Piper: The Casanova Club #1

by Ali Parker

  I probably wouldn’t be the first girl to have done it.

  Who was I kidding? I would definitely be the first girl showing up to her time slot for the Casanova Club on a bike in jeans and a button-up shirt. How humiliating.

  My last forty-five minutes went by surprisingly fast. It was probably because of how terrified I was. When the clock struck two thirty, I hurried by the kitchen where my mother and Aldo were working away, and I took my apron off as I went.

  I should have waited until I was in the back room. My mother must have seen me untying it when I passed the kitchen. She followed me to the back and watched as I put my jacket on. She folded her arms. “Where are you going?”

  “I’m sorry, Mom. I told you I couldn’t do a full day today. You’re going to have to make it work without me today.”

  “We need you here, Piper. It’s not negotiable.”

  “And neither is me leaving. I can’t explain right now. I don’t want to abandon you, but I just… Mom, I have to go. I love you.” I gave her a quick kiss on the cheek as I rushed outside with my bag over my shoulder. I got on my bike and set off down the sidewalk toward the club.

  I wished I’d remembered to wear my gloves. My fingers were freezing cold within seconds.

  * * *

  There was nowhere to lock up my bike outside the Casanova Club building, which was at least sixty stories high. The design was luxurious and modern. The whole outside of the building was all dark glass that reflected the lights of the city all around it. It was almost magical.

  And I was going to have to roll my fucking bike through the lobby.

  “Why did you not think ahead, Piper?” I scolded myself.

  There was no sense in dilly dallying. I had to go in there one way or another. I was not going to let the embarrassment of walking with my bike through the boujee lobby stop me from getting my hands on a million dollars. There was just no way.

  So, I pushed through the doors and walked with my chin held high. I ignored all the people around me. I didn’t dare make eye contact with any of them, for fear that I would turn around and run the other way. I felt terribly unworthy as I stopped in front of the reception desk.

  The young woman sitting behind it looked up with a practiced smile on her lips. When she saw me, her smile faltered a bit. “Hello, can I help you?”

  I nodded. “Yes. Um. My name is Piper James. I’m here for the Casanova Club.”

  “You are?” she asked. Her tone of incredulity was not subtle. But I couldn’t blame her.

  “Yes, and I believe my friend Janie left a bag of things with you for me to pick up. A bag of clothes.”

  “Oh. Yes. Piper. Hold on one moment.” She leaned down and rummaged around under her desk before sitting back up to hoist a bag onto the counter.

  I smiled. “Thank you. Now, where do I go?”

  The girl looked over to the elevators. “The Club is on the top floor.”

  “Thank you,” I said, gathering my things under my arms.

  “One moment,” she said, getting to her feet.

  I turned back toward her. I was out of breath. My shirt stuck to my hot sweaty skin. “Yes?”

  “May I suggest you use the staff bathroom down here to get ready prior to going up to the club?”

  I blinked.

  “I mean no offense. I just know how this thing goes upstairs, and well, it’s for the best.”

  “I’m not offended.” And I wasn’t. I was grateful.

  She smiled. “Come with me. I’ll let you in. Just make sure you lock the door before you leave.”

  “What about my bike?”

  “Leave it here. I’ll keep it with me behind the desk.”

  “I don’t know when I’ll be picking it up,” I said.

  “That’s okay. Security can lock it up overnight if need be. It’s safe here.”

  I appreciated that she spoke about my bike like it was important to me. I thought someone in her position—with perfectly manicured nails, a new blowout, and eyelash extensions—would look at my bike with disgust.

  “Thank you,” I said. I continued to thank her over the course of the three minutes it took to get to the staff bathroom. She unlocked the door and pushed it open, and I stepped inside.

  The receptionist gave me another smile. “Knock ‘em dead.”

  Silence wrapped itself around me when the door fell closed behind her. I locked it like she told me to do. Then I went to the mirror and stared at my reflection.

  Luckily, my makeup had not smudged at all. My cat eye was still perfect. I needed to put more red on my lips, but that was easy. I could manage that on my own.

  I fixed my face and brushed through my tangled curls. It took a bit of the integrity out of them but brought back the shine that had been lost from riding my bike out in the snow. I shook the curls out and then unpacked the bag Janie had left for me.

  I stripped and pulled the long-sleeved black crop top over my head. Then I stepped into the high-waisted black leather pants Janie had brought. I stared at my reflection. My ass looked great, but this was certainly not the impression I had been planning on making. It was a bit racey and much more revealing and badass than what I was used to. I’d been planning on looking a little sweeter the first time I met the guys.

  Panicked, I called Janie.

  She answered on the first ring. “Please tell me you’re going to make it there in time.”

  “I am. I’m at the building right now I’m just getting changed.”

  “Oh, thank God.”

  “I’m calling about the pants,” I said.

  “What about them?” Janie asked.

  I stared at my reflection in the floor-length mirror hanging on one of the walls beside the hand dryer. I turned sideways and then twisted around to look at my ass. “They’re very tight.”

  Janie snickered. “Yes. That was kind of the point.”

  “I feel like I’m pimping myself out.”

  “That’s exactly what you’re doing,” Janie said flatly.

  “I don’t think this is the impression I should be making. Isn’t it a little too much? Shouldn’t I wear a nice dress or something? I could—”

  “Piper, I know what I’m doing. Every girl that those guys lay eyes on today will be dressed like a southern belle. Well, a slutty southern belle. Dresses and skirts and feminine things. I want you to stand out. It’s not the sixties anymore. Men like women with an edge. And you’ve always had an edge. You’re a self-made, kick-ass, hard-working chick. That’s what they should see when they first lay eyes on you.”

  I swallowed, and my voice trembled when I spoke. “You’re sure?”

  “Positive. Now tell me. How are you holding up?”

  “I feel like I have to poop.”

  Janie laughed. “Then poop.”

  “I can’t! It’s nervous poops! My body is trying to trick me so I stay on the toilet, rather than go upstairs to where a bunch of hot dudes are waiting to meet me. Oh God. I think I’m going to throw up.”

  “No. No, you are not. You’ll mess up your makeup.”

  “Priorities,” I mumbled.

  “Right now, your priority is meeting those men. Shake yourself out. Take a few deep breaths. You can do this in your sleep, Piper. Your daily schedule is way more intense than saying hi to a bunch of dudes. You’ve totally got this. And I know for a fact you look hot as hell right now. Go knock their fucking socks off.”

  “Yeah,” I said, nodding at my reflection. “Yeah. You’re right. Okay. I’m gonna do it.”

  “I love you, Piper.”

  “I love you too, Janie. I’ll call you when I’m done.”

  “Don’t forget to have fun,” Janie said.

  I hung up the phone and put it on silent.

  Then I gave myself one last look in the mirror.

  The girl looking back at me was a bombshell. I’d never felt that way about myself before, but I felt it now. She was strong, and she had confidence. She was ready to take on the world in her lea
ther pants and crop top.

  There was just one thing missing.

  I looked down at my feet and nearly yelped. I was still wearing the sneakers I’d worn to the restaurant. I scrambled out of them and my wet socks and put on the black pumps with the red soles.

  The outfit was complete, and the heels made me feel like a fucking boss.

  “Let’s go trick a bunch of dudes into thinking you’re wife material,” I said to myself before gathering my shit up and hurrying out of the bathroom.

  Chapter 22

  Max

  I ran my hands up and down my thighs as I peered down at the chessboard. I was all out of moves. My opponent, my eighty-three-year-old grandmother, was smiling sheepishly at me. She knew I was done for.

  “Checkmate,” she said, her voice shaking with age and excitement.

  I threw my hands in the air as she slid her Queen across the board and took out my King. “You win every time!”

  “Because you make the same mistakes every time,” she said.

  My grandmother was and always had been a very wise woman. I was happy to have the chance to spend the afternoon with her here at her senior home. It had been far too long since I saw her last, and this Casanova event had given me the chance to see her a lot over the last few months.

  She and I were both glad for it.

  “So how much time do you have left, Max?” she asked as she slowly leaned back in her chair. She adjusted the shawl draped over her shoulders. It was a multicolored pattern of various types of flowers, and she’d had it for years. Decades, even.

  “Well, if I’m being honest, I probably should have left an hour ago.”

  Her eyes widened a little bit behind her glasses. “Max. Shame on you. If you have other obligations, please go. I’m just fine here. You can come back when you have more time.”

  “I’m enjoying myself.”

  She smiled. There were so many wrinkles in her cheeks and around her mouth. “You’re a good boy, Max. I’m glad we have been able to spend more time together these last few months. You keep my memory sharp. None of these other people are much good at chess, you know?”

  “Can you blame them? They’re senile, and you’re a retired pro.”

  She laughed. “You’re as smooth a talker as you’ve always been. Are you going to use some of your lines on the women today?”

  I wasn’t supposed to have told anyone about the Casanova Club or the details of how the upcoming year was going to go. But I needed someone to confide in, and that someone had always been my grandmother. She could keep a secret like nobody’s business, and I appreciated her wise and honest advice. She’d never led me astray, and I sensed I would need her two cents on more than one occasion as I became more engrossed in the process of dating the woman we chose this weekend. Stakes were high.

  “I might use a couple lines, yeah,” I said sheepishly.

  My grandmother covered her mouth as she giggled. “You are most certainly your father’s son. I knew you’d be trouble the first time I held you in my hands.”

  “I know. I’ve been told.”

  “Well, I hope she knows how lucky she is when she meets you, Max. You have a lot to offer. You just need to find a woman who recognizes that kind heart of yours. Maybe you’re going to meet her today.”

  “Ever the optimist, aren’t you, Nana?”

  “When you’re as old as me and have been as lucky in life as I have, it’s impossible not to be.”

  “Have I told you that you’d make tons of money writing fortune cookies?”

  She waved me off. “Yes. Many times. But those are nonsense.”

  “They’re not just generic optimism?” I asked deviously.

  She clicked her tongue at me. “You’d better get your smart ass out of here and downtown before you miss the chance to meet the girl of your dreams.”

  Laughing, I stood up and went over to give my grandmother a hug and a kiss on her forehead. “I can’t wait to tell you all about it.”

  “You know where to find me,” she said, patting my hand on her shoulder. “Make sure you flash the ladies that smile of yours. It’ll do the trick.”

  “All right, Nana. I will.”

  * * *

  Jackson Lee called me when I was on my way into the city after leaving the home. He was in a mood and scolded me for being late. I’d already missed the interviews of the first three women.

  “It’s not my fault,” I said. “I was visiting my elderly grandmother.”

  Jackson sighed into the phone. “I can’t wait until this shit is over. Just get here, all right?”

  “I’m on my way now. I’ll be there in half an hour. Tops.”

  “Good,” Jackson said, and then he hung up.

  I guessed I would be stressed too, managing something this involved. Not only did he need to keep track of the twelve of us guys, but he also had to corral all the women and make sure everyone was doing what they were supposed to be doing to make the whole operation run smoothly.

  I wouldn’t have attempted it in my wildest dreams.

  I got to the club just when I said I would. I parked my car underground and took the elevator up to the lobby, where I purchased myself a cup of coffee in one of the lounges. From there, I made my way over to the elevator. I just missed one of them. The doors closed when I was a couple feet away. Groaning at my stupid timing, I punched the button and waited for the next elevator.

  I stepped in and rode it to the top floor.

  When I stepped out, I was greeted with the familiar smell of oak, pine, and firewood. Man smell. The club smelled like that every day. It was subtle enough to not cause headaches.

  I crossed the open lobby and stepped through the solid wood doors that read “Casanova Club” in gold letters. As the door swung closed behind me, I went to the reception desk to check in.

  And stopped dead in my tracks.

  A woman stood at the front desk, talking to the receptionist. She had her back to me, and the view from back here was incredible.

  She was wearing a killer pair of black high heels with a red sole. I let my gaze follow the lines of her long, strong-looking legs. They were wrapped in tight leather pants that hugged all her curves and showed off her ass.

  I swallowed.

  A couple inches of her waist were exposed between the pants and her cropped, skin-tight black shirt. Her long auburn hair was drawn over one shoulder, and I watched in fascination as she bent down to pick up the two bags at her feet.

  She walked around the desk, and the receptionist took her things with a polite smile.

  I forced myself to step forward, and I stood beside her as the receptionist handed her a form to fill out.

  Then the receptionist looked up at me. “Hello, Mr. Fisher. Jackson is expecting you in the conference room.”

  “Thanks,” I said, but my eyes never left the young woman beside me.

  Her skin was fair and unblemished. Her cheeks were flushed, and her lips parted as she concentrated while she filled out the form. My cock twitched when she ran her tongue along her full, red bottom lip.

  Fuck me. Who is this girl?

  I would have remembered seeing her photo in all the pictures Jackson had us stare at over the last few weeks. And I sure as shit would have remembered seeing her last night at the mixer.

  She looked at me out of the corner of her eyes. A tiny smile curled the corners of her lips, and her cheeks turned a brighter shade of pink. My heart fluttered like it belonged to a hormone-crazy teenage boy.

  She looked back down quickly and continued filling out the form.

  She was nervous. Very nervous.

  Why?

  I wanted her to look at me again. I wanted to stare into those big brown eyes of hers.

  But she didn’t look up. She kept on writing, and I had no excuse for standing there like an idiot, staring at her.

  So, I walked away and headed toward the long hallway that would lead to the conference room. Right before I rounded the corner, I looked
back over my shoulder.

  She was looking at me.

  I gave her a roguish smile. She gave me a smile of her own. It was full of light and wonder and joy, and it was the sort of smile a guy like me wasn’t lucky enough to see often. The women I was surrounded by most of the time were business professionals. Their smiles were rehearsed and often used during sales or business exchanges.

  Working for big tech companies demanded that.

  But her smile was full of life. She didn’t work a corporate job. That much, I was sure of. I doubted she was in sales or marketing or anything of that sort. She was hard for me to get a read on, though. The leather pants and the shoes suggested she was a risk taker, but her kind eyes proposed a different idea as to what sort of woman she might be.

  I dropped my head and turned away to make my way down the hall. A torrent of questions I had for her rolled around in my mind, and I wished she was one of the women we were going to interview.

  What was she doing here? Who was she? How could I run into her again?

  And how could I get her to smile at me like that again?

  Chapter 23

  Piper

  Wow.

  My palms were sweating. I put the pen down and shook my hands out as the receptionist picked up my registration form and slipped it into a folder. Apparently, I had to sign up for a temporary club membership, even though I might only be considered an active member for the next three days.

  Maybe less. Maybe more.

  “He’s a looker, ain’t he?” the receptionist asked me. Her name was Ava.

  I nodded. “Um, yeah. Is he a member?”

  The guy who’d just stood beside me and then disappeared down the hall was insanely sexy. Sure, he was a bit nerdy, with the glasses and the soft-spoken voice, but he was hot as hell.

  Ava gave me a knowing smile. “He’s one of the Casanova boys.”

  I felt my mouth fall open.

  Ava giggled. “I know. It takes a little bit to get used to it. But you will. Trust me. All the guys coming through those doors are like him. Different of course, but all drool worthy. You’re a lucky girl to have the chance to meet them all.”