“I didn’t know Kemper wasn’t good enough for you.”
“Oh, hush. I love that young man, and he can come on his own. When was the last time you went on a date?”
“I have one this week.” For sex. With a hot man. Who gave me an amazing orgasm last night.
“When can I meet him? If I have to wait for you, I’m liable to be half-buried by the time you introduce me.”
“Gran, we’ve only just started dating. We’re not ready for charity events or matching china. I promise if we continue, you will meet him very soon.” Or not, because it’s not that kind of relationship.
“See that you do,” she muttered. “And don’t work too hard. There is more to life than making partner.”
“I just want to make you guys proud, Mom and Dad included.” Alexandra ran her finger around the picture of her parents she kept on her desk, their bright smiles evident they’d only had eyes for each other. They truly had loved one another, and she wanted that for herself someday, after she’d carried on her father’s legacy.
“I know you do, baby, but your dad would be the first to tell you all work and no play makes Jane a dull girl. It’s why she ends up alone with her cat starter kit. Ask your mother, that man was always throwing a party. It used to drive her batty.”
“Good thing my name’s not Jane.”
“And now she thinks she’s a comedian. Stick to law, darling; you’ll never make it on stage.”
“Love you.” Alexandra smiled, her grandmother always made her feel better.
“Love you, too. See you in a couple weeks.” Alexandra hung up, then noticed the message light for her email. She clicked on the one from Roman, smiling for a completely different reason.
To: AK
From: Roman Valentine
Subject: Valentine
10:30 a.m.
Alexandra,
Excellent. Let me know after you’ve had your tests and we’ll proceed from there. The additional contract about our specific relationship is attached to this email. Be sure to bring the signed agreement with you the next time you come so we can file it.
Roman
Alexandra worked blissfully through the rest of the day, her mood too high to be brought down by the enormous caseload she’d inherited. She loved law, every case her own personal puzzle to solve. You win some, you lose some. Thankfully, she won most of the time because she prided herself on finding the tiniest piece to work in her favor. It was one of the reasons she was looking at making partner before she turned thirty. And after that, she’d settle down, find her a decent man, and make some babies.
5
Roman received the email from his assistant several days after his initial meeting with Alexandra, telling him her membership information was complete, including the test results. Nothing prevented him from emailing her and requesting she come in that night. They’d been in contact the last several days as she finished up the process, and it was finally completed. When he first suggested it, she probably assumed the agreement was for her protection, but it was actually for his. No one could know he was taking her into his bed, especially if he wanted to maintain Club Valentine as a respected business in the community. He’d decided to have sex with this member exclusively—nothing more, nothing less.
Some people refused to see the situation as such, and would use it against him if they found out, which they shouldn’t. For many years his brother had suggested they sponsor charity events as a way of showing community support. Some people snubbed their nose at money from him. They wanted distance between their precious organization and his nefarious sex club.
“Hey, man, why do you look like someone just kicked you?” His brother, Quinn, asked when he walked in for their weekly business meeting.
Roman frowned. “I’m frustrated because the Survive and Thrive Foundation told me they had to get back to me about sponsoring the upcoming event.” Survive and Thrive was the largest charity organization in the city, and several big events were funneled through their organization. It was one of the pathways to obtaining greater recognition because everything was so pretentious in this city, which was the main reason Quinn had suggested it in the first place. Besides, the upcoming event they were hosting was an admirable one, which focused on the children who’d been orphaned, a cause Roman knew all too well. Their mother had died at a young age, and although they’d lived with her sister at the time, who he considered his mom to this day, he and Quinn could have been one of those disadvantaged children.
Quinn looked at him sympathetically. “What did they say? Don’t need the money? Full of sponsors? Your business isn’t legitimate?” There was a long list of excuses, but this time there had been none.
“They actually didn’t try to feed me bullshit this time, just said they didn’t feel as though Club Valentine would be a good representative for their cause. I even offered to donate anonymously, but Miss Snyder, their fundraising officer, said it was unnecessary and unneeded.” There had to be someone in the organization who was a member, and he planned to find out who.
“Damn, dude, she didn’t even take your money with no strings attached? I know that frustrates you—”
“It doesn’t frustrate me, it pisses me off. Who is she to sit in her damn ivory tower and judge me?” Irritation tinged his voice as he got up to pace while continuing his rant. His body was on fire, the anger burning within him, a living, breathing animal he could barely contain. Not just for the club, but for everyone who’d ever been made ashamed about having sex.
“Because people want to have sex and I provide a safe and reasonable place, somehow I’m the bad guy? That’s bullshit! Everyone who comes in here is a consenting adult, and she has no clue what these people would be doing if they weren’t in my club. They would still be having sex, but because they’re a bunch of pretentious assholes, I am the one made to feel like what I’m doing is wrong.”
“I feel like I missed something here, because you don’t normally get this worked up over something like a charity event.”
“It’s not just that.” Roman ran his fingers through his hair, black locks probably spiking in different directions, and collapsed in his chair, his entire body seeming to deflate. He was damn sick of fighting, had been doing it from the very beginning, and he was so tired of having to justify his actions. He lived and breathed the club, and was strung so tight he felt like was going to snap.
Like the string that’d finally had enough and broke in two, never becoming whole again. Something was going to have to give. He couldn’t figure out Alexandra’s place in the complicated, fucked-up puzzle that was becoming his life, where pieces were spread out on the table but wouldn’t fit together like they used to.
He stared at the televisions, at the couple in the upper-level bar who seemed to be talking in the corner. They would probably move downstairs at some point, or maybe not, because this club wasn’t just about sex, but no one wanted to acknowledge that fact. They were too busy trying to make him out to be a glorified pimp.
Quinn went to the decanter and poured a generous splash of whisky. The drink reminded Roman of a certain pair of eyes attached to a knockout brunette who was free for the taking. Roman gestured for a drink, which Quinn poured. He sucked it down, wanting the burn to expel some of the knot that had settled in his gut since the other night.
Roman ran through the incident with Janie and Ben from the other night, as well as the other business information with Quinn before he knew he’d put off the inevitable long enough. “I didn’t really want to do this now, but I need to give you a heads-up. We have a new female member, Alexandra Kane, a local lawyer.”
“I thought we weren’t adding any new members. And especially not Alexandra Kane, the lawyer who’s followed in her father’s footsteps?”
Roman held up his glass for more when Quinn went to fill his, not addressing her identity. “We aren’t. She’s an exception.”
Quinn scrunched his eyebrows in confusion. The conversation in question ha
ppened less than a week before, so Roman had no reason to add someone new. “Why is she an exception?”
Roman cleared his throat. “She’s not just any member. She’s here to see me. Exclusively.”
Quinn leaned back, rubbing his chin while he contemplated Roman’s statement. “You mean to tell me, you just made your newest hookup a member? After we said no new members? When you could hook up with her somewhere else?”
“No. I mean she’s becoming a member so I can sleep with her.”
Quinn shot up so quickly the chair fell back with a resounding crack. “You better be kidding me because what you’re doing is one step up from a damn escort service.”
Roman bristled at the thought. He was the damn owner and Quinn was his younger brother, so he had no room to judge him. “She’ll be the same as everyone else. The only difference is I’m the member she’s sleeping with.”
Quinn cocked his head at him like he was crazy. “No, the difference is she’s paying the owner for sex.” He bent and picked up the chair, putting it back in its spot before resuming his seat. He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees and hands together like he was begging. “I’m warning you now. You’re my brother, who happens to be a very successful businessman, an intelligent person, and one of my best friends. This is going to end badly. No good can come from this. Especially when you bring in Marcus Kane’s daughter. The same Marcus Kane you’ve been obsessed with for years. Why would you even allow her in the club? ” Roman conjured up the image of Alexandra, her dark hair strewn across his bed, breasts bouncing as he slammed into her. His cock flared to life at the prospect of her in his bed. He pictured his birth mother, so beautiful and broken, who’d been irrevocably damaged by Marcus Kane’s actions. He thought of that damn house, where everything went down, and made up his mind.
“It’s done. Nothing bad will happen. It’s mutual gratification. Nothing more, nothing less.” He left off their side deal. His brother had never understood his obsession with the house. Roman was determined to see his plan through if for nothing else than to destroy that crumbling place that held nothing but bad memories for him.
***
The bars shut with a resounding clank, ensuring there was no escape. Alexandra never got used to the sound, no matter how many times she heard it, thankful she got to walk out of them when she finished with her client. She sat at the table, running her palms down her skirt, shaken up by the email she’d read right before walking into the jail.
To: AK
From: Roman Valentine
Subject: Valentine
2:30 p.m.
Alexandra,
I received the information from your test results. I expect to see you tonight at 8 p.m.
Roman
Her leg bobbed up and down while she opened the folder and looked at the pathetic amount of information she’d been able to gather about the case. Mr. Corey Davis was arrested as a suspect in the robbery of a pizza parlor. He allegedly stole $750, all the money from the till, and shot the owner, seventy-five-year-old Mr. Leo Dominic. Mr. Dominic is going to make a sympathetic witness. She shook her head, reading about the positive identification from Mr. Dominic. Normally, eye witness testimony was worth nothing, but Mr. Davis was a frequent customer, so he had no reason to lie or mistake him.
Shit, she thought, glancing up when the bars opened and her client walked in. She stood up as he entered, assessing his likability with a jury as he was escorted by an officer, his face unsmiling and his arms littered with tattoos. Her heart sank when she read “Thug Life” on his neck, the skull and crossbones peeking out from the orange jumpsuit seeming to solidify the mantra he’d made public on his neck. Her lips tipped up at the corners, hoping to put him at ease so he’d talk to her. She didn’t flinch while his intelligent eyes assessed her.
“Have a seat, please.” She kept her voice soft but firm, wanting to be assertive but non-threatening. The officer, a ginger who resembled an Oompa Loompa, reached up to grab him by the shoulder and force him in the chair. Corey flinched but didn’t move.
“Let go of my client,” she demanded, moving forward until the officer let go. “I’ll let you know if I need your assistance, but right now, all I need is to be alone with my client.”
The officer scoffed. “You think you want to be alone with this one, lady? He’s been fighting since he got in here. Knows he’s facing serious time for shooting that poor defenseless Ii-talian who was only trying to provide for his family.”
Corey’s body was strung tight, his head jerking toward the guard before she could stop him. A quick temper would make him unsympathetic to the jury. “How about you let me worry about my client,” she said, cutting off whatever attitude Corey was about to give the guard. She crossed her arms over her chest, stepping forward so she was in the guard’s face. With her heels, she was almost eye to eye with him, resisting a smirk when she saw him back up. “If I need you, I’ll let you know, but right now, this is a private meeting and your services are no longer required.”
The guard’s lips pursed, like he’d been sucking on sour lemons and found them undesirable. Tough shit, asshole; you’re not staying. He finally nodded, as though he gave permission to exercise the constitutional right of her client before backing out of the room and shutting the door behind him, muttering about crazy bitches the whole time. Corey stared at the wall, jaw twitching every couple seconds, ignoring her second request for him to sit down. His body looked coiled, a serpent ready to strike if he was poked again.
She touched his arm, moving her hand when he flinched before looking down at her. Every instinct in her told her to proceed with caution. “Please, have a seat. We can conduct this meeting standing up, but I’m sure we’ll both be more comfortable sitting.”
“You think I’ll be comfortable in those hard-ass chairs?” He smirked, the first time his hardened expression cracked since he came in.
“No.” She chuckled. “But I’m not trying to write in these heels.” He rolled his eyes, for the first time looking like the teenager she knew him to be, maneuvering himself into the chair. The cuffs jangled when he placed them on the table, folding his hands in front of him. She went to the other side, gathering her pen to take his statement.
“Tell me what happened.” She started with the same statement she’d said to countless clients, needing as much information as possible so she could properly represent them.
Corey shook his head ruefully. “That’s what you’re going to ask me? I know I can’t afford a lawyer, but damn, lady, that’s the best you got? I should have known they were going to send me this weak woman straight outta law school. That’s what I get for being poor.”
The irritation at being underestimated didn’t show on Alexandra’s face. He turned toward the door as though looking for the guard to take him back to his cell. She decided to school her newest client on how green she really was. “Yes, that’s what I’m going to ask you. You have no idea who you’re working with, kid, so don’t insult me by trying to pretend you know my job or anything about me.”
“I ain’t no kid, lady. And who are you?” He sneered. “Pretty T.H.O.T. who doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”
Alexandra laughed, unable to keep it in, while Corey stared at her as though she’d lost her mind. She waited until she had his attention before going in for the kill. “Let me tell you who I am, Corey Davis, eighteen years old, who had three juvie arrests before landing himself in this fine place for attempted murder and robbery. I am your best shot—your only shot at this point. I am not that hoe over there, your bitch, or anything else you believe in your convoluted little mind. I may be beautiful, but don’t let that fool you, because sirens are pretty, too, before they lead sailors into the rocks to their death. You have one of the most sought-after lawyers in the city working on your case because we happen to work pro bono on cases such as yours, so don’t shit on me and pretend like it gets you somewhere. When I ask you a question, you answer, and you do it with a smile because if
not, you will be sitting behind these walls for a long-ass time, if not the rest of your life. Do you want Milania to grow up without her father?”
He eyed her warily. “How did you know about Milania?”
She made a big show of crossing her legs and getting comfortable. She was used to be underestimated, and he probably wasn’t expecting her to have contacted people about his personal life. “I made it my business, just like I’m going to secure you reasonable bail at your arraignment tomorrow so you can be there for Talia’s pregnancy. But I can’t help if I don’t trust you, and I won’t trust you, if you don’t answer my questions.”
“You want me to tell you what happened?”
“Yes.” She nodded, grabbing the paper and pen once again, ready to record his account.
“I don’t know.” She started writing, stopping at “don’t”, his statement sinking in.
“What the hell? What do you mean you don’t know? You have to know.”
Corey shrugged. His posture was such you would swear he was waiting for a server to bring him his martini instead of inside the county jail awaiting trial. “No, I don’t. It’s why you pissed me off. It’s why everybody has pissed me off. I didn’t do this shit. I was with my girlfriend all night. I told the damn detective, Talia told him, but he said I was lying and threw me in here.” Alexandra flipped through the pitiful pieces of information she had. Panic was trying to push its way in. How did they make a positive identification if he hadn’t been there? Witness identifications were often unreliable, but Corey was a regular customer, so they knew him.
“According to the report I was given, the owner said it was their former customer, and pointed you out in the lineup. Are you telling me they lied to the detective?”
Corey threw his hands up, the chains of his cuffs rattling when he brought them back down on top of the table. “I don’t know. I wasn’t there. I haven’t been back to that pizza place in about six months, since I moved in with Talia when she got pregnant.”
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