by Susan Arden
“No. It was a team effort.” She fingered the satiny material of the cape with her fingers, and tried for a smile with some aplomb.
“Brandon isn’t here tonight,” he said, his brows scrunched together. He stepped in front of her. It would come as a shock, the real reason she had come. She couldn’t tell him she was here collecting information, and she didn’t enjoy having him think she was here to have fun without Brandon.
“Yes. I know. I’m here for a drink and to unwind,” she said effortlessly. My, oh my. Aren’t I becoming a fast and easy liar?
“Oh,” he mumbled, and his eyes lowered from her face and landed at her throat. Marty met her gaze and shook his head, clearly confused. “Okeydokey. Enjoy yourself.”
Mia nodded. “Don’t work too hard.”
She walked forward, stalling at the entryway into the bar, then decided it was now or never to take another solo flight into the club. She inhaled, tracing her fingers over the paneled wall before she took a step forward. There were members all around and she fell in line, trailing behind an ordinary looking couple.
“Looks like my luck just changed. Excuse me,” a gentleman said to her, exiting the bar. He clasped her outstretched hand, lightly caressing her fingers and she stiffened.
Unsure of what to do, Mia responded. “May I help you?”
The stranger’s eyes traced from her face downward, then immediately rebounded. “Delicious. But you’re taken aren’t you, kitten?”
She tugged her hand free, touched her collar, and notched up her chin. “Without question.”
He bowed and Mia smiled, but didn’t have a second to relax. She had to think fast to sidestep a small group of boisterous women who came barreling forward. The main lounge was hopping, and she scanned the bar for an open seat until Sam spotted her.
“Right here.” He mouthed and motioned to her.
She smiled, relaxing somewhat, and took the seat he offered. “Phew. Thanks. Place is busy.”
“Looks to be one of those nights.” Sam shrugged, tossing up a bottle of liquor into the air that he effortlessly caught, and began mixing a drink. “What will you have? I can open a bottle of Cachè. Same wine from the other night.”
“No way. If I drank a whole bottle, I’d be under the table. May I order just one glass?”
Sam winked. “I was given strict instructions where you’re concerned. Anything you want. So go easy on me if you’re into colorful shots.”
“Oh, no. I have to drive. One glass of white wine is my limit.”
She idly let her attention wander across the room, and almost gasped out loud. There was Beau. She hadn’t seen him since he’d announced his intention to marry another woman. He was still put together in that conservative, cardboard cutout way: a man of medium build with hair greying at the temples. But his banker good looks no longer fascinated her. He had his arm around a long, leggy blonde, and she doubted the woman was his high school sweetheart. Definitely not, when she turned around and Mia noticed her fetish dress, with the cutout that exposed her chest. Beau ran his hands over the woman’s body and she giggled, throwing her head back.
“Oh, naughty boy,” the woman said loudly.
Mia rolled her eyes. She glanced around, wondering if anyone else was annoyed by the brash display, which bordered on cheap.
But cheap could get a whole lot cheaper. She clutched the edge of the bar, watching Beau push the woman down to her knees. He held on to the woman’s shoulders until she knelt in front of him.
Mia choked back her indignation. That’s not how things were done around here. She flashed Sam a look and he noticed her expression.
“Everything all right?” he asked, putting the glass of wine in front of her.
“Is that permissible?” She slanted her head toward the corner.
“I’ll take care of it.” With his face tense, Sam picked up his walkie-talkie, but she couldn’t hear what he said.
Mia’s stomach churned. She felt sick at having observed the beginning of Beau’s uncouth public display. She didn’t know if he’d actually done more than make the woman kneel. Maybe it was some sort of sub test. She swung her glance over her shoulder and rapidly closed her eyes. From the way he moved the woman’s head up and down in front of his hips, it wasn’t a game, but looked like the real thing. She felt hot, then cold. Not out of jealousy, but out anger for another sampling of his hypocrisy. What was he doing here? It wasn’t guest night and she prayed he wasn’t actually a member of the club.
Two security men approached Beau and whispered something in his ear. He nodded and seemed to gather himself, and Mia breathed out a sigh of relief. He had his back to her the whole time. The security guards reached down and assisted the woman to her feet. Beau just stood there and laughed to the men on either side of him. From the expression on the woman’s face, whatever he’d said, she didn’t find humorous.
Without any warning, Beau turned toward the bar and there she sat staring a hole in his face. Her lungs stopped working, and she willed herself not to wince.
It took every iota of stamina and will to keep her face turned toward him, especially when his focus appeared to target her. She gripped her seat, unprepared to deal with him as her heartbeat tripped unsteadily in her chest.
Wait! She wasn’t recognizable thanks to Brandon directions—Beau couldn’t know it was her. Tonight she’d worn her hair in a tight bun, and with the mask covering two-thirds of her face, and along with the cape, he’d have a hard time placing her if she kept her distance. When he looked over to one of the men next to him, she calmly turned away.
Mia felt a tap on her shoulder and was grateful to have a diversion. Mr. Penrose smiled down at her. “I have a phone call waiting for you. If you’d care to follow me?”
“My God, your timing is perfect.”
“Is someone bothering you?” He looked down at her, then to either side.
“No. I’m fine.” Her jumbled thoughts weren’t helping her to come up with an on-the-spot excuse. “I imagine there’s only one person who’d like to speak to me.”
Mr. Penrose laughed. “No joke. I guess it’s pretty obvious who’d have me come and find you. He’s definitely on edge.”
She slid off the stool and glanced up at him. “What do you mean?”
“Little lady,” he smothered another chuckle, “I haven’t seen Brandon this put out in years.”
“Mr. Penrose—”
“That’s Penrose, no mister. Or just Pen to my friends.” He smiled broadly, seeming to enjoy the opportunity to share his observation, and waited on her to respond.
“Penrose…” she faltered, confused about him commenting on her and Brandon, especially when he knew she was here to do research. Not seduce the Dom. His walkie-talkie chirped and he held it to his ear, leading her down the hall.
They came to the stairs. “You can use his office. It’s the second door on the left.” Penrose spoke to the security at the stairs and relayed that she’d be up there with his permission.
She smiled at the men, then thanked Penrose before she scaled the stairs with the cell in her hand, her heart hammering faster and faster with each step she took. At the landing, she lifted the phone to her ear. “Hello?”
“I miss you.” Brandon’s deep voice surrounded her. She gripped the phone tightly, leaning into the wall, her knees suddenly weak.
“I miss you, too,” she whispered. He softly laughed and she closed her eyes, imagining he was right next to her.
“Mia, do you have any idea to what extent you torment me?” He had that alpha male tone in his voice, and she flashed open her eyes. “We need to define when you’ll have your phone on. As far as I’m concerned, that would be every minute, but I doubt it would be practical.”
“I don’t think practical comes to mind, when thinking about you and me.” She glanced around and noted she could still hear the music and voices from below. They might be able to hear her as well, and she pushed off the wall, searching for his office.
“What are you wearing?” he asked, his voice strained.
“Long and flowing and wine-colored. Sound familiar?”
“And underneath?”
“Grey wool skirt and a pink cotton blouse. Not very sexy. Thank you for the cloak. It works like magic.”
“Meaning?”
“I feel invisible when I’m wearing it. Maybe I can walk through a wall.”
He snorted. “I doubt you’d ever be even close to invisible. I heard things heated up over there.”
Of course he would hear. She swallowed and brushed aside the idea of telling him it was her ex who’d violated the house rule of 'get a room.’
“Well, you know how people can get…your staff took care of it without anyone raising a stink. Very classy.”
“Sorry about the show. It’s not what we like to offer.” His voice turned super serious. “Are you all right?”
“Don’t worry about me. I’m more than aware it’s not the norm,” she replied, her stomach twisting and feeling like battery acid had seeped inside her body. She took a deep breath and tried to relax.
“Penrose will get the member’s name, and this will be the last time he shows his face there.” His voice rose.
“Please, don’t do anything rash.” She thought of Beau and his ability to seek revenge. For bankers and supposed Christians, his tight-knit family relished closing ranks and putting the squeeze on anyone who displeased them. To her, they represented the worst example of ignorant bullies.
She inhaled and refused to think more about her ex and his idiotic life, personality, and family. “Tell me about your day. Rancher Brandon.”
“It was productive, and then I had to sit down with my brothers, which is a chore.”
“Brothers?” She didn’t know much about him, except that he came from a large family. His sister was in college and there were lots of them around where he lived. “How many do you have?”
“Four brothers and one sister, and they’re all full of it.” He laughed. “We’re all pretty close.”
“Where are you in the lineup?”
She turned the knob to the door and pushed in. His office appeared organized from the doorway. Desk, chair, shelves, area rug; nothing out of place. Tidy stacks of documents clipped together on the desk. As she turned to shut the door, she stumbled over her own feet. A deep red dress hung on a hook behind the door. Without thinking, she stroked her fingers down the butter-soft leather and her eyes widened at the places where material was strategically missing. Oh. My. God. This wasn’t some cheap fetish dress, but a costly number.
She refocused on the cell phone, but Brandon wasn’t talking. “Hello?” she said, confused.
“Fourth from the top,” he said. “What about you?”
“Me? Um. One sister. Probably about the same age as yours. She’s the one who deals with my dad, while at the same time pushing all of his buttons.”
She was rambling, nervously holding the phone sandwiched between her cheek and shoulder while she lifted the hanger from the door. The dress was tiny, except for the chest area. Replacing the hanger on the door hook, she thought how substantially different this dress was from the one the woman downstairs was wearing. Serious money had been spent on this dress. More risqué than anything she’d ever worn. The red leather dress she’d sported before was on the cusp of being very provocative, but this dress was a whole different flavor of expensive, wicked, and wild.
“Where are you?” Brandon asked out of the blue.
“Upstairs. In the hall. Penrose said to use your office, but I couldn’t wait to talk to you.” She rolled her eyes. If she was going to avoid being a total liar, she could at least step back into the hall. Opening the door, she gasped. “Excuse me,” she said, cupping the phone. A tall brunette stood on the other side. “Yes?”
The woman gave her the once over. “Are you on staff here now?”
“No. Just using the office for an important call.”
“Then never mind.” The woman pushed through the doorway and shot Mia a look over her shoulder, raising her eyebrow as if issuing a challenge to try and stop her from entering the office. Mia exited and turned around in the narrow hall. She and the woman stood there for a breath before the woman shook her head and moved further inside. Without wasting time the door closed with a resounding Bam!
Mia flinched, stepping backward, and bumped her head against the opposite wall. “Ouch.”
“What is going on?” Brandon demanded.
She rubbed the back of her head and whispered, “Someone…a woman just went into your office.”
“Who?” he asked, his voice sinking low. “Club staff?”
The woman was dressed in faded jeans, a low-cut blouse and a leather jacket. “I don’t think so. Should I get Penrose?”
“No. I’ll phone him.”
“Look, I’ll stick around until he comes, then I think I’m going to leave. It’s been a pretty busy night. I don’t know how much of this experience I can use for my project. It’s like being at a different place when you’re not here.”
“I can tell. Hold on. I’m putting you on speaker, so I can text and talk.” His voice sounded like he was inside a stadium. “I just alerted Pen. Whoever is up there with you had to know our security.”
“Whoever she is, she got my attention.” Mia glanced at the shut office door again. In that kickass, big-girl-panty-wearing-woman kind of way. She wasn’t going to delve into those details. He’d said it all. The staff knew her, so he probably did as well. Footsteps tramped loudly up the stairs and Penrose appeared with a pair of bouncers. Tonight, Brandon’s partner appeared frazzled, but why not? “Hold on. Penrose is coming upstairs,” Mia said.
“It sounds like a zoo,” Brandon growled on the other end.
“Mia, excuse us,” Penrose said, flanked by the burly bouncers. “You should probably go downstairs.”
“All right.” She began walking toward the back stairs and stopped in the shadows. She could hear the woman’s raised voice, cursing Penrose up one wall and down the next. “Brandon?” Mia asked.
“I heard. I’m sorry. One night away, and it’s descended into chaos over there.”
“Hey, I’ll talk to you later.” She wanted to ask just who that demanding woman was and what she meant to Brandon. But she didn’t have the heart, not when he was there and she was here.
“Baby, I hope so,” Brandon said, his tone flat. He had to be upset, if not frustrated, without knowing exactly what the heck was going on. She hung up and pushed the phone into her skirt pocket as a scuffle erupted in the hall.
The door slammed open and one of the bouncers stepped back and snapped at the tall brunette, “Don’t even think about it. That way.”
“Don’t touch me! I’m not taking anything that isn’t mine,” the woman shrieked, carrying out a box balanced on her hip, with the red dress flung over the top.
“Jesus.” Penrose said. “You want to be hauled out of here in cuffs? Keep your voice down!”
“Call the fucking police! Call the newspapers. I don’t care. I’ll tell them what I know about you and this secretive joint. Brandon doesn’t know what you’ve done, but I do. You’re maxed out on your credit. Honey, I talk to your ex-wife plenty, and she’ll own this place before too long!”
She saw Penrose jerk the woman by the arm. “Val, you’ll keep that gold-digger mouth of yours shut. You’re one to talk. Creditors have been calling here every day, wanting to find you. Some dude showed up here last week, asking about you, and I doubt it had anything to do with selling Girl Scout cookies.”
“I’m not scared. Take from Peter to pay Paul. Sound familiar?” she snorted. “And just for your information, I got myself squared. Tell Brandon, this time I did the screwing. All my worries are over. Unlike you and this small-time shithole.”
“You’re a real piece of work.” Penrose pushed her away from him. “Escort this lady to the back exit. Then throw her out.”
Mia gasped softly. No one turned arou
nd, but she held off exiting the club, not wanting to cross paths with the security staff, or that woman.
OUTSIDE in the parking lot, the snap of cold air hitting Mia’s face made her hug the side of the building for a moment to catch her breath. She reached into the pocket of the cloak for her keys. She hadn’t brought a purse with her tonight, and thank goodness. She couldn’t go back into the S & L. Not without Brandon.
Oh God! It was worse than a soap opera. Any charm the club might have held for her vanished. She stepped away from the building and a burst of arctic wind whipped the edges of the cloak. A few strands of loose hair tangled over her face and across her eyes. She clawed at her cheeks, desperate to cross the parking lot without drawing attention to herself by slipping on the ice. No sooner had she thought about her ability to remain upright, than she felt her foot slide out from under her. Just a few inches, but enough to upset her balance, and she instinctively flapped her arms. She ended up skidding into the side of a car, with her heart pounding in her chest. On top of everything else that had happened tonight, this was the cherry on a sundae of horrible.
For a few long seconds, she stood with her palms pressed against icy-cold hood of the car, gauging the distance she still had to go until she reached her own car. The sound of raucous voices erupted from the other side of the alley. She’d been wrong. Horrible had so many more shades of awful. She recognized Beau’s slurred voice, along with two others she didn't know. Mia glanced back toward the alleyway, and a jolt of horror shot through her. The sight of Beau’s weaving shadow preceded his actual arrival in to the lot. Pushing the thought of falling from her mind, she spun around and locked her eyes on her car, parked up ahead on an incline.
“Damn!” she swore to herself, haphazardly navigating over a sheet of ice.
She couldn’t find a place to step without her feet sliding backward. Figures, I’d need a Sherpa. Gripping the door handle of another car, she hoisted herself across the icy pavement, not an easy feat with her pulse racing and her mind spinning.
She started to scissor her legs, doing her best impression of ice-skating in heels. Her senses were on high alert with another round of jeering laughter that echoed off the buildings and she cringed as though Beau were right behind her. His voice grew louder as he recounted in detail what it was like to have sex in public.
