Keeping His Siren Part 1

by Kiersten Fay

  He was sitting at a booth with a slender red-head, a mug of dark liquid in his hand and a nearly empty plate of eggs in front of his companion. After the introductions, Ryder offered Naia a jovial thumbs up. “I gave him your message, word for word,” he said proudly. She had no doubt he’d done it with that same exuberant grin on his face, too.

  “Thanks,” she replied sarcastically, then muttered to Cortez. “Sorry about that.”

  His only response was a wry twist to his lips. Then he addressed a beautiful, petite female in the corner booth sitting with two others who were equally attractive. “Kenzi, after Naia eats she’ll need new clothing. Take her wherever she wants to go, but have her back before five.”

  Five? Did he think it was going to take all day to shop for clothing? With the paltry tip money still in her purse from her last shift at Dante’s, it would be a miracle if it took more than an hour, and that was if she was picky. Normally she would put most of her tips into the grocery budget for her and Cole, but unless Cortez was going to make her pay for breakfast, it seemed she’d have a little extra to spend.

  Kenzi smiled brightly at Cortez.

  As if she’d asked a question, Cortez lifted a negligent hand. “Fine. Take the Mercedes. You know where to find the keys.”

  Kenzi squealed with delight.

  Naia cleared her throat. “I don’t need an escort. And it will probably only take me an hour or two to pick up some outfits. Maybe a new pair of shoes.” She could drop off Goldie’s boots on the way, and explain about the unexpected death of her dress. Totally not my fault!

  “You should get more than that,” Cortez suggested. “Kenzi will help. She knows what I like and has access to my expense account.”

  The fact that burning jealousy was the first wave of emotion told her in some basic, primal way, she was already way too attached to the enigmatic man next to her. Later she’d try to figure out how that could possibly have had happened so quickly.

  Once the spike of irrational, seething, envy-filled hatred toward Kenzi abated, she registered the second part of his statement. His expense account? He was paying for her clothes?

  Her riotous emotions played a game of tug-of-war. Sure she could use a couple extra outfits, but how was his buying them any different than a stack of cash on the nightstand? To be fair, she’d misunderstood the reasoning for that cash. Still, this was more than just replacing a single dress. He was sending her out with a personal shopper and a six-hour time frame. How much was he expecting her to buy? Part of her rationalized that it was too much for her to accept while the other, destitute part got on her knees to beg, please. It’s just some new clothes. Please, please, please.

  A couple of the other employee’s mouths dropped, apparently working it out too. She got the impression that Cortez’s generous offer was not normal. Nor was his introducing strange women during breakfast.

  Done dropping jaws, Cortez turned to leave.

  “Wait a second,” she said, shaking her head.

  Before the door closed behind him, he waved at her with the back of his hand, “Have fun.” Then he was gone and she was alone in a room full of strangers still staring at her like she’d just planted a flag in the ground and declared this shall now be mine.

  Her gaze landed on Kenzi’s kind smile.

  “We eat buffet style,” Kenzi said, pointing to the table packed with breakfast foods. “Grab a plate and come sit.” She patted the space next to her.

  If her tummy wasn’t gnawing for that sweet syrupy scent, she might have run after Cortez to refuse his offer, but a moment alone with his employees so soon was too much to pass up. If there was anyone who knew if something untoward was going on around here, it would be one of them. She had better make nice, quick.

  After packing a plate with a couple slices of French toast and syrup and, oh, yes, butter, she sidled in next to Kenzi.

  “Hi, I’m Kenzi.” There was an upbeat, bubbly quality to Kenzi that showed in every aspect of her character, from her bright hazel eyes, to her engaging smile, and pleasant voice. It made Naia feel instantly welcome.

  “Naia,” she said, offering her name in return. She noticed a couple people at the other table still slanting glances at her. “I have to ask. Is my presence here unusual?”

  The question caused Kenzi to glance around as well, catching the curious gazes of others. Then she smiled at Naia. “I guess you are a bit of a surprise. We haven’t seen the boss man take a liking to someone so quickly. They want to know what your secret is. You have no idea how many women…and men….have tried to bag that man. I heard you even got invited to the roof.”

  “Is that weird?”

  “Weird? No. A miracle…?” At Naia’s expression, she explained, “Except when there’s a special request to use that space, it’s practically his private sanctuary.”

  Naia didn’t know what to say. The place was off limits to employees but she was dragged up there on day one? More evidence that he’d never hire her? Why was Cortez giving her this special treatment? A queasy feeling had her pushing her plate away. Since she’d met him, he’d made her feel like a princess swept up in her very own fairytale…but fairytales were nothing but the fanciful musings of the lonely and broken hearted. They never came true. Something else was going on here. The question was what.

  After breakfast, Kenzi led her to a neatly kept office. The nameplate read Cortez. This was his office.

  Kenzi crossed to a key cabinet, but found it locked. “Damn, I forgot. I have to go sign out the Mercedes so I can get the key. Be right back.”

  When she was gone, Naia jumped into action, checking a nearby filing cabinet first. There were mostly employee dossiers. She checked a few, but found them to be standard, and replaced them exactly as they were. Next, she took the seat behind his desk to snoop through his drawers. The top one held office supplies: pens, pencils, paper clips, a stapler. All very normal. The second drawer was slightly larger and held three binders. She pulled one out and flipped through it, finding a lineup of shows scheduled six months out and a roster of potential stand-ins. The second binder seemed to be his personal itinerary. Everything for the next week had been crossed out. The third binder was an employee schedule with notes for requested time off.

  In a third drawer, she found a list of vendors along with pricing, quantities, and delivery dates that didn’t mean much to her, but she scanned it closer for any evidence of drug smuggling or something equally abhorrent. As if he’d be careless enough to mark in big red letters: Illegal Sex Trafficking Enterprise, Thursdays at Five.

  The sounds of someone approaching had her stuffing the binders back in place and closing the doors. She had just extracted herself from behind the desk when Kenzi waltzed in.

  “Ready for some fun?” She crossed to unlock the key cabinet and then claim the key labeled Mercedes, Red. There was more than one Mercedes listed.

  Kenzi led her to an underground parking lot toward a cherry red convertible with the top down. Kenzi’s excitement was palpable as she slid into the driver’s seat. A twist of the key, and the engine purred to life.

  Slipping into the passenger seat, Naia just managed to lock her seatbelt in place as the car lurched out of the parking space. The tires squealed before the engine punched them forward. Kenzi let out a whoop as she jetted up a wide ramp. Daylight blinded Naia for a moment before her eyes adjusted. They were already pulling onto the road. She noticed her nails were digging into her seat’s armrest.

  Kenzi laughed, slowing the car to a reasonable speed. “Sorry. I couldn’t resist. This baby has some serious kick. So, tell me about yourself, Naia, and how you managed to snag the attention of the most eligible bachelor in all the land.”

  Naia was still trying to get her heart rate back to normal. “I was just looking for a job.” She caught the sight of Ever Nights in the side mirror, shrinking into the distance as they sped away.

  Kenzi gave her a pitying look. “A job, huh? Too bad. What were you looking to do?”


  “Sing. Why too bad?”

  “Because Cortez doesn’t hire anyone he’s, uh, dated. Though I don’t suppose that’s the right word for it. At least not where he’s concerned. So you’re a singer. What do you sing?”

  “A mix of things. Pop mostly. You’re saying he won’t ever hire me now that we’ve…started seeing each other?” He’d said as much, though Naia was still holding on to a shred of hope.

  “Sorry,” Kenzi replied as if she were apologizing for a taking the last dinner roll instead of delivering a devastating blow. Naia hadn’t been counting on a job merely for financial purposes, though that would have been a bonus. She needed to sing. Already she was feeling the itch, like a tickle in her throat. At least her energy wasn’t waning. Yet. There was time for her to figure something out while she was undercover. Maybe she could slip away and grab a shift at Dante’s.

  “He doesn’t date anyone that works for him either,” Kenzi went on. “I don’t know why. I think he’s been burned once too many. Or maybe he doesn’t want to bee seen as playing favorites. A lot of girls go after guys like him to climb the ladder, you know. Or for notoriety. Or money.” It was barely perceptible, but there was a tinge of something in her voice. A question? An accusation?

  “I can imagine,” Naia said. She wasn’t about to try and convince Kenzi of her innocence on those matters. It wasn’t like she’d intended to finagle herself into Cortez’s bed. In fact, now that she thought about it, the situation she’d gotten herself into would likely work against her. With everyone’s attention on the new girl who’d managed to beguile the boss, her task would be that much harder. But the fact remained, she was using him.

  “So how do you like working at Ever Nights?” she asked Kenzi, partly to change the subject, partly to gather information.

  “It’s great.” The statement rang of truth. “I coordinate most of the dances. Burlesque,” she clarified. “I’m on salary, so the tips are icing, and everything’s fair, split equally among the performers and stagehands, so there’s no animosity like some other places.”

  Naia had seen so many fights over cash on stage that hadn’t been fully collected before the next act started. Girls on their knees scrambling for change.

  “Plus we get full control over what we do. Some girls bare it all while others just perform beautiful dances. There’s no obligation to service the fanged clients, but the pay is so tempting, so most of us do.”

  Naia blinked. Service?

  “Plus, yowza! Am I right? You ever been on the dinner menu?” She faux fanned herself. “It’s not exactly a chore, is it? It’ll make a girl crack a marble, if you know what I mean.”

  She didn’t, but she thought she might want to.

  Kenzi pulled onto a highway with a wicked grin. “Now, hold onto your seat.” The car went turbo and momentarily sucked the oxygen out of Naia’s lungs. It took her a couple of breaths to get used to the frantic airflow, but when she did, she let out a jubilant laugh. Kenzi’s smile turned devilish and she switched to another gear.

  As they flew down the highway at what had to be dangerous speeds, Kenzi’s words inspired images of Cortez taking her neck with his succulent mouth as he did sinful things to her body. She was still mulling the idea over twenty minutes later when they pulled up to La Parfait, a top of the line boutique. The place had valet parking for crying out loud!

  “Surely there’s a less expensive place we could go.”

  Kenzi handed the keys to an attendant. “Of course there is, but why on Earth would we go anywhere else. Everything we need is right here. Come, let’s get high on shopping.”

  Chapter 14

  Kenzi was getting high; Naia was getting ill.

  While Kenzi combed through clothing racks in search of her next fix, Naia was mentally tallying the cost of everything she’d piled in their personal dressing room. The room was comfortably sized, lined with mirrors, soft lighting, and a mix of floral scents that were probably pumped in like a drug, lulling clients into a relaxed state of consumerism. There was also a small seating area with a luxurious cabriole sofa.

  They’d been handed flutes of Champagne while they’d settled in. An attendant had already asked her twice if she needed a refill. When Kenzi returned with yet another armful of overpriced clothing, she took the attendant up on that offer, jostling her empty glass for emphasis.

  From her stack, Kenzi pulled out a blue sheath dress and held it up to her own body, twisting to admire it in the mirror. “Have you found anything you like?”

  Naia glanced at her much smaller selection. Two blouses, a pair of form hugging jeans, and one replacement dress, intended for Goldie, all of which cost more than three months’ rent.

  Kenzi gazed at her choices in mock horror. “Is that all you’re getting?”

  Naia shrugged. “These prices are too much.”

  “Blasphemy!” Kenzi went back to rifling through her stash, yanking free a deep maroon wrap dress. “Try this on.”

  Naia sighed, doing as requested. They’d been here three hours already, and no matter what protest she might come out with, Kenzi’s fun would not be denied.

  Once the dress was on, Kenzi was at the ready with a pair of flesh colored heels and a sparkling diamond-studded necklace that Naia hoped was costume jewelry. She peeked at the price tag and her stomach did a flip. Not costume jewelry!

  She went to take it off, but Kenzi pulled her in front of a mirror, and they both gaped.

  “That’s the one.” At Naia’s look, she clarified, “That’s the dress you’ll wear tonight.”

  Apparently Cortez had something planned later. He’d called her brand new cell phone, which he’d had couriered over, to let her know he had a surprise in store. He wouldn’t say what, just that he was taking her somewhere. Then he’d told her Cole had received a similar phone, and the number was programmed into hers.

  After hanging up in a daze, she’d tried the number to verify. Cole answered with a brusque, “I hope you know what you’re doing with this guy.” It seemed a strange vampire dropping off a cellphone so he could “keep in touch with his sister” had been somewhat alarming to her baby brother.

  She didn’t admit to Cole that she might very well be in over her head. New clothes and now a personal cell? That seemed a little much for a quick fling. Or maybe Cortez was just so wealthy that the extravagance didn’t even register.

  Then Cole lectured her about guys, gifts, and expectations. He finished with, “I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”

  She wasn’t the one with a broken finger. She could manage a little heartache if it saved Cole from more run-ins with the twins. All he’d managed was to set her resolve. Then he finished with a muttered, “They say he can read minds.”

  “Who says?”

  “Goldie. A few of the others have heard it suggested as well.”

  “That’s ridiculous.” If he could read minds, he would have kicked her out of his club the day they met. Instead, he’d invited her back, seduced her, and screwed her ever-loving brains out.

  “I don’t know if it’s true or not,” Cole continued. “Just please be careful.”

  “I will.” Reading minds? Right. And I can harness the power of unicorn farts.

  His interaction with Kenzi at breakfast suddenly cut into her thoughts. Kenzi hadn’t said a word, but Cortez had known what she’d wanted. That could be attributed to working closely together for many years. Naia often knew what Cole was thinking before he spoke his thoughts aloud. It inevitably happened when people got close to one another.

  As she put the phone away, Kenzi hollered for the attendant. “Wrap it all up and put it in the car.” She indicated the dress Naia still wore. “And ring this up, too. She’ll be wearing it out.”

  With that, a small army descended on the dressing room, packing up their purchases and cashing them out in a matter of minutes. Naia almost fainted at the total, though most of the damage was done by Kenzi.

  She nearly sighed in relief when it was over and
they were tucked back in the convertible. Until Kenzi slammed the gearshift into drive and exclaimed, “Now to the salon!”

  That was when the real torture began by a team of beauticians lead by a flamboyant man named Javier with a Spanish accent who probably went through more lipstick and hair products than all the ladies at Dante’s combined. According to him, she needed a cut and color, because her “ends were split” and her look “needed updating.” (His hair was swept up in an exaggerated style from a bygone era.) He snippily informed her that her nails were “wrecked” and she clearly “gnawed on them constantly.” (His nails were black, long, and sharpened like daggers.) Oh, and her unibrow—she did NOT have a unibrow—required “mowing.” He gleefully tweezed her like a sadist until the pain made her want to slap a bitch.

  The pedicure was nice, until the pedicurist decided the pads of her feet needed a heavy duty scrubbing, and then it was death by tickle.

  By the time they were finished with her, she was exhausted. Conversely, Kenzi, who’d undergone the same treatment, seemed relaxed. Amazing.

  “Wasn’t that wonderful,” she sighed.

  Yeah, if by wonderful she meant emotionally scarring.

  Javier swept into the room. “You are like shiny new pennies, no? My little chicklings, I give birth to you and send you off into the world. Go now, fly free. Break the hearts, yeah?”

  Kenzi and Javier air-kissed each other’s cheeks. “You’re the best, Javier,” Kenzi said.

  “I know this.” He gave a theatrical wave of his hand. “When are you going to send my boyfriend to me? Tell him I give him special massage.” He winked.

  “You know Cortez doesn’t swing that way.”

  “He would when I get done with him. Once you go Spanish, your other preferences vanish.”

  Naia laughed at that. Now that he wasn’t having her tortured, she could actually find his colorful personality endearing. She wasn’t at all surprised that he had a crush on Cortez. The man was sex on a stick, after all.