Three Sweet Nothings (Blindfold Club #5)

by Nikki Sloane

  “Didn’t say I was better than you. I kept my mouth shut too long. Court deserves a man who ain’t gonna cheat on her every chance he gets.”

  Tariq scoffed loudly. “Fuck you, you don’t know what it’s like. I’m getting it from all sides. Sometimes I just gotta get out and be me.”

  “Yeah? Lemme help you.” Julius’s tone was as dark as his expression. “Get out of my club, and don’t fucking come back.”

  Disbelief ran over Tariq’s face. “Her? You gonna pick her, over me?” He slapped his palm to his chest. “We played ball together. You and the whole D line were my brothers.”

  Julius shook his head. “You and me . . . We’re not those guys no more. Go, Tariq, before I make you.”

  Tariq’s sneer was ugly. “Like you could.”

  “By myself, nah, maybe not. But I’m not alone. Guess you didn’t notice the enormous white boy when you came in.”

  The sneer slid away, and although Tariq tried to disguise it, he seemed to realize he was outnumbered. His narrow gaze swung from Julius to the exit, and then landed on me. My pulse roared, but I steeled myself.

  He cleared his throat and spat on the ground, like the whole situation left a bitter taste in his mouth. “Fuck you all, and fuck this bullshit.”

  Julius’s large hands curled into fists at the disrespect, but he stayed silent as his former teammate stalked down the hall, and Tariq disappeared into the payment room.

  I watched my friend’s shoulders sag as he spoke into his earpiece and called for Nina to report to room six, most likely to assist Tariq’s girl, and his sad eyes focused on me. “What are you doing here?”

  “I asked him,” Joseph said. “I’m sorry I didn’t mention it. If I’d known you were taking clients, we would’ve met Mr. Dufrane somewhere else.”

  Julius waved the statement off. “Nah, you didn’t do anything wrong. I forgot you were coming.” He turned and headed up the stairs, getting us to follow. His voice boomed on the narrow, steep staircase. “I shoulda never told him about this place. Shoulda turned him away.”

  We trailed behind him into his office, and as he sat in his chair, he looked defeated.

  “I was the one,” Joseph said, “who gave him membership, so you could say that’s on me.” His expression was plain. “But it isn’t. Half the members here are married. A guy like Crawford? He’s getting ass somewhere on top of this place, guaranteed.”

  Julius’s gaze darted away, staring off vacantly. So, he already knew that for a fact.

  “It’s no one’s fault Crawford’s a piece of shit,” Joseph added, “except his own.”

  “Does Courtney know?” I asked. “How he’s been cheating on her?” She’d never brought it up with me.

  “Maybe.” Julius hung his head. “But I don’t think she ever called him out about it. It’d hurt her too much.” He ran a palm over the smooth dome of his head and dropped his hand on the desk with a thud. “Do you have to tell her, Kyle?” His gaze lifted and trapped mine. “Can I talk you outta it?”

  I didn’t want to tell a woman her husband was a frequent visitor of a brothel, and I certainly didn’t want to explain who was running the establishment. “I’ll do my best to avoid it, but it depends on what he does. I might not have a choice.”

  He nodded, but looked resigned.

  The supplier arrived. After we left Julius in his office, it was hard to pay attention. I was distracted while considering what Tariq would do. A wise man would accept the alimony offer I’d suggested and hope everything would conclude quietly. Only, Tariq was a loose cannon on the field. I assumed his emotional, fiery temperament extended to his regular life, too.

  That led my thoughts to Ruby. I wanted to talk to her. Get her take on what to do, only I couldn’t. Thank fuck she wasn’t on the case anymore. I stood beside Joseph, not paying attention while he talked about products, and I hoped any moment my phone would buzz with an incoming email from Sterns and Clifford. It would announce Crawford’s acceptance of terms, and we’d finally put the divorce to bed.

  In the end, I only bought one thing. A simple black flogger, and Joseph explained how to vary the technique to maximize Ruby’s enjoyment of the experience.

  My phone chimed with a text message from Payton when I was back at my office and had just finished going through settlement papers with a client.

  I was looking forward to Payton and Dominic officially meeting Ruby. My days of being the third wheel were behind me. My sister seemed cautious, but happy I was in a relationship.

  Yet there was no need to be cautious.

  I loved Ruby, and she loved me, and nothing was going to come between us now.

  Chapter

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  RUBY

  The day was dragging, and yet going too fast.

  I had anxiety about dinner tonight. Of course I was pleased Kyle wanted me to get to know his family, but my first run-in with Payton had been less than stellar. Her attitude toward me was barely warmer than the weather outside. At least she didn’t seem to view me as an enemy.

  I had a feeling if she gave me a chance, Payton and I would get along just fine.

  Kyle didn’t say it, but he didn’t have to. Tonight was important. His sister would see how much we cared about each other, and it would put her fears to rest of me hurting her brother again. And I was excited to lay eyes on the man who was always pitted against my boyfriend for the silly dollar bet. Who the fuck was better looking than my boyfriend? No one.

  An angry male voice carried through the office. It unfortunately happened from time to time. Emotions ran high, especially when a lot of money or divorce was involved, and I’d heard several of my colleagues getting an earful when things weren’t going well. Hell, I’d been on the receiving end once before. My personal favorite was, “What the fuck am I paying you for?”

  The shouting up front grew louder. Whoever he was, the guy wanted to see Henry, and he wanted to see him right this very moment. Wasn’t going to happen, though. Henry had worn his power suit early this morning as he’d swung through the office, which meant he’d be in court for the day.

  I tried to tune out the noise, but then he yelled my name. Shit. It had to be Tariq Crawford. A split second later my phone lit up, and FRONT DESK blinked on the screen.

  My heels tapped out a quick beat as I marched to the front, and sure enough, Tariq stood beside the receptionist’s desk, his eyes blazing and his expression furious. He looked intimidating, both his size and demeanor, and the administrative assistant cowered behind her desk.

  I forced myself to look pleasant and stay calm. “Mr. Crawford?”

  His wild gaze swung toward me. “Now we getting somewhere. I need to talk to my guy. It’s an emergency, and he won’t answer the damn phone.”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Reed is in court.”

  “Then you gotta help me.” His face was pained.

  No, I couldn’t. It was a major conflict of interest. And what on earth had happened that was so urgent in his divorce? I glanced to one of the side conference rooms and saw it was empty.

  Not that I really wanted to close myself in a small room alone with this large, wild-looking man who’d hit on me, but what was the alternative? If he told Henry I’d turned him away, one of the biggest clients to come through the door at Sterns and Clifford, I’d be in serious trouble.

  I motioned to the room. “Do you mind if we talk in there?”

  The only response from him was a look of relief.

  I’d barely sat down before he unraveled like a hot mess. Tariq set his hands on his forehead, then swiped his palms backward, stroking back his thin, neat dreadlocks. “Okay, I—”

  “Wait,” I said. “Before you say anything, I need to disclose I’ve been removed from your case due to a conflict of interest.”

  “What?”

  God, it was embarrassing enough having this conversation with Henry two weeks ago. Both men had witnessed me losing my temper at Kyle, and heard me in the elevator afterward. “Yo
ur wife’s attorney and I have a personal relationship.”

  He scowled and shook his head. “Yeah, I already know that. I remember you cussing him out.”

  “Right.” I gnashed my teeth. “Except our relationship is ongoing.”

  Tariq blinked slowly, and suspicion crept into his eyes. “What’s that mean? You sleeping with him?”

  I narrowed my gaze and struggled to pull in a deep, calming breath. Keep your cool, Ruby. “Yes, we’re dating.”

  He stared at me with a dubious expression, and then the suspicion grew exponentially until his whole face was sour. “No, you ain’t.”

  I wasn’t going to waste time arguing. “It’s in your best interest to wait for Mr. Reed.”

  “I don’t have time for that. I need a . . . I dunno, a gag order or something.”

  I gave him a skeptical look. “A gag order?”

  “I need protection. The press can’t find out about me going to the club, or I’m fucked.”

  What the hell was he talking about? “I’m sorry, what?”

  The strange, sickening gleam in Tariq’s eyes made unease flood my stomach. It announced whatever this ‘club’ was, it couldn’t be good. He leaned forward. “I’m about to use some adult language, girl. You seem like you can handle it. The blindfold club is where I go to get good pussy.”

  My face grew hot with a flush. I wasn’t an idiot. The lives of professional male athletes in Chicago ran the gamut. Some were wholesome family men who went to church every Sunday, and some partied harder at night than they did in the arena. A sports town as big as Chicago always had the rumblings of scandals with players.

  I kept my voice even. “A strip club.”

  “Nah, it’s not like that. It’s a classy, expensive whorehouse.”

  Sweet Christ, I didn’t need to know this. If Kyle had that kind of info, he’d eviscerate Tariq, because I would if Mrs. Crawford were my client. “Mr. Crawford, let me remind you—”

  “If the league finds out, forget it. I’m fucking done. I gotta know he’s not going to talk about it.”

  “Who?”

  His eyes were deep pools I couldn’t look away from, and his tone was pointed. “Your boyfriend.”

  I swallowed hard and my voice went grave. “Mr. McCreary knows you’ve visited this club?” If so, Tariq was right. He was fucked.

  “Yeah,” he said, and the sick gleam was back. “He was there today.”

  My brain buzzed as the information sunk in, but I battled to stay logical. I repeated it, but my words were full of skepticism. “He was there.”

  “Yeah. I thought it was a setup, but . . . he wasn’t there for me.” His expression was lewd, and dripped with meaning.

  I laughed at this total nonsense. There was no way Kyle would go to a whorehouse, as Tariq so nicely put it. No way he’d cheat on me.

  “You think that’s funny?” Anger darkened his face. “The girls at the club are up for anything. All kinds of kinky shit a vanilla girl like you won’t do. They’re naked, strapped down to the table, blindfolds on. I come in and do whatever the fuck I want, as long as I got the cash.”

  I made a face, not needing the image of Tariq fucking some girl bound to a table, and definitely not needing to know this information. “I’m sorry, I don’t believe you.”

  “Oh, yeah? Call him. Ask him where he was at one o’clock.”

  Why was I even humoring him? I set my cell phone on the table with a quiet thud and stared at the scene. “Let’s just pretend for a moment I do that. You think he’d tell me?”

  Tariq paused, considering. “He’s wearing a light gray suit, white shirt, blue striped tie. Call him.”

  The conviction in his words was unnerving, and my breath caught. The level of detail was hard to ignore. Was it possible he was telling the truth? I crossed my arms and leaned forward, hardening my expression. “Okay, so say you’re right. What the hell was he doing there?”

  He stared back at me like I was an idiot. “He was going into one of the rooms, and believe me. Only one thing happens in them.”

  It made no sense, and although I refused to believe it, my pulse was racing. Before I knew what I was doing, I had my phone in my nervous hands.

  This was stupid. I watched the three dots dance across the screen, my heart in my throat. When the message came through, I stared at it in disbelief. I clutched the phone so hard, it was a miracle it didn’t break.

  Chapter

  THIRTY-NINE

  KYLE

  Ruby didn’t respond to my text, or the follow-up one I sent which was simply a question mark.

  It bothered me, not just that she went silent, either. A bad feeling seeped in, took over, and it was suffocating. The feeling only intensified when I called her and it went straight to voicemail.

  Keith Gillespie’s face was a deep shade of red as he told me about his wife’s latest antics. She’d graduated from the spoons and lamps to claiming primary ownership of the furniture. She wanted the water bed in the guest room.

  A water bed.

  I choked back the urge to ask if I should list the bean bag and lava lamp, too. Surely, they had those. Wasn’t that included in the set when you bought a water bed?

  Jesus, why couldn’t I get hold of Ruby?

  “She’s getting that bed over my dead body,” Keith said.

  It was at least the third time he’d flung out the words “over my dead body,” and each time he uttered the phrase, it became more likely. I sort of wanted to murder him.

  A sharp knock on my office door made both of us flinch in our seats, and without waiting for me to respond, the door pushed open. My father lurked in the doorway, his expression solemn.

  “Please excuse the interruption, Mr. Gillespie,” he said. His gaze slid to mine. “Kyle, we need your help with something. It’s urgent.”

  He wouldn’t interrupt me with a client unless it was serious. I excused myself and joined my father in the hall, only he didn’t stay there and explain. He moved swiftly down the corridor, heading for the lobby. What the hell was going on? Unease chewed at me as I went after him.

  He turned the corner and led me to the front desk where I pulled up short.

  Ruby stood beside the half-wall the assistant’s desk was behind, and she leaned on it as if using it for support to keep her upright. Her cheeks were blotchy and her eyes rimmed with red.

  I didn’t care that my father was standing there, glaring at me, or how Suzanne, the administrative assistant, was leering at us like she didn’t want to miss a second of drama. All that mattered was Ruby was crying.

  I spoke on a low voice and stepped close. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

  “Don’t!” Her voice was pure fire and she backed away, her gaze fixed on my tie as if it were offensive. “Where were you today at one o’clock?”

  The lobby became a vacuum. I couldn’t breathe. I never anticipated Tariq would go to her, but I should have. Fuck, I should have just told her about Joseph and the club.

  I couldn’t take her back to my office because Gillespie was there. “Come on,” I said, hushed. “Let’s find somewhere to talk about it.”

  “No! Just answer the goddamn question.”

  I clenched my jaw, feeling my father’s gaze digging into the back of my head. I just needed her to calm down enough for him to leave, and then I could explain. “I went out to lunch with Joseph.”

  She banded an arm over her stomach, practically doubling over, as if my words had struck her painfully in her center. As her anger seemed to rise, so did the volume of her voice. “I know that’s not true, and you promised no lies.”

  It was both firm yet desperate. “Keep your voice down.”

  “Don’t tell me to be quiet, just tell me where you were.”

  Control was slipping away. She already knew my answer. If I gave her anything but the truth, it’d push her temper to redline. I glanced over my shoulder. Robert McCreary studied me the way he studied a witness on cross-examination, and I sighed. “I’ve go
t this under control. Can you tell the client in my office I’ll be another minute?”

  “No,” Ruby said. “You don’t have this under control.”

  I felt the imaginary knife she stabbed me with, every inch of it as it sliced into me. She wasn’t operating with all the information, but she was at least supposed to know me. She should trust I’d never, ever cheat on her.

  Fucking hell, we were right back at Randhurst. Had nothing changed? How could she think I’d fuck anyone else, and prostitutes, at that? My body tensed with a surge of anger, but I maintained a grip on my emotions.

  One of us had to right now.

  I summoned the strictest tone I possessed, the one I only used with her behind closed doors. “You’re going to let me explain.”

  The statement implied guilt, when the only thing I was guilty of was trying to protect my sister. Ruby’s face went ash-white, and I could see the exact moment I lost her to her temper. Her eyes burned with the fire of a million suns.

  Time decelerated.

  I sensed it, yet was surprised when she lashed out, her hand slapping me hard across my face. The assistant gasped loudly. My cheek stung, but it burned hotter with embarrassment and how unjustified her action was. For a sliver of a moment, I saw nothing but red.

  She was shaking violently, and tears spilled from her eyes, but she didn’t seem to be aware.

  “In private, now.” I was so pissed at her, it was difficult to think. Her scene had just thrown me into deep shit. I slipped a hand under her elbow to guide her toward a conference room, or the kitchen, or the bathroom . . . anywhere out of my father’s view.

  I pulled her stumbling along, even as she tried to break free with a defiant jerk of her arm, and I pushed the door open into the first empty space I could find. Lights blinked to life in the tiny filing room, and she whirled to face me when I released her.

  The door had barely shut before she spat it out. “I just left a meeting with Tariq Crawford.”

  Fuuuuck.

  “Are you trying to get us fired?” I growled under my breath. “Do you want to be disbarred?” Because whatever Crawford had told her was subject to attorney-client privileges. “You know better than this.”