Despite herself, she gasped. His sultry words affected her as if he’d touched her. She’d had the upper hand ever so briefly, but in just one sentence he’d taken it back. His grin was knowing. The man had a wicked way about him, and he knew it.
Quickly enough to give her whiplash, he straightened and turned back into the sturdy, serious politician. And he moved away from her. He extended his hand, and she shook it; again, someone took their photo. “I’ll see you tonight,” he promised, before backing away from her, disappearing into the crowd and allowing her to breathe again.
Gordon, her campaign manager, came up behind her. “Only twenty minutes left,” he said. “We should also get together tonight to go over new strategies based on what we learned from people today. What do you think?”
Jessica snapped herself free of Rafael’s trance. “Um, tonight?” she stammered. “That doesn’t work for me. I have another meeting.”
Jessica didn’t know what would happen when she arrived at Di Terrestres, but she knew that whatever did would change everything between her and her political rival. While she was apprehensive, part of her was also excited to see Rafael again, and to see what Di Terrestres was really all about.
This was her opportunity. There was nothing wrong with checking it out. The plan that formed in her head was twofold. She could see him again to make sure that he wouldn’t go back on his word to reveal her secret. But that wasn’t it. Her entire body burned at the thought of the kiss, and she knew that it shouldn’t happen again, but there was absolutely no telling that to her libido. She couldn’t help but do the mental math of how many days it’d been since she’d had sex, and she lost count. Jessica was a single woman, there was nothing wrong with sex, or seducing a man she wanted, and even though she shouldn’t, she wanted Rafael. Maybe she could have her cake and eat it, too.
CHAPTER FIVE
LATER THAT EVENING, on the top floor of the BH, Rafael sat at his desk, trying with all his power to focus on work, while his friends, the rest of the members of The Brotherhood, all occupied their usual table on the bottom floor at Di Terrestres. For what must have been the hundredth time in the past hour, he looked at his watch. The minute hand crawled in its circle. Counting the minutes, seconds, milliseconds until it was nine o’clock.
He flexed his fingers and turned back to his computer. His current task was to write a speech for a chamber of commerce event the next day, but all he could focus on was the possibility of Jessica showing up at Di Terrestres that night. In fact, he hadn’t even been able to concentrate on anything since seeing her that afternoon. She hadn’t promised him anything, but he knew that she would show up. Either way, he’d asked the club’s doorman to let him know if, when, she arrived.
His office phone rang. And he sighed in frustration.
“Want me to get that?” His assistant, Jillian, looked up from her spot at the large conference table. He’d had it brought into his office to seat his team when they met for their weekly campaign meetings. Jillian was busy scheduling that week’s appearances, and clearly wasn’t having as much trouble focusing as he was. An invaluable member of his team, she did everything he needed, and he wasn’t sure he could make do without her.
“No, it’s fine.” He picked up the phone. “Rafael Martinez,” he said, answering.
“For fuck’s sake, you’re still in your office?” Alex chided him.
He rolled his eyes. “The fact that you called my office and I responded should give you your answer to that.”
“Are you coming down?” he asked. “You abandoned me last night. We’re all here. Brett and Rebecca, too, just back from their honeymoon. Come down for a drink.”
Rafael wanted to go downstairs. He’d hadn’t made time for much fun as of late, but when he looked around at the papers that covered his desk, he didn’t know if he could. There were so many more tasks to complete before the next day. “I was hoping to be able to get away,” he conceded, not letting on that he’d made a date—no, not a date—with Jessica. He exhaled a deep breath. “But I’ve got a to-do list the length of my arm, and I still have a speech to write for tomorrow.”
“You work too hard, you know that, right?” Alex asked him.
“That’s rich, coming from you.” Rafael chuckled, knowing his friend worked as many hours as he did. But when Alex played, he played hard.
“If you don’t come down, we’re coming up,” Alex insisted, filling the silence. “You need to get out of the office for once.”
“As my campaign manager, shouldn’t you be making sure I stay on the straight and narrow?”
“The stick up your ass is already straight and narrow enough for both of us. And I’m off the clock, I’m telling you this as your friend.”
Rafael laughed. Alex always did have a way with persuasion. “Okay, fine. Give me thirty minutes. Then I’ll be down for one drink. I’ve got a meeting later.”
“With who?”
“None of your concern,” he said, before hanging up the phone. When he replaced the receiver in the cradle, he saw that Jillian was watching him.
“Go downstairs,” she told him. “You deserve a break. I can finish your speech.”
“No—” He tried to refuse.
“You need a break. Go see your friends.”
“Thanks.” He smiled gratefully. “But you know I like to write my own speeches. And I think you’ve got your hands full already.”
“Well, you know, I’m here to lighten your load.”
“And I greatly appreciate it. You’re a fantastic help.”
“You work too hard.”
“I’m starting to hear that quite a bit lately,” he muttered. “All right, I’m going to take off for the night. Maybe you should do the same. I’ll get up a little earlier, maybe skip the gym, and I’ll write my speech in the morning.”
“I’ll just finish up here, and then I’ll go home, too,” she told him.
“Okay,” he said standing. Maybe he did work too much, but he could also see that Jillian was tired. What he needed to remember was that his workload affected everyone on his team. They all needed a break. “You can let yourself out.” He headed for the door, and she waved to him.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Rafael got into the private elevator that took him from the top floor to the ground floor, where Di Terrestres was located. When the doors opened again, he stepped onto the floor of the club. Rafael looked around, pleased with the number of people who had come by on a Monday night.
The bar took up one entire wall, and world-class mixologists served only the finest of libations. Lush, high-backed booths, banquets and plush couches lined the far wall, and high-and low-top tables were scattered throughout the large room. At the center was a large floor, sometimes used as a dance floor, but mostly used as a stage for the nightly erotically charged shows. Circling the room were beautiful hostesses in short gold dresses, taking drink orders, bringing food and cigars, and arranging special, private accommodations for guests, if needed. On a lower floor were the secret exhibition and demonstration rooms, available only to the most important and discreet clients to explore their secret desires. But the best part of the club, as far as Rafael was concerned, were the luxury bedroom suites for those needing a place to crash for the night, or a little extra privacy. They were outfitted for anything a discerning customer might desire. All they had to do was speak to one of the club’s concierges and tell them what they needed, and as long as it was safe, consenting and within reason, it would be supplied for a price. Despite being open for only a couple years, Di Terrestres was already the group’s most profitable venture, and had heavily padded all of their bank accounts.
Rafael walked farther into the club and looked around. He quickly found his friends Alex, Alana, Gabe, Brett and Brett’s new wife, Rebecca. The Brotherhood. It was a name they’d slyly given themselves, a nod of the hat t
o the secret societies that many rich and powerful men belonged to. But ironically, it was Alana who had come up with the name one night as a joke, and much to her dismay, it had stuck.
Taking in the room with a sweep of his head, he saw many faces, some personally familiar, others well-known in the public eye. But they all had in common a need for the privacy that existed at Di Terrestres, to live their lives without judgment or the threat of having their kinks and desires made public. While outsiders knew about the club, not many were invited in, and even fewer actually knew what happened behind its closed doors. There were rumors, of course, and suppositions, but thankfully, no one was talking. Guests had to be vetted by the owners—himself and his four friends.
Rolling up his sleeves, Rafael crossed the floor toward the elevated balcony where their regular table was found. The table gave them a full, unobstructed view of the goings-on of their dominion. His friends leaned back in their seats, nursing their drinks and taking in the sights, most likely reveling in the success of the full bar and their other enterprises. He climbed the staircase to their table and sat at the empty seat. Before he could turn his head around to signal a waitress for a drink, one placed a short glass on the table in front of him, which he knew contained his favorite high-end Scotch. “Thank you, Beth,” he said. Even though he wasn’t behind the staffing at Di Terrestres, that was Alana’s job, he tried to make a point of remembering the names and faces of each of the employees.
“No problem, Mr. Martinez.”
“That’s Mayor Martinez,” Gabe corrected her with a laugh, his words slurring slightly.
“You’re a pain in the ass, Gabe,” Alana said, rolling her eyes. “Don’t mind him, Beth.”
“I don’t,” she said, before turning her attention back to Gabe. “My mistake, Mr. Foster,” she said, raising a smart eyebrow at Gabe, putting him in his place.
“That’s Mr. Foster, Esquire,” he told her, with a smile, and they all shared a hearty laugh with Beth before she walked away, her hips swaying, which Gabe watched appreciatively. Rafael glanced around at his friends, whose spirits were high; judging by the empty glasses on the table, the party had long ago started without him.
They were a close-knit group who shared everything. Over time, they’d found each other and discovered they had a lot in common, and ambitious goals. He and Alex had been friends since childhood, when Alex had come to live with his family. They’d met Brett in grade school, then Gabe and Alana in their early twenties during college. Back then they’d been less inclined to party, and were more interested in entrepreneurship, building their portfolios, working hard to achieve their goals. After college, the group figured that they should join forces, develop their businesses and invest the profits in each other. Their current success was a collaborative effort, and Rafael knew he wouldn’t have gotten anywhere, in business or in politics, without them. They were his support system, and they kept each other sane when the work piled up. Which it did. Often.
Work was their priority, but that didn’t mean they didn’t know how to make room for fun. Especially now that they’d about made it in the business sphere. They were still young, rich, good-looking. When work was done for the day, no matter what the hour, they’d often cut loose at the club, unwind with drinks, conversation and often sex.
He took a sip of his Scotch.
“How’s the campaigning coming, Mayor?” Gabe asked.
“So far so good, but let’s not get too ahead of ourselves,” Rafael said. He wasn’t superstitious, but he didn’t want to tempt fate when it came to the upcoming election. “I’m not quite the mayor yet.”
“No, but you’re a shoo-in for it,” Gabe added. “Thompson basically handpicked you to be his successor.”
“Well, you know, that’s the funny thing about democracy. It’s generally up to the people to decide. Right now, I’m neck and neck with Jessica Morgan.” Under the table, Rafael clenched his fists, trying not to let on to the fact that just saying her name affected him in a physical way. “She’s completely got the female and the youth votes locked down.” He’d spent many hours with his team trying to figure it out. Admittedly, he had no idea how to break into the female demographic, outside of using his good looks and sex appeal, but he didn’t want to win like that.
“What’s her story, anyway?” Brett asked him.
“I don’t know, really. My PI didn’t find out anything about her,” he muttered into his glass, not liking that he was outright lying to his friends. He met Alex’s eyes over the rim of his glass, and he warned his friend not to say anything. Thankfully he didn’t.
He noticed when Alana and Rebecca exchanged a skeptical glance. “What wrong?”
“You had her investigated?” Alana asked, incredulous.
“It’s not a big deal. I can’t beat her if I don’t know what I’m up against.”
“Still, it sounds kind of shady.”
“Politics is shady, perhaps even more than business,” he told her. “Don’t be naive. This is how it’s done. I look into everyone I have dealings with. I like to get all the dirt up so there aren’t any surprises.”
“Everyone has dirt, though. Even you,” Alana reminded him, raising an eyebrow as she looked around the club. He’d hidden his ties to the club, and the rest of the businesses, of which he had an equal piece. His ownership in The Brotherhood’s operations was held in a blind trust, with the other members as trustees. It was morally ambiguous, of course, but completely legal. For all intents and purposes, on paper, he had nothing to do with the business, or the management of the combined assets. But as for Di Terrestres, he knew that his affiliation with the ownership of an erotic club would certainly affect his campaign, and political life. So he wasn’t officially on the books as an owner, just a guest with a VIP membership.
Rafael shrugged, unbothered by the women’s opinions of his actions. “I’m not worried.” Although, Jessica had somehow found out about his ownership, or so she’d let on. He checked his watch. Eight forty-five. He looked to the door. Either way, he’d find out in fifteen minutes.
“I don’t think you have to worry too much about Jessica Morgan, though. She doesn’t have the connections you have,” Alex told him. “You’re known in this city, you’ve been a part of the city council for what, ten years, since you got out of college. She came out of nowhere. It’ll work out for you. I’m confident.”
He wouldn’t admit it, but that was what scared Rafael the most—that she had come from nowhere and had already made huge advances in the opinion polls. It was unheard of, running for the top seat, being a virtual newcomer, with just two years of municipal government experience, but the fact that she was making such a huge impact was what made him uneasy. “It’s not that simple. I’ll worry about every aspect of the campaign until after the election when I’m settling into my new office.”
Jessica wasn’t a longtime politician. She wasn’t schooled like one. She was idealistic and legitimately wanted to help people, and he had to commend her for that. She had pipe dreams of making a difference but no real experience in the matters used to get things done.
The table grew quiet, and he drank from his glass and thought about Jessica. Just as he’d done every night, virtually every minute, since the start of his campaign. But now he knew her. Intimately. He’d kissed her, brought her to orgasm. And his blood stirred as he pictured her on the stage at Charlie’s, on his lap in the back of a car in the light of dawn. And he knew he’d affected her today at the student union event.
He blew out a breath and took another sip from his glass, and looked around at his friends. With the exception of Brett, who was whispering in Rebecca’s ear, the rest of them consulted the illuminated screens of the phones in their hands. Rafael didn’t mind. Everyone at the table understood they weren’t being inconsiderate. They were never truly off the clock. Even when they were at Di Terrestres, work never stopped for them. The Brotherhood
always had something going on, real estate to develop, deals to make, restaurants and charity organizations to run, a campaign to win.
The lights of the club dimmed, and fire started from the elegant torches on the wall, casting the room in a flickering golden light. Most of the conversation quieted. It was almost nine, and it was the time at night when the mood in the club shifted. Things became less playful and took a serious turn. Couples and groups gathered closer, touching, kissing, extending foreplay, and many left for the suites upstairs or the demo rooms downstairs.
It had been a while since Rafael had taken advantage of the benefits of Di Terrestres. But in the muted, low light, he allowed himself to relax a little, as his gaze fixed on a nearby torch.
The fire, the heat, the sensuality made him think back to Jessica, and the way her touch, her brand burned within him. She was hot, fiery, and he knew that she would burn him deeply. It would be best to stay away from her, but he also knew he wouldn’t. He gulped down his Scotch and pulled at the collar of his shirt to cool himself. It didn’t work.
His gaze shifted to the door, and as if his desires had brought her into his presence, she appeared in the doorway. She’d shown up. Jessica was in his club.
CHAPTER SIX
JESSICA TOOK A deep breath as she signed the digital confidentiality contract on the doorman’s tablet, widening her eyes at the protections the club had in place, and she handed it back. Now sworn to secrecy, she again stood outside the dark curtain, shoring her confidence, trying to look cool, while she considered turning on her heel and leaving. But something kept her moving and, as she took a step, another attendant moved the curtain aside. Perhaps it was her stubbornness, but it was most likely the ache in her core. She wanted to pretend that she was there to tell Rafael to go fuck himself, to hold the fact that she also knew his secret over his head. But she knew that wasn’t it. There was something more primitive driving her. Something she couldn’t control. Something a woman felt for a man.
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