the side. “Did someone famous show up?”

  “You could say that.” He muscled her through the crowd, keeping his smile, looking relaxed for the world to see, while leading her past the same elevator she’d left moments ago.

  Vania held her hand over her eyes, blocking the flashes going off in her direction. Then her stupidity dawned on her. “Oh, they’re taking pictures of you.”

  “Sorry to say you may be on the internet tomorrow,” he whispered against her ear.

  “No!”

  “Continue smiling.” He stopped and swiped a card key next to a brushed steel door.

  “Why do you have a master key?”

  Evan ushered her through the door. “It’s public knowledge that I own this club, Vania. The controlling part of it anyway, but the rest of Club Saturday’s stock is held by The Easton Company.”

  He owned this club? Would Evan find out she’d been in one of those elevators? Vania took a deep breath, and then another, trying to calm down as she phoned Matt and explained what happened. When she ended the call, Vania could sense Evan’s dark eyes on her, watchful and curious.

  “He’s meeting you in the parking garage?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Are you okay, Vania?”

  “I’m doing fine for my first time running from picture-snapping groupies.” She forced a casual shrug. Even though the startling flashes had stopped since the groupies were kept from employee areas, orange orbs still winked in her vision.

  “Sorry about that.”

  “To think,” she teased, “all this attention could be mine if I were a billionaire playboy.”

  “Or my woman.”

  “What?”

  “Nothing… After this, you still find my club stunning?”

  “Maybe.” She smiled up at him. “Did you pick out the jellyfish lights?”

  “No, I fought against those damn lights but my designer thought they would fascinate the tourists.” He chuckled. “So you find them fascinating.”

  “Let’s put it this way, they’re something to look at.” She tilted her head forward and rubbed the back of her neck. “My cat would find them fascinating, though.”

  “I’m not sure that’s a compliment. Cats find balls of tinfoil fascinating.”

  “Oscar is bored with tinfoil, but he watches DVDs of flying birds with rapt interest.”

  “DVDs for cats?”

  She laughed at his expression. “You must not have any pets or you’d know.”

  “I have no time for them. Jetting around the globe is a constant in my life,” he said, pressing his hand to her lower back. “Watch your step here.”

  She sensed concrete beneath her feet and realized they were in the parking garage. Vania blinked a few times, encountering blessed dimness. “I can almost see again.” She fought against rubbing her eyes so she wouldn’t smear her mascara.

  “And there’s your cab,” he said, pointing to the right.

  She bid him goodnight and headed towards the cab. But something tugged at Vania and she looked over her shoulder. Evan stood there, openly watching her. Anyone would assume he was being cautious, ensuring she got in the cab safely, but something told Vania that Evan was waiting for her to turn back around and walk straight into his arms.

  Part of her wanted to.

  Chapter 3

  Three Months Later

  “I still can’t believe I made it to the top floor,” Vania said as she stepped through the lobby of The Easton Hotel. Each day she pinched herself, but it wasn’t a dream.

  “Stayed for three months,” Cora whispered, “which is a feat in itself, considering we have to work side by side with the Easton men. They are —"

  “Not human.” Vania held her breath as they passed the coffee shop. The last thing she needed to add to her jiggling ass was a chocolate croissant and a double mocha latte. She’d fallen in that trap during the first three weeks of her promotion and still held the extra fifteen pounds to prove it. A week from now, she would be staring down the business end of her thirty-fifth birthday. Instead of losing weight as she’d planned, Vania had gained instead.

  Cora glanced back. “Speaking of inhuman, there’s a blonde god behind you, staring at your ass. He has sexually diabolical stuff on his mind. I can tell.”

  Vania fought not to look. “Then he’s the odd man out by liking it. My ass is in disproportion when compared to the rest of my body.”

  “Men drool over it wherever we go,” Cora argued. “You would feel highly complimented, if you turned around and looked at the blonde god still staring at you.”

  Vania adjusted her navy blue pencil skirt. “I’m not looking so drop it.” A whiff of cinnamon sneaked in her nose; she groaned and walked faster, closing the distance to the elevators.

  Cora hit the elevator’s call button. “You’re going frigid, my friend.”

  “Because I won’t gawk at a complete stranger?”

  “It’s more than that and you know it.”

  “Drop it, Cora.”

  “Your luscious Matt’s not putting out.”

  Vania couldn’t begin to have this conversation. Even her stomach protested with an angry wail. “I’m starving.”

  Cora studied Vania for a long moment, finally deciding to drop the Matt issue. “Instead of working through your lunch break, you should have joined the rest of us.” She rubbed her stomach. “I had tacos de asador.”

  “Too bad you didn’t bring me any.”

  “Yeah, I could eat another plate right now.”

  “Your usual onions with grilled alligator meat?” Vania shoved her hand in her purse and searched for some nuts, a granola bar, or even breath mints, anything to stop her stomach from rumbling.

  A ping sounded. A few people stepped from the elevator, leaving it empty for Vania and Cora to enter. Thank God, Vania thought; she hated being squashed.

  “Yeah, I had the alligator.” Cora slid a card key in a slot adjacent to the interior panel, a security precaution to deter unwanted visitors — or worse — from the top floor. “How’d you know?”

  “Brush your teeth before you —"

  “Ladies, please, hold the elevator.”

  “Great,” Vania whispered, “here they come.”

  Cora nodded and punched the doors-open button, keeping her finger on it until Julian, Evan, and Drake Easton stepped inside. All past six feet with broad frames to boot, the Eastons took up all available space, every breath of air. O
r maybe Vania was holding hers.

  She exhaled slowly, hoping no one noticed. Then when she inhaled again, she nearly groaned at their combined scents. Testosterone overload, her body screamed. And as weird as the inner admission felt, Vania could pick out Drake’s smell above all.

  Her eyes flicked to him, and he caught her gaze, lifting his chin in acknowledgement. She shifted to the side to give Cora some room, only to land against Evan’s hard body. She muttered a sorry and adjusted her stance.

  Evan leaned to tell Vania something, seemingly private, his dark eyes gleaming with his usual naughtiness.

  “How’s your workday so far, ladies?” Julian interrupted, glaring for a second at Evan before giving Cora and Vania a warm smile. Julian was the only blonde in the bunch, his green eyes as close to emerald as anything natural Vania had seen.

  “Well, thanks,” Vania replied as Evan straightened without a word.

  Cora said nothing.

  Julian eyes flicked between Vania and Cora. “No need to stop your conversation because we joined you.”

  Vania glanced at Cora, who apparently turned catatonic in Julian’s presence, which was interesting, since Cora was known not to back down from anything or anyone. So Vania cleared her throat and tried for casual. “We were discussing tacos.”

  Drake chuckled. “Tacos? I can’t remember when I’ve last eaten one.”

  Evan hitched against the wall, and his eyes stroked her legs. The heat of his stare grew uncomfortable, and Vania started fidgeting. Evan’s dark eyes kept traveling upward until they stopped on her face. “We ate tacos in Mexico a few months ago, Drake,” he said, keeping his eyes locked with hers. “Don’t you remember when we were scouting out Tulum for our latest golf resort?”

  “It’s you who doesn’t remember.” Drake checked his watch, the strong line of his jaw tightening with irritation. “I wasn’t even on that trip. Got stuck in Dubai.”

  “I missed that trip to Dubai,” Cora joined the conversation at last.

  Vania listened to Drake and Cora chat. His voice was rough and masculine, which matched the wild flare of his gaze. She closed her eyes for a second as his cadence washed over her, awakening lonely places inside her soul.

  Sensing a tingling across her skin, an empty ache between her thighs, Vania stopped her feet right before they started spreading.

  Damn, she wanted Drake Easton, wanted him every day, every night — with no break between the want…

  Vania opened her eyes with a jolt.

  Had she moaned aloud?

  Thankfully, she didn’t notice a lull in the conversation, or any strange looks given her way.

  Vania’s eyes moved back to Drake. What wouldn’t she give to nibble his dark whiskers, right along the skin peeking above his collar? Just about anything… She imagined slipping her hands inside his suit jacket and pressing her naked breasts against the warmth of his chest.

  She closed her eyes again, dreaming of Drake’s tanned hands gliding over her body. She wanted his mouth — with that pouty lower lip — on her nipples, needed the silky glide of his jet-black hair moving languidly down her body. Taking his time…

  “Coming?”

  “What?”

  Evan stretched his arms wide, pressing his hands on the elevator doors so they wouldn’t close on Vania. “Are you coming?”

  Vania’s head whipped back and forth, knocking off her hair clip. Her hair tumbled down her shoulders in a dark blonde mass, getting all in her face. She pushed it from her eyes and took a second look. To Vania’s horror, she was alone inside the elevator.

  “Of course, Mr. Easton, thank you for holding the doors.” She squared her shoulders and strode beneath his upraised arm, which was an easy thing to do considering her height.

  Why hadn’t Cora grabbed her arm when the elevator stopped, preventing Vania from making a fool of herself? She glared at her friend. But Cora’s eyes were following Julian as he made his way to his office. Vania shook her head and shoved her purse in her desk drawer.

  Evan walked up to her desk, lifted her hand, and placed her hair clip in her palm. “You dropped this.”

  “Thanks.” She appeared unkempt with hair tumbling around her shoulders. But Matt demanded it stay long, lost his mind when she’d once mentioned cutting it. “It’s unprofessional this way.” Twisting it, she gathered a large chunk inside the clip and fixed her up-do the best she could without a brush.

  Evan’s eyes hardened to onyx when he reached out to finger a loose curl. “Vania.”

  “Mr. Easton?”

  Right then, Cora snapped from her Julian trance and faced Vania. Evan eased back his hand without Cora noticing and stepped away.

  Vania grabbed her flip-flopping stomach.

  “You look flustered,” Cora whispered.

  Yeah, as if she’d really discuss this with Cora. Instead, Vania made a discreet brushing gesture in front of her mouth, reminding Cora she’d eaten grilled alligator tacos and onions.

  “Oh.” Cora pressed her fingertips to her mouth, and then called to Drake. “I’ll be right back, Sir.”

  Drake nodded without looking at her. “I need the schematics for our Palacio Nazarenas location, and I haven’t spotted that Singapore contract on my desk yet. Was due before lunch, I believe.”

  “I’ll get to legal, Sir, and shake them up.”

  “You do that.”

  Cora made an I’m-screwed face at Vania and marched back to the elevator.

  “Miss Lange?”

  Vania pushed her glasses up her nose with the tip of her index finger, giving her a better view of Drake. She found him staring her down with those glinting tiger-eyes. “Yes, Mr. Easton?”

  “My office in five, please.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  Drake walked into his office while lifting the phone to his ear. Her eyes dropped down his back, staring, wishing she could peel away the suit and lick what was beneath. When she turned around, Evan was next to her, studying Vania the way she was probably studying Drake.

  Vania’s cheeks grew hot, but she held Evan’s penetrative stare as he planted his ass on the corner of her desk.

  “Vania.”

  “Yes, Mr. Easton?” She sighed while grabbing a pen, a legal pad, and an electronic tablet. Vania knew what was coming.

  “It’s hard to miss the obvious.”

  She wished this day was long over. As Avery Easton’s PA, Vania needed eight arms and four brains to keep this corner of The Easton Company rolling on all axles while Avery was away. “I don’t need this right now.”

  “Because you’re in denial.”

  Vania lifted fingertips to her right eye, soothing the corner with tiny circles. “I have a tic that started today.”

  “Caused by tension, no doubt.” A lock of jet-black hair slid against his forehead when Evan leaned and traced a finger over Vania’s engagement ring. “You are beautiful as always, but miserable. Considering the way you just looked at my stepbrother, well, maybe you should give Dr. Lambert his walking papers.”

  Could her face get any hotter? She pulled back her hand, sensing the guilty weight of her diamond. “I took a damn glance.”

  “A glance, huh? With your breaths puffing from your parted lips,” Evan whispered, “like little gasps.” His eyes flicked across her face and neck. “You’re flushed, worse than that night at my club.”

  “I’m not flushed.” She curled her shoulders inward and smashed her legal pad against her stiff nipples. “Don’t exaggerate —"

  “I can see what you need.” He loomed over her, showing no mercy. “And I can give it to you better than any other man.”

  “I’m sure you can.” Evan was nothing short of hot. But where he was concerned, Avery had warned her to stay away. She needed this job, so pissing off her boss wasn’t a smart move. “From this moment forward, however, I’ll keep my eyes upward, at a respectable level. Mr. Drake Easton’s ass is no longer my concern.”

  “Make me your concern, Vania, and I will make y
ou mine.” He rubbed circles over the top of her hand until flames licked her.

  “You’ve already made me your concern.”

  “True,” he purred, “so what are we going to do about it?”

  His gaze moved down to the legal pad pressed against her chest. Her breasts were swollen and heavy, her sex void and begging to be filled. Yes, Evan managed her body with a simple look and few seductive whispers. This was pathetic; Vania needed to get laid. Why couldn’t Matt make time for her?

  “Miss Lange?” Drake called her from his doorway.

  Ever the gentleman, Evan waited for Vania to walk in front of him. She flicked a quick glance his way and caught him ogling her ass.

  Damn.

  Temptation was calling.

  Evan smiled like the devil. “Let me know if you need anything while Avery’s away.”

  “Thank you, Sir. I will.”

  Drake closed the door behind her, shrouding them in pounding quiet, and her heart quickened at his proximity.

  Drake Easton starred in her nighttime fantasies and technicolor daydreams. That is, whenever Vania had a moment to daydream. But when she did, they were vivid and rough, so very, very rough. She fought back the images assailing her even now: Drake Easton driving his cock between her legs while she screamed his name and forgot hers, until she couldn’t take a single breath without…

  “Please take a seat, Miss Lange.”

  Chapter 4

  “Yes, Sir.”

  Vania swallowed on a dry throat, and sat across from Drake’s desk. While she adjusted her pad and electronic tablet in her lap, Vania could feel Drake’s eyes on her. She heard his seat creak, a rustle of movement. Then he sat in the chair next to hers.

  “Before we begin, tell me what’s wrong.”

  “Sir, there’s nothing wrong.” She lifted her face to endless windows displaying the Gulf of Mexico to early afternoon perfection. But Drake’s body heat stole her attention. How could she sense it from a distance of several feet?

  With a light press of his fingertips on her forearm, Drake demanded she meet his amber gaze. “I have the uncanny ability to read people, helps out with undercover paparazzi, corporate takeovers, and pesky stepbrothers. Like Evan.”