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What am I doing? Roman thought, watching Alexandra saunter toward the exit, the gentle sway of her hips holding him captive. He could count on one hand the number of clients he’d slept with, and most he associated with outside of the club, since it was just too messy. There was no way to maintain his professionalism if he was sleeping with the women who came in. And he needed to maintain his professionalism or else people lost respect for Club Valentine.
His original goal had been to offer her one of his other guys more suitable to her needs, but one look at her and there was no way he would be giving her to someone else. Her clothing had clung to her soft curves, her breasts had been more than a handful, her legs had gone on for days, and eyes like whiskey that would warm someone on a cold day. There was no way to stand close to her and not touch, so he hadn’t been able to resist the taste he gave himself.
She’ll be back. He wasn’t worried, because he read the desire in her eyes. They were sexually compatible. He’d have to make arrangements for his private room to be readied, because it looked like he was taking a new lover. Women weren’t in short supply and Roman had his pick, but he’d been so busy he’d neglected his sex life as of late. Which was funny if you thought about it because he was surrounded by sex and hadn’t gotten laid in weeks.
He’d been too busy trying to acquire the damn property she’d dangled in front of his face like a carrot. If she understood why he’d inquired about the property, she may not be so quick to give him access, because it was purely for revenge. He wanted to level the damn house and any horrible memories it may still contain. It finally seemed within his sights. He’d known exactly who she was when she’d come in. Particularly the identification of her father. He never would have assumed Marcus Kane’s daughter would beg him for anything, but there she was. Maybe he could use it to his advantage.
“Come in,” he called to whoever was knocking on the door, surprised when Gina Howell slinked into the room. There wasn’t a platinum-blonde hair out of place, and if she breathed wrong in her skintight black dress, her nipples would have popped out. Her ruby red lips smiled, thinking she had him. His cock stirred, remembering a time when she’d sucked him dry. The girl was better than a Hoover, but he wasn’t in the mood for her then, or ever again for that matter. He didn’t do relationships, and she’d tried a couple of blowjobs as an audition for the job, thinking she would pass with flying colors. No pussy was that amazing unless it was dipped in gold, hers included, but she kept trying.
She walked toward him, kissing him on the cheek. “How are you, darling?” she asked in his ear, causing his cock to jump to half-mast.
He scooted his chair back to provide some distance, hoping she got the message, before he answered. “I’m doing well, but I thought I told you to stop calling me darling.”
Never one to heed social cues, Gina moved closer, rubbing her hand down his chest on the fast track to his junk. He grabbed her hand inches from his cock.
“You don’t get to touch me.” He moved her hand away and pushed his chair into his desk. “If you have something to say, you can sit,” he pointed to the chair on the other side, “over there.” Unfazed by her pout as she moved to the other side, he continued. “I’ve told you once we aren’t going there again.”
She licked her lips, thinking she looked sexy, but all she looked was desperate. Her breasts hung half out of her dress while she leaned toward him, but all he remembered were the gorgeous pair he saw on Alexandra, encased so she only hinted at what she was hiding beneath. Like unwrapping a present as opposed to having everything thrust in his face without any mystery. “We were good together, and I know we’ll be damn good in bed.”
“You gave good blowjobs,” he corrected. “I respect you as a member of this club, but that’s all. If you refuse to accept what I’ve told you several times then expect your membership to this club to be revoked. I refuse to sit here and be harassed by you every time you come in here.”
“Oh, really?” She arched her eyebrow, looking down at him as though he was shit on her shoe. Outside these doors, she wouldn’t acknowledge they knew each other, let alone that she begged him to put his dick in her mouth. He rubbed his forehead, weary from it all. “You’re telling me you would kick the wife of one of your richest members out of your club?”
He chuckled. Gina was the one who favored this membership but treated him like he needed her, so she threw her weight around when she thought it would get her what she wanted. “Soon to be the ex-wife once those divorce papers are signed. And he’s told me several times he doesn’t like the scenery. I’m sure he’d thank me when he doesn’t have to continue paying your fees as part of the divorce agreement.”
She crossed her legs, and he was struck by how little he felt by her actions when he’d been ready to throw Alexandra on his desk for the same movement earlier. “How do you know what’s in my divorce agreement?”
He chuckled. “Nothing’s a secret in this town. Privacy is an illusion people use to reassure themselves that the decisions they don’t want people to know about can be hidden.”
She waved him off. “And you sit here in your office and lord over people like you’re the king of the world.”
“I make no apologies for who or what I am. You can take it or leave it. Makes no difference to me. Sex always sells, and I offer people a place to engage in their sexual fetishes with no shame, something you’ve enjoyed.”
Crystal blue eyes flashed fire as she stood tall. “Don’t throw stones if you live in a glass house, Roman.”
He shook his head. “Nobody’s throwing stones. You’re just pissed we’re done.”
“Believe what you want. You’ll get your due.” She stormed out before he could respond. Gina had always been a drama queen, and he should have never gone there. She was a perfect example of why dogs don’t shit where they sleep and similarly why he didn’t fuck clients. The paperwork on his desk held more appeal than another unwanted guest. Paperwork gave him a headache so he usually left it for his brother, but Roman worked through it that night to avoid people.
When he couldn’t avoid it any longer, he left his office to make his nightly walk-through of the club. He moved down the hall past his office into the room that opened up to the main level—a bar where couples could spend time drinking or having sex in one of the dark corners—nodding at his security guys on the way to the lower level. Everything at the club was free, the exorbitant membership fees more than paying for whatever alcohol they consumed. He walked through the open area. Beds, couches, benches, and every available surface were covered with couples in the middle of various sex acts. He barely spared them a glance. It was a little after ten so the club wasn’t too packed, but that would change in the next hour.
The lower level was where most of the action took place. There was a smaller bar in the back corner, but most of the people came down there for one reason. The lighting was darker, a softer glow coming from the overhead lights, giving the illusion of privacy although it was still light enough to see everything happening. There were more places for people to engage in whatever action they chose necessary, as well as swings, a stage, and another area that led to private rooms that could be rented out for the evening or for longer periods of time. He had his own private room, although he rarely used it, preferring to keep his personal life private from his business, but it was convenient to maintain a room there just in case.
“How’s it going tonight?” he asked Marco, his assistant who doubled as head of security, whose expertise made up for his appearance. Too many underground fights left him with a crooked nose and a cauliflower ear, but the guy kept the club running and had saved Roman’s ass a time or two.
“See Ben?” Marco nodded to the corner bed, where one of their newer clients was spread-eagle while one of their wilder members rode him. She was squealing and pinching the nipples of the girl in front of her, who was sitting on what he assumed to be Ben’s face, head slung back and mouth hanging open. Wat
ch it, you’ll catch flies, Roman thought, turning from the group to focus on Marco.
“What’s going on with him?”
“I don’t know if he’s going to work out,” Marco admitted, continuing to watch the room while they talked. Roman prided himself on having a safe and clean club, so after his bookkeeper ran a full background check and the potential member went through testing for diseases from the club’s doctor, they had a ninety-day probationary period to determine whether the club was the best place for them. It was like a test drive, with Roman and the member sitting down to determine whether they should continue their membership following the probationary period.
Basically anything goes in this club as long as it’s consensual and everyone was protected, but you couldn’t always tell from an application if a person would be a good fit. If someone wasn’t working out, like if he or Marco found the person made others uncomfortable, Roman and his brother sat down and made hard decisions. Nothing personal, but business was business, and if someone would fuck with his regular members, Roman would let them go. Besides, once you became a member, you were pretty much in for life unless you broke a rule or refused to pay, so the first ninety days was critical.
Roman hugged and European-kissed the model who came up to greet him on her way toward one of the private rooms in the back. She was no doubt going to meet her husband who was also a member. It was for these types of couples that he was particularly proud of his club. He believed it held some marriages together being allowed to play together in this environment every once in a while.
“Why?”
After noticing Marco’s narrowed eyes at Ben, he watched the probationary member more closely. One of the partners in that threesome had been one of Roman’s long-timers, Jane, who still lay with the half-hooded look of someone who just got laid. Without so much as a by your leave, he slapped Janie on the ass before walking off. Rude asshole.
“See Janie?” She was still laying there, the half-hooded look of someone who just got laid.
“What about her?”
“She was…reluctant…to go with him.”
Roman crossed his arms, faced Marco head-on, with his jaw clenched so tight he risked cracking a tooth. “What the hell do you mean by reluctant?” One of their biggest rules was that the sex had to be consensual, and Marco should have never let her go over there if she’d been reluctant.
Marco stepped back, raising his hand. He had a solid hundred pounds and three inches on Roman, but Roman was scary when pissed. “I didn’t say she didn’t want to go, I just said she was reluctant at first, like she was trying to figure out if she liked him. She was the one who walked him to the bed and tackled him with a kiss, so I didn’t step in. She’s pretty picky, but I’m going to pull her and talk to her as soon as she gets up.”
“See that you do,” he said through gritted teeth. “And make sure that shit doesn’t happen again. I don’t give a fuck if she dry humps his leg; if she looks reluctant, step up and see what the hell is going on.”
“Understood.” Marco nodded. Roman dismissed him. He watched as Marco crossed to Janie and led her to his office. Roman had five rules, and Marco was close to allowing Ben to break one of them. Rule number one: Be safe. Rule number two: If it’s not consensual, it’s not happening. Rule number three: What happens here, stays here. Rule number four: The only thing you pay for is the membership. Rule number five: No drugs.
Roman continued to watch the room while Marco was gone. He wanted his customers to understand he was present, and nothing communicated that more than being on the floor. He waved Ben over, wanting to get a feel for the new guy. No one got into the club without a referral, and he’d been vouched for by one of their older members who’d never steered Roman wrong before.
“Hey, Roman.” Ben bopped around like an eager puppy. He hadn’t bothered to get dressed after his last encounter, so his junk was swinging back and forth. Roman considered punching it just to make him stop moving. “I’m loving this place! All the free pussy I want.”
Roman’s face remained impassive as he listened to the douchebag ramble on about getting laid. Regardless of their reputation, the club wasn’t a massive orgy, but this guy acted like everyone was there to service his ass. “We don’t look at it as ‘free pussy’,” Roman corrected him. “It’s an understanding between adults for shared sexual gratification.”
“Call it whatever you want.” Ben grinned, patting the abs that resembled a keg as opposed to a six-pack. “But I call it free pussy.”
And that’s why I call it a trial period. Roman tamped down the anger at the man treating his club like a fucking playground, secure in the knowledge he would not be obtaining a membership. If he could get away with it, he’d kick him out right then, but unless the man did something specifically against the rules, he was stuck with him for the rest of his probationary period. After that, he’d be releasing him with pleasure.
He wrapped up his conversation with Ben, who then lumbered his naked ass over to the next woman offering him a chance. He didn’t want to watch anymore and went back to his office, craving the breather. Roman collapsed in his chair, unusually tired for a Wednesday night. He felt the ache in his bones, too many hours at the club catching up to him. He needed a vacation, hadn’t had one of those in over a year, but at this point he’d settle for a day off. Staring at the screens, he pretended to pay attention to his club, but his mind was stuck on the brown-haired beauty who’d invaded his office earlier, the faint smell of flowers still in the air.
***
Roman leaned back and closed his eyes, rubbing the sleep out of them a couple hours later. He’d plowed through his last bit of paperwork, about to call it a night, when he heard the knock at the door.
“Come in,” he called, hoping it wasn’t Gina again, thankful when he saw it was Marco. The man nodded his greeting, taking off his suit jacket on his way to Roman’s desk. Out in the club, it was all business, but in here it was two friends shooting the shit.
“What’s up?” Roman straightened out his desk after Marco got comfortable.
“I talked to Janie…” Marco started, shaking his head. He sighed heavily but didn’t finish. It was annoying; Roman wanted all the information and Marco always tried to drag it out to see how long Roman could last.
“And?”
Marco raised an eyebrow. “You want to know?”
“You want to get paid?”
“Good one. So, I spoke with both of them, and we need to suspend their membership. Apparently, he tried to sweet-talk her, she told him no, and then he offered her $100, so she agreed. That’s what I saw; her eagerness was because she wanted to get paid.”
“You gotta be kidding me.” This was the last issue Roman felt like dealing with that night. “Where are they?” Roman clenched his fist, the anger coursing through him at the potential implications for his club. He’d be punished even if he didn’t know it occurred. Payment for sexual favors of any kind was illegal on the very short list of things that would get you kicked out.
“They’re outside your office. I just wanted to let you know before I brought them in.” Marco stood and let Janie in. She’d been crying, probably because she knew she was about to get kicked out. She spent more time in the club than Roman, and embodied the stereotype of a spoiled heiress who loved the chase and a threesome. But she was getting cut off. Marco stood off to the side while she sat in front of Roman, shoulders hunched, hiccupping every once in a while.
“Janie, what were you thinking?” he asked. “First, that’s illegal. Second, you shouldn’t be selling your body at all to anyone. Third, you didn’t even want to have sex with him until he offered to pay you. And fourth, we both know you don’t need the money.” He spoke to her as he would a wounded animal because she looked ready to break.
“I…know…” she cried. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m sorry.”
“You know the rules,” he told her.
“Can I have another chance?” Her blonde
hair hung in limp strands, black streaks of mascara running down her face. He passed her the box of tissues so she could fix her face.
“No, ma’am.”
He watched her fold into herself and cry uncontrollably. Roman had a “sorry, not sorry” moment, because she’d broken the rules, and he wasn’t going to risk his club so she could get her rocks off for a hundred bucks. She pissed more than that away in restaurants on one bottle of wine, and she wanted to ruin her membership? Not his problem. “Janie, you’re going to have to clear out your property and leave tonight. Jason will walk you out.”
“Seriously?” she wailed.
“Seriously,” he repeated, feeling like a tween talking to her friend. “You know the rules, so you have to go tonight. Marco? Take her and bring in Ben.” Marco stepped forward, walking the sobbing woman into the hallway and escorting Ben back in. He looked far more aggravated than the cocky man from a few hours ago. He jerked his arm from Marco’s grip before stopping in front of Roman’s desk, arms crossed belligerently.
“Have a seat, Ben,” Roman began.
“I’d rather stand,” Ben countered, looking down at Roman.
“Suit yourself.” Roman shrugged. “It came to our attention tonight that you paid one of our girls to have sex with you.”
His face reddened before he burst out his defense. “That crack whore lied!”
“Watch your mouth Mr. Nance. Regardless of whether you think we’re stupid and are going to believe you after one of our oldest members admitted to breaking the rules with you, you need to understand that type of behavior is illegal and not tolerated.”
“Fine. I won’t do it again.” He brushed off the underlying problem and addressed Roman like he was an underling. Roman took pleasure in putting the disrespectful idiot in his place.
“Did you forget the contract you signed? There is no second chance. Your membership is revoked.”
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