by Linnea May
This man is turning me upside down in a way he shouldn't. He makes me act inane and clumsy, and being around him turns me into a giggly mess, like a lovestruck teenager....
I shake my head to shut up the voices echoing inside my head.
He's a client. A client. A special client, okay. But still. There shouldn't be any room for confusion here.
Despite the intimacy we share, despite the raw and honest side he just revealed, despite the trust he puts in me to keep his secret safe, I shouldn’t be confusing our relationship for anything other than what it is: a client and call girl business deal.
I can sense his discomfort at sharing such a personal detail about his past with me, and I know only one way to ease this concern from his mind.
"I understand," I say in a soothing voice. "I mean... I don't know what it's like to have parents in prison, or even anything about the whole drug-using part, but... I know what it's like to despise the people who brought life to you."
Damon sits up then, supporting himself on his elbows. He directs his full attention to me, cocking his head to the side in question. "What did they do to you?"
His question appears spiked with two conflicting emotions, possessive anger and worry. He appears visibly upset about the idea of anyone hurting me, even though his voice was soft and calm when he posed the question.
I sit up, too, so that we’re at eye-level, and place my hand on his thigh in a calming gesture.
"I wasn't neglected the way you were," I tell him. "And I don't hate my mother. If anything, I feel kind of sorry for her. My father left us when I was still a toddler. Just walked out of our lives, leaving my mother with two small children."
"Fucking asshole," Damon hisses, not even trying to hide his anger. "I'm sorry, but-"
"No need to be sorry," I quickly assure him. "He is a fucking asshole, and if I knew where he was, I'd march right up to him and give it to him straight."
He nods, his face still strained with anger. "What about your mother?"
I sigh. "She's a hopeless romantic, despite all of this. I've had two official stepdads since my father left, and a lot of unofficial ones in between. She declared each and every single one of them to be the true love of her life."
"That's... almost admirable."
"Is it?" I offer a solemn laugh. "To be honest, I haven't quite decided yet whether to envy or pity my mother."
It's hard to read the expression on his face. There's a hint of a smile when he looks at me, one that gives the impression there's something he wants to say. Whatever it is, he can't bring himself to say it.
I return his look with an equally quiet smile, suddenly reminded of the fact that I'm naked, and thirsty.
"How about that drink now?" I ask. "You still have some time before you have to leave, right?"
He nods. "Definitely. Let's get your well-deserved Manhattan."
"Well-deserved?" I repeat, as he helps me up on my feet. "Are you saying I did a good job tonight?"
He throws me a sinister smirk before wrapping his arms around me again. He pulls my naked body against his, and plants a sensual kiss on my unsuspecting lips. It awakens an insatiable craving that's still nestled deep inside my core, despite the erotic time we just spent together.
"Does this feel like work?" he asks, his gray eyes locking onto mine.
I shake my head. "Not at all."
And that's the problem, right there. It is work. I shouldn't want to be lingering here after we're done, and I certainly shouldn't be daydreaming about this man, when for all I know, he could disappear from my life at any moment without owing me anything but the payment for today’s services. He's still paying an extra fee to reserve this room for just the two of us every single night. I need to remember that. We have an agreement between us, a contract, and he’s paying a lot of money to secure our time together.
It's a business deal, not a romantic relationship.
But it's so fucking hard to accept that.
Chapter 36
Damon
I have been waking up in rather good moods lately, maybe because I’ve been going to bed and falling asleep with my balls emptied and my heart as full as my head. Elene occupies almost all the space I have to give, even pushing aside the business that I would have agonized over way more than I do if it wasn't for her. I have seen her every single night for almost two weeks now. She's keeping me stable, satiated, and... happy.
Happy – a word I've never, ever tied to myself. Is this what it feels like when a high doesn't end after a violent rush? It keeps you elevated for days, weeks, maybe months? Is this something that could last for years?
I wouldn't mind drifting along on these comforting thoughts for a while longer, but reality calls for my undivided attention like an officer beating down my door, threatening to destroy everything I have built over the past few years.
"Fraud?!" I yell at my poor adviser, watching him flinch under my enraged voice. "What the fucking hell, Dean?! Fraud?!"
Dean is sitting behind the large desk in my office, as always surrounded by mountains of paperwork, as if it’s going to protect him from my fury. I'm pacing angrily up and down the, back and forth, trying to remain as far away as possible from him in the confined space. He's not the one to blame for this shit, I know that. Dean is merely the messenger, bringing me news that is far more shocking than the possibility of losing my investment in a risky startup venture.
"How the hell could this happen to us?" I bark at the poor guy. "Is this not why we incorporate antifraud provisions in our contracts? We must have some kind of insurance for this!"
Dean raises his hands in defense. "I'm looking into it. You don't have to worry-"
"Don't have to worry?!" I cut him off, yelling louder than I had intended. "We should have seen this coming! This is why he has been so ambiguous about his use of proceeds — because that motherfucker never intended to execute the fucking business plan he presented to us in the first place."
Dean nods along as I recount the things he informed me of this morning. Scott, that little shithead, committed fraud on such a large scale that I’d almost be impressed, if it wasn't that he got caught and decided to drag my name through the mud with him. As his startup’s primary investor, I'm also liable for the crime he committed, even though I had nothing to do with his actions.
"He used the provision that his business was exempt from having to be registered with regulatory authorities to his advantage," Dean explains to me again, only echoing the things he already told me earlier today. "There will be an investigation, and as long as that is going on, I suggest we keep our heads low. I have scheduled a meeting with our attorneys for later this afternoon. You'll see, in a few weeks tops, this will all be behind us."
He clears his throat, and then adds, "As will the money you invested, I'm afraid."
"Fuck the money," I snarl. "That's not what I'm worried about. You know I didn’t invest more than I could afford to lose."
He nods. "As always, you made a very smart decision."
"Thanks," I say, unable to hide the sarcasm in my tone.
"Scott is the one at fault for misstating his security offer toward you. The authorities are focused on him," Dean says, in an effort to calm me. "They need to talk to you first, to confirm that you were truly unaware of his plans and he deceived you."
"Easy enough," I snarl.
"Until then I suggest laying low," Dean adds. He has an odd expression on his face, one that almost appears painful.
I jerk my chin in his direction, asking for him to clarify his counsel .
"Well, um, I had to contact everyone you're doing business with at the moment," he stammers uncomfortably, shifting in his seat, as he always does when he's about to deliver bad news. "That lady, the madam at that club, The Velvet Rooms. I had to call her to share what we're dealing with at the moment."
"And?" I urge, when he stops speaking, only adding an unnecessary pause when I was alre
ady at the edge of my seat.
"Any further investment from you has been withdrawn," he finally ventures. "Or, rather, it’s been put on hold."
My breath catches, and it feels as if a tight clamp is closing around my throat, cutting off the oxygen to my lungs. A strange nauseating feeling churns in my gut, a fiery and sickening blend that delivers an unexplained sense of foreboding panic and loss rushing through my veins.
"What does that mean?" I produce through clenched teeth.
"They're no longer accepting your money," Dean states. "And your VIP status has been revoked. For now."
"For now," I repeat. I feel dizzy. "Does that mean I’m no longer allowed inside the fucking club? Because I have a criminal lawsuit pending against me that I have nothing to do with?"
Dean sighs, pinching at the bridge of his nose.
"It's temporary," he insists quickly. "The woman was adamant. She has a business to run herself, and I’m sure you can understand why a business, of that nature especially, wants to stay as far away from any legal trouble as it can."
Yes, I fucking get that. Of course, Miss Barry is worried about keeping anything associated with her business on the up and up.
"I'll have to talk to her," I utter, my voice shaking. "This is unacceptable."
"I would advise you not to," Dean interjects. "It's best to stay low and not draw any more attention in our direction. We need to figure this situation out first."
He sighs then, and leans back in his chair, with his arms crossed in front of his chest. It's a position I rarely see him take.
"Besides," he adds. "Your affiliation with that club is a far smaller investment and just a leisurely pursuit, nothing we need to worry about right now. Miss Barry was clear that she doesn't want you contacting her directly as long as you’re still involved in an impending lawsuit."
I growl at his words, doubling up my fists in anger. He's right, I know he's right, and I understand where Miss Barry is coming from.
But I can't believe I'm fucking banned from The Velvet Rooms. Just a leisure pursuit, Dean says. If only that was true.
My rage turns into a suffocating fear of loss when I think of her, when I think of Elene and spending time together every evening in our sanctuary.
What will become of us?
And how the hell am I supposed to see her again?
Chapter 37
Elene
"What?"
The way I utter the word makes me sound like an idiot, and I’m incapable of formulating anything else. I can't believe what she's telling me. Miss Barry had been standing right outside the door to our dressing room when I almost ran into her, in a hurry to get upstairs to take my position, like I do every evening.
Up until a few seconds ago, it was a night like any other. I got to the club around eight-thirty, chatted with Sandi who started working her shift an hour earlier, and then went to the dressing room to change, or rather, to undress. For the past few weeks, I've only been wearing the black silk kimono and black flat-heeled sandals. I always removed both articles as soon as I stepped into the black velvet room, and then lowered myself to the floor to wait for him, kneeling with my head down.
Ever since the first night that he fucked me, he has shown up every single night, never making me wait long. Sometimes, he'd step through the curtain just a minute after I'd taken my position, making me wonder if he'd already been at the club and had just been waiting for me to get ready for him.
My deal with him was clearly spelled out and agreed to by Miss Barry, who promised not to interfere unless we were somehow disturbing other club guests.
This is why her words aren’t making any sense to me. When I bumped into her standing outside the dressing room, with her hands on the hips and her red painted lips pursed in a thin, solemn line, I didn't even consider that she might want to talk to me. Judging from her rather annoyed and impatient expression, I figured one of the other girls had messed up and was in for a reprimand.
She had been waiting for me, though. I followed her to her office, my hands clasped together and head lowered, a slew of silent questions running wildly through my head. I couldn’t figure out what I may have done wrong. She gestured for me to sit down opposite her desk, my eyes flying to the clock on the wall, worried that this meeting would make me late for my date with Damon.
And then she told me in a cold, monotonous voice that there was no date. That the room was no longer being paid for, and that Damon was no longer a VIP member of The Velvet Rooms.
My mouth fell open and my eyes widened in disbelief, as I frantically tried to comprehend what this development meant for me, for us.
"I can no longer reserve that room under your private contract," Miss Barry says, repeating her previous statement, but using different phrasing. "Sir Graves is no longer paying for the room, and he's no longer a VIP member of this establishment."
Sir Graves. He hates to be called that. My insides twist in anger.
"Why? What happened?" I demand. "Did he just... cancel?"
Miss Barry sighs, visibly annoyed by my shocked reaction.
"I can't go into detail, and you know that, Elene," she says, raising an eyebrow in warning. "Client confidentiality. All you need to know is that he's no longer coming here and you no longer have exclusive rights to that room. You're free to return to your normal shifts at the club."
She pauses, clearing her throat. "The choice is up to you whether you want to be an angel or a devil. Devils are in higher demand, and the pay would be better."
I just sit there, staring at her as if she'd just given me my death sentence.
This can't be happening. What's going on? She must be lying. I shake my head in disbelief.
"Are you sure you're not confusing something?" I ask. "He didn't mention anything last night about no longer meeting with me, and-"
"Elene," she cuts me off. "I'm not confusing anything. I was contacted by his financial adviser today."
"So, you didn't speak to him directly?" I prod, my heart racing with hope. "You didn't hear it directly from him? He never said that-"
"I may as well have heard it from him," she interrupts me again. "His adviser said he was speaking on Sir Grave's behalf."
She lets out a deep sigh, supporting herself on her elbows as she leans forward on her desk. "I don't know why this is so shocking to you. Clients come and go all the time, you of all people should know that."
Her eyes study mine, searching them for something I'm not willing to divulge. I know her gaze holds a warning, a silent reminder for me to remember my position. It's the same look I received from Sandi, the same look I've been giving friends when they were in danger of falling into the same trap I just have.
Never fall for a client. No matter what they do with or for you, no matter how intense and intimate the time is that you spend together — it's not real. None of it is real. They play their part just as much as you do. And when they fear things are getting out of hand, they leave.
That's what must have happened here. Damon and I have spent every single night together the past two weeks, he arranged and paid for me to be available only to him with an exclusive contract, something I've never done before. Things between us were wonderful, too wonderful. It was all too good to be true.
His sudden disappearance is proof of that.
I grit my teeth, pressing my lips together as I hold back the tears threatening to blind me. Shit, not in front of the madam. She can't see me cry like a rookie, like one of those dumb teenage girls who don't know the rules of the game. I'm a fucking pro at this. I know how things work here. I should have known better.
"So, what should I sign you up for?" Miss Barry asks coolly, seemingly oblivious to my inner turmoil.
I swallow hard, casting the painful thoughts aside so I can finish this conversation with her with my dignity still intact.
"Actually, I would like to take tonight off," I whisper, trying to play off a touch of shakine
ss in my voice as a dry throat.
She nods. "You weren't on the schedule tonight to begin with, so that won't pose a problem."
I throw her a quick smile, trying to express my gratitude without words, and rise quickly from my seat. I need to get out of here. Right the fuck now.
I turn on my heel, ready to dart toward the door, when she calls my name.
"Let me know your decision tomorrow," she says, as my eyes trail back over my shoulder. "We could really use another devil like you, Elene. Please think about it."
"I will," I promise, turning the doorknob and darting out of the room in one quick leap.
I lose my composure as soon as I’m away from Miss Barry's strict gaze. My hand flies up to my mouth, purposefully hiding half of my face as it contorts into an ugly cry that I don't want anyone to see.
I lower my gaze, hiding it behind my blonde waves. I hurry back to the dressing room, stopping myself from jogging, so as to not draw too much attention to myself. I can't stop the hot tears from spilling any longer, and I don't want to. I just want to be alone, hidden somewhere in the dark, where I can cry my eyes out.
I wish I could go up to our room, even though I know he's not coming tonight. It would comfort me in a way that nothing else can right now. It's the closest thing I have to him, the only memory. Our sanctuary. A simple, black room, cushioned in tufted walls and black velvet curtains.
My heart breaks for the girl I used to be just a day ago. A girl full of joy and hope for something she never thought attainable.
And now it's gone. Because that girl was just like the rookies, stupid and naive.
My eyes catch the entrance located near the main guest area, as I make my way down the dark hallway. Soft music and the mumble of voices pervade my solitude, revealing the superficial world I was once a part of.
