Pretty Dirty Trick: A Rich Bitches Novel

by Kiss, Tabatha

  “Look at you.” Melanie sighs, smiling. “All growed up and joining the mob.”

  “Daddy’s little goombah,” Trix says, fluttering her lashes. “Of course, none of that will happen until I get him out of jail because the old fogies currently squatting in charge don’t like the females making decisions, but fuck ‘em. I’m Trix Argento. That’s my family’s crest up there.”

  “Rawr.” Melanie hisses and claws the air. “I love feisty Trix.”

  “Me, too,” I say, raising my glass. “To Trix.”

  Trix grins. “And to Nora and Mel. May we always give ‘em hell.”

  We all clink our glasses.

  “So, Nor…” Melanie says, tapping the table between us. “You? Me? Judy’s, tomorrow? Yes? Yes? Harder, baby? Harder?”

  I let out a groan, though I am oddly curious. “Okay, fine. Meet me in my office at noon sharp. We’ll go then.”

  She claps twice. “Yes! Trust me. You will find what you need to cure what ails you.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” I say dismissively, hiding behind my glass.

  “Okay...” Trix says, grabbing a menu. “I should probably eat something to soak up all this champagne.”

  I nod, feeling light-headed. “That’s a smart idea.”

  The three of us go silent as we scan the menus.

  I glance at Melanie and my lips twitch. “Are you really ovulating?” I ask.

  She slams her fist on the table, shaking the glasses. “How does he do that?!”

  Two

  Nora

  The lobby is dead quiet as I walk inside. It is Sunday, after all, and most of the companies who work here are nine-to-five Monday through Friday jobs. Mine included but I’m a confessed workaholic, so it’s not unusual for me to sneak in and do a little extra during the weekends.

  The security officer up front doesn’t even ask questions as I pass by the front desk on my way to the elevator. He glances up and nods, gently twitching his silver mustache into a kind, familiar smile.

  You’d think the founder of a major dating website would have more going on in her personal life than this.

  But you’d be wrong.

  It all started when I was a teenager.

  Hey, you two should go out.

  You know who you should meet? My pal, Johnny.

  You’d get along great.

  My talents for tagging compatible partners grew more and more until friends of friends of friends all over Chicago were practically paying me to start setting them up on dates from my famous black book.

  Yes, the Little Black Book. The number one dating app in the entire world.

  That was all me and my picture-perfect love-matching algorithms.

  Add in a little luck with early investments in cryptocurrency and I made my first million before the age of twenty-five. Five years later and I’m one of the Top 3 Wealthiest Women Under 30 in Chicago. The other two?

  Beatrix Argento and Melanie Rose.

  That was last year’s list, of course. We all turned thirty this year but we’ll still be just as influential without the benefit of our 20s. The fire beneath Little Black Book is far from burning out.

  Unfortunately, my talents for love-matching don’t work so well on yours truly, but you know what they say.

  Those who can’t do; teach.

  I ride the elevator to the fifteenth floor. The lights are down as I step off but I could navigate this sea of desks with my eyes closed. My office is on the far side — in the corner, naturally — and I walk toward it on autopilot. The paperwork I need to fix is on my computer so it shouldn’t take too long to take care of. Then, maybe I’ll head home and actually take the rest of Sunday off.

  Or not. We’ll see.

  I twist the knob and push open my office door. I instantly grind to a halt as I see someone sitting in my desk chair in the dark, the sharp features of their face illuminated by nothing more than the bright blue of my computer monitor.

  My new temp. My hot, new temp.

  “Excuse me.” I flick on the lights. “What are you doing in here?”

  “Whoa—” He jumps out of the chair and throws up his hand. “Hi, there. I was not expecting you to be here today.”

  I step up to the desk. “Why are you on my computer?” I ask him.

  He lowers his hands. “Okay, I’m sorry. I was in bed last night and I suddenly realized that I made a really big mistake on the budget report—”

  “Yes, you did.” I cross my arms.

  “Right. So, I rushed out here as soon as I could today to try and fix it before you came in tomorrow but then I remember that it gets locked at five on Fridays and the only way to access it was…” He waves at my computer. “So, I jimmied the lock and—”

  “You jimmied my lock?” I repeat, my voice pitching as I inspect the door.

  “It’s not broken or anything, I swear. But I fixed the thing! And the numbers add up now and… I’m really sorry, Mrs. Payne.”

  I squint, letting my eyes hop from him to the computer and back again. “You fixed it?” I ask.

  “I did.” He gestures to the monitor. “See for yourself.”

  I set my purse down on the edge of the desk and walk around to take a look. He stays on the opposite side of me the entire time, rounding to stand in front looking nervous as all hell. I might as well have caught him with his pants down based on that white-faced reaction.

  Still, he’s no less stunningly gorgeous with broad, muscular shoulders and a thin layer of sweat on his brow and those cheekbones—

  Focus, Nora.

  I sit down in my chair and look at the monitor. My budget software is indeed open right to the mistake he made. Perfectly corrected.

  “Again, I’m really sorry,” he says above me.

  “It’s...” I scan the lines again, double-checking for accuracy. “It’s okay. You did the right thing — though I am a little protective of my stuff, so next time, maybe just leave a note?”

  “I did leave a note,” he says, pointing down.

  My eyes catch the bright pink post-it note stuck to the edge of the monitor. I peel it off to read it.

  “Sorry for the fuck up, Mrs. Payne. Clive.” I chuckle at the casual tone. “That about covers it, then.”

  “And there won’t be a next time,” he says. “I promise. I know how much of an opportunity it is working here for you and I’ll do better, starting right now.”

  I smile, trying hard not to fawn over him. I don’t know what it is I find so attractive about a younger guy who just wants to please me, but...

  Clive clears his throat and walks backward a few paces. “Well, anyway, I should get out of here. Last time: I’m sorry, Mrs. Payne. It won’t happen again.”

  “Clive,” I say.

  He stops in the doorway. “Yes, Mrs. Payne?”

  “It’s Ms.”

  He smiles, revealing a gorgeous set of bright, white teeth. “I apologize, Ms. Payne,” he says slowly. “Won’t happen again.”

  “Enjoy the rest of your weekend,” I add.

  “I will,” he says. “You, too. I’ll, uh… I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  My eyes wander downward as he exits my office, instantly clinging to the tight rear just begging to rip free of those pants. I sign hard once he’s out of earshot.

  Goddamn, that’s a good tushy.

  I kick my ankle off the floor and spin my chair around to look out the windows at the Chicago sky.

  Maybe I should go over my notes again for the meeting tomorrow.

  Or, I could go home and take Sunday off.

  Notes, it is.

  Three

  Clive

  That was close. Too close.

  The elevator begins its descent downward and I release the breath I’ve been holding since the second I left her office.

  Now, what?

  I hang my head, counting the floor indicator dings all the way down to the ground floor.

  As the doors open, the old security guard looks up from his phone. I fake a smi
le and wave at him as I pass, trying very hard not to make it so obvious how much my heart is struggling to remain in my chest.

  I step outside and zip up my jacket to block the windchill as I bolt down the street.

  Alex isn’t going to like this but how the hell was I supposed to know she’d show up today? It’s fucking Sunday.

  We made plans to meet at the coffee shop down the street after I got it. I’m not looking forward to that excited look he’ll have as soon as I walk in, like a kid on Christmas morning.

  Sorry, kiddo. Rough year. Enjoy the socks.

  I linger outside with my fingers on the door handle, dreading the next few minutes of my life, but I’ve been through worse. We both have and we’re still here. That counts for something, right?

  I pull open the door, knocking the entry bell, and exactly one head in the whole place turns to look.

  Alex’s face instantly lights up from the corner table. I don’t smile back. There’s no reason to get his hopes up over nothing.

  He studies the look on my face as I move closer to his table. By the time I sit down across from him, I’ve officially kicked his Christmas puppy in the face.

  “Did you get it?” he asks, grasping at the last bit of hope he has.

  I shake my head. “No, I did not.”

  His shoulders fall. “Why the hell not?”

  “She walked in before I could get it,” I answer, glancing around at the occupied tables on either side.

  “She walked in?” he repeats, his voice growing.

  “Yeah.”

  “But it’s Sunday.”

  “Well, she came into the office today.”

  “Who the hell works on a Sunday?”

  A few heads turn in our direction.

  “Ms. Nora Payne, apparently,” I say, giving him a sour look.

  Alex takes the signal and reels his shit back in. “Well… fuck,” he says under his breath. “Now, what? We were supposed to deliver the list today.”

  “Call and tell them we hit a snag,” I say. “No big deal. I’ll just have to figure out a more creative way of getting alone with her computer. One that doesn’t risk me getting fired. Still kind of need this job…”

  His face turns white. “Whatever you think of, think it fast, Clive.”

  I furrow my brow. “What’s the hurry? The thing will be worth just as much in a few days. Hell, it might actually be worth more—”

  “I don’t have a few days—” He stops, snapping his lips shut as he realizes he’s raising his voice again.

  I exhale hard. “Alex, what exactly are you not telling me?”

  He waves a hand. “Don’t worry about it.”

  Don’t worry about it. The ultimate deflector. Alex’s default setting.

  Alex reads my concern. “Look, man, I have this under control.”

  “Yeah, you’re looking real stable right now, Alex.”

  He ignores it. “I promised I’d handle the details and I’ll handle the details. You just focus on getting the client list. Okay?”

  “I am focused on getting it. I just don’t think your buyer realizes how difficult it is to access a CEO’s private computer software.”

  “I never said it’d be easy.” He points at me. “In fact, I said it wouldn’t be, but you still volunteered. Remember?”

  “I remember. I also remember you telling me it’d all be worth it.”

  “It will all be worth it,” he says, clearly not giving a shit about his volume again. “I gave you my word that I would make it all worth it. Do you trust me?”

  I shift in my seat. “Yeah, Alex. I do. Calm the fuck down.”

  He takes a breath. “I’m sorry, I just…” He taps the table with his thumb. “I feel like I’ve let you down.”

  I shake my head. “You haven’t let me down. No one’s let anybody down.”

  “Your life isn’t what it should be and that’s my fault.” He lets out a chuckle and glares into his empty coffee mug. “It’s always been my fault. I’m gonna make it up to you.”

  I sigh, moving on. “Give me another few days,” I tell him. “I’ll get the client list. Just tell your guy I’ll do my best. All right?”

  “How long we talking here? Can you get it tomorrow night?” he asks, a glimmer of hope in his voice.

  “No, I work tomorrow night.”

  “It’s an office temp job, man. Why the fuck do you have to be there on a Monday night?”

  “Not that job. My other job.”

  He grunts with amusement. “The gym or the sex dungeon?”

  I snort. “It’s not a dungeon.”

  “Oh, yeah? Well, what do you call it?”

  “I call it work,” I say. “Work is work.”

  “Hey.” He taps the table, smiling wide. “We finish this job and you won’t even need to work. The two of us will never have to work a day in our lives ever again. Eh? How’s that sound?”

  “Yeah.” I nod. “It sounds pretty good.”

  Four

  Nora

  My eyes keep shifting toward my desk clock and each time I feel just a little more disappointed that only minutes have passed. Monday is usually a rough start day but ever since Melanie urged me to check out the sex club, I’ve felt a rush of excitement I haven’t experienced in a good long while.

  Excuse me. Kink club. Not sex club.

  Of course, I should have known when I told Melanie to meet me at noon, she wouldn’t actually make it sharp.

  I squint at the clock. 12:15.

  Bestselling romance author, Melanie Rose, lives in her own little world — which is fine. She’s more than earned it. But for the rest of us that live in a world of alarm clocks and time sheets, a blatant disregard for punctuality can be quite annoying.

  I grab my phone to prepare a biting text message just as someone knocks on my door frame.

  “What’s up, bitch?”

  I sigh at Melanie’s grin and reach for my purse. “You’re late,” I tell her.

  “You’re surprised?” she asks.

  “No,” I answer. “Just tell me you finished that chapter you were working on.”

  She hesitates. “Define finished.”

  I throw my purse over my shoulder. “Let’s get this over with.”

  “Nu-uh,” she says, pointing at me. “Not with that attitude. No one walks into Judy’s with cat-butt face.”

  “I do not have cat-butt face.”

  “I want bright, smiling faces and wide-open minds,” she says. “You’ll never find a good Dom if you look like you just bit into a rotten fish. Though, who am I kidding, there’s probably a fetish for that out there somewhere.”

  “I’m not even—” I lower my voice, realizing my office door is still open. “I’m not even looking for a Dom. It’s a little soon for that, isn’t it?”

  “Oh.” She winces. “Probably shouldn’t have put out that ad, then.”

  My face drops. “What ad?”

  She breaks character and slaps my shoulder. “Just kidding. Let’s go get our whips and chains on.”

  I heave a thick sigh to conceal my laugh as we make our way toward the elevator.

  * * *

  Judy’s — despite what Melanie calls it — isn’t actually called Judy’s at all.

  The club is called The Red Brick Road and it’s nestled, of all places, in plain sight a few blocks down from my own office building between a coffee shop and some hipster record store.

  I blink from the sidewalk, staring up at the wooden sign above the red doorway. “The Red Brick Road?” I ask.

  Melanie nods. “Yeah, you ever notice how when Dorothy and her friends skip down the yellow road, there’s a red brick road heading in the opposite direction?”

  “No,” I answer.

  “Well, now you won’t be able to unsee it,” she says with a smile. “Come on.”

  Melanie steps forward and holds the door open for me. I lower my head and force myself to walk in quickly just in case someone sees me. There’s a deep throb grow
ing in my gut. I don’t know what makes me so nervous about all of it. I’m not committing to anything. I’m just taking a look around.

  The Red Brick Road lives up to its name. The entryway is a closed off room with one very large red door and a reception desk that looks way too innocent, not unlike the counter at the DMV. A path made of red bricks curls from the door to the counter, branching in the middle to lead toward the red door.

  Even the woman sitting behind the counter seems out of place for some sadistic sex dungeon. She’s middle-aged and round as a blueberry with thin, wire-rimmed glasses hanging from a chain about her neck and tiny earbud headphones in her ears. My gaze lingers on her neck and the large, leather collar just beneath her chin with a thick, silver padlock.

  Melanie throws up her arms. “Yo, Judy!”

  The woman flinches in her chair and pulls the earbuds out of her ears, quickly popping her hanging glasses up over her nose. She gasps, her wide, red-painted lips instantly cracking a grin.

  “Mel Rose, is that you?” she asks.

  “The one and only.” Melanie leans into the counter on her elbow. “You’re looking well. How’s business?”

  “As pleasurable as ever,” she answers, glancing over Melanie’s shoulder at me. “And this must be the friend you mentioned.”

  Melanie reaches back to grab my wrist and yanks me closer. “Yes. This is my BFF, Nora, and we’re here to play.”

  “Well, not play play,” I say, clearing my throat. “I mean... we don’t... I mean, she and I don’t play...” I shut my trap.

  Judy smirks at Melanie. “A virgin, huh?”

  Melanie snorts. “Might as well be.”

  “Well, go on in. Should be pretty quiet in there for you.”

  “Thank you, Judy.”

  Melanie grabs my hand and lays it flat on the counter. She picks up an ink stamp and presses into the back of my hand, leaving behind a curvy, womanly shape on my skin.

  “What’s this for?” I ask.

  “Just giving you the full experience,” she says with a wink at Judy. “Come on.” Melanie hooks my arm and draws me to the door with her.