Three Hard Lessons

by Nikki Sloane

  I let out a breath. “You didn’t make him pay. I mean, more than the club’s cut. Why?”

  There was surprise in his eyes. “You said what it would do to you, how it would make you feel. Payton, I’ve always given you what you needed, when I could.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. I like doing it. You and I are a lot alike.”

  It was at this moment I realized he looked different too. Not just the clothes, but faint, dark circles hung under his eyes. He looked . . . exhausted.

  Joseph wrapped a hand around his margarita. “Can I ask where you went?”

  “Tokyo.” That stunned him. Get ready, Joseph, here comes the mother of all surprises. “I went with the guy from that night at the club. He lives there.”

  He froze.

  “Crazy, huh?” I continued.

  Slowly Joseph returned to life. “You’re certainly not predictable. So, you’re back. Are you and him–?”

  I inhaled deeply and blew it out. “I don’t know what we are.”

  Since arriving in the States, I hadn’t heard from Dominic until this morning. I didn’t sleep well without him. I lay in bed, stared at the sunrise and wondered what he was doing on the other side of the earth. I was still so angry, but fuck it. I pulled my phone off the charger.

  Today was the first day I felt a little better. I told myself it was because I’d completely recovered from the jet lag, but it was bullshit. It was from opening the door to Dominic, just a tiny bit.

  Now I stared at Joseph and began to wonder about his motivations. “Why did you want to get together? To see if I’d come back to work?”

  His eyebrows lifted in what seemed to be curiosity. “Would you?”

  “No.”

  “And if Mr. Red wanted to work out an arrangement, would you be interested in that?”

  My heart beat faster with anxiety. I hadn’t thought about Mr. Red at all, and doing so now only made my disdain for him more intense. “What kind of arrangement?”

  “One that would make you exclusive to him. He wants you bad. As in, he’d pay for everything, bad. Car. Apartment. He’s loaded up to his eyeballs.”

  “He wants me to be his on-call whore.” I shuddered. “I don’t care how much money he has, or how broke I’m about to be, a thousand times no.”

  Surely Joseph would make some percentage or land a fee if he could broker this arrangement, but he didn’t look disappointed about my outright rejection. Instead his lips curled back in a bright smile.

  “Then, I’d like to offer you a job.”

  Had he gotten stupid in the past two months? “I told you, I’m not going back to the club.”

  His smile was devious. “But what if it was to take over for me?”

  chapter

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  My glass slipped from my fingers and thumped loudly on the table. “What? Where are you going?”

  “I have some personal stuff to take care of. I need some time off.”

  My brain raced with thoughts but my voice went skeptical. “You want me to fill in for you?”

  “You and I both know you can do it. Next to me, you’re the one who knows the most about the club, and I trust you. It’s not like what I do is all that hard. The place practically runs itself, but you’ve seen me handle the sticky situations.”

  Me running the club. The thought gave me a rush of power. And the money . . . “How much would I pull down?”

  He laughed. “Probably more than you made in the room. Are you interested?”

  “Fuck yeah, I’m interested.” I was way more than just interested.

  He detailed it all out then. I’d train and shadow him this weekend, and next weekend I would take over as manager. I spent the rest of the day at the club with him, learning how the monitor system worked and the cash-out process. It was weird to be back at the club, and I forced myself not to think about how I left.

  A daily morning routine began to develop with my texts to Dominic.

  I refused to go over to Evie and Logan’s place, but the reminders of Dominic were everywhere. The first time I got into my car, I couldn’t enjoy the feeling of the steering wheel in my hands. All I could do was think about the man who had sat in the passenger seat last time I’d driven.

  Thursday morning I woke from my restless sleep in my big, empty bed.

  That night, I sat down and took a hard look at my finances. If I could make around ten grand during my weekend managing, which should be easy, I’d have enough breathing room to last to the end of my lease.

  Or enough for a ticket back to Tokyo. I pushed the thought away.

  On Friday I woke at forty-thirty in the morning, my internal alarm clock ringing.

  His response was fast, as if he’d been waiting for me. I filled my lungs with air, then typed out the response I knew he’d interpret as consent.

  Thirty seconds later, my phone rang.

  “Hey,” I said, my throat tight.

  There was a sigh on the other end, one that sounded like relief. “Hey. How are you?”

  I closed my eyes and my hand tightened on the phone. It’d been eleven and a half days since I’d last heard that rough voice. There were a million different responses I could have given him, but went with the safest. “I’m tired. It’s really early here.”

  “I know. You didn’t have to get up. I mean, when you’re ready to talk, I’m ready. Whenever.”

  “Okay,” I said. “Talk.”

  “I’m sorry. I can’t say I’m sorry enough that I didn’t tell you. I lose my shit around you.”

  “The Payton effect?” I groaned. “Seriously, this is your excuse? Your idiot decision-making is my fault?

  “Yeah, the Payton effect. You don’t know what you do to me. You’re all I think about. When I’m with you, I don’t know, it’s like everything else doesn’t matter. It’s only you. I can’t focus. And when you’re not here? I can’t fucking breathe.” His voice dropped low and hesitant. “I wanted you to feel the same way about me, and I think that’s part of why I put off making a decision, maybe subconsciously.”

  “What?”

  “You’re smart, and gorgeous, and confident . . . in Chicago? Some better guy is going to come along and steal you away. I wanted you in Japan so I didn’t have any competition. I’m fucking weak.” His voice was heavy with guilt.

  Holy shit. “Are you insane? I mean, fucking insane? Who’s going to compete with you?” There was silence on the other end of the line. “That’s right. Nobody. Nobody who pushes me, and ignores my rules like a giant pain in the ass . . . and I mean all of my rules, including the one about love.”

  There was a sharp noise of surprise.

  “But you fucked up. Believe me when I tell you I don’t do lies. Test that rule again, and we’re done. As in, forever. And that,” I began to shake uncontrollably, “that would destroy me.”

  “Me too. I won’t lie to you again, I promise. Never again.”

  “Good.” There was a tightness in my chest I hadn’t noticed until now, as it began to ease.

  “Payton,” His voice was strong. “I love you. Real.” He exhaled into the phone. “Always real.”

  I wouldn’t say those three words for the first time through the phone when he was on the other side of the world, so I gave him three different ones. “It better be.” They were meant to be confident, but came from me shaky. Desperate.

  I turned onto my side on the bed, and hearing his voice in my darkened bedroom, I could pretend he was beside me. Maybe I’d finally be able to find sleep when we hung up.

  And I’d need sleep.

  Tonight I was going to make enough money to get my ass back to Tokyo, determined to get rid of all the unspoken things between us once and for all.

  I sat in my front seat, put on a final coat of mascara, and ran through the schedule once more in my head. I’d parked out front of the club at nine – an hour before the girls would arrive. When I stepped out and locked the car, I tugged at my coat. Beneath,
I wore my black pants, a royal blue top with a fitted black tux jacket over it, and high heels. My sexed-up version of professional.

  Julius was waiting for me at the front door, a huge smile on his face.

  “You happy to see me again?”

  I grinned as I unlocked the door and stepped inside. “Of course. You weren’t working last weekend.”

  I went room to room, flipping on lights and confirming setup.

  Joseph’s chair was comfortable when I sat in it and booted up his computer, hooked my earpiece in, then turned on the monitors and ensured the drives were recording. Joseph was right, the place did run itself. The girls arrived and checked in, and once I finished pairing sales assistants with the girls, I scanned the member appointment list.

  “Tara?” I asked into the comm system. “Mr. Red’s on the schedule.”

  “He does Claudia. She won’t see anyone after him.”

  I marked a line through Claudia’s name. I was more than a little curious to see Mr. Red’s face. Most of the schedule was booked. “Whose girl is willing to take an unannounced guest?”

  When there were no immediate takers, Tara joked, “How about you, Payton? Room Six is open.”

  There were some friendly laughs from my former coworkers, but I scowled. “No.”

  “Rachel says she’s up for it,” a female voice said through the earpiece.

  “Okay, thanks. Let’s go ahead and get into position. Julius?”

  “Yeah, girl?”

  “Can you show our first client in?”

  Mr. Red showed up just after midnight. He checked in with Julius, had a glass of whiskey at the bar, and then Marquis escorted him to Room Two. I watched it all unfold on the monitors. Mr. Red’s real name was Rosso, the Italian word for red. He was a media mogul who controlled half a dozen cable networks, and had one of those name-brand personalities, like Trump, or Cuban. Ironically, I’d worked for him before I came to the club. That job I hated, the one that had driven me here? Rosso owned the company.

  Black Friday, when I called in and asked to be put on the schedule, Joseph had asked if I wanted to see Mr. Red. How fucking different would my life be if I’d said yes? Dominic would have been escorted into someone else’s room and we’d never have met.

  Tara wandered into the office shortly after the deal had been struck and sat at the monitors beside me, her eyes on the flickering screens. Mr. Rosso had dropped five grand on Claudia. I’d never taken less than seven from him. I watched the screen as he pulled his cock out and shoved it in Claudia’s mouth, face-fucking her on the table. I had the strange déjà vu feeling of wanting it to be over, even though I wasn’t the one servicing him.

  My phone buzzed on the desktop and I glanced at the screen. Dominic?

  “Hey,” he said, his voice curious when I answered. “Where are you?”

  “I’m working, why?”

  There was a long pause. “Working where?”

  I hadn’t told him about what I was doing because I didn’t want him to know I’d have enough money to purchase a plane ticket. The goal had been to surprise him. I sighed. “I’m at the club.”

  “You’re . . . where?” It didn’t come out angry, it came out horrified.

  Wait, did he think I meant I was working as one of the girls? My face heated with annoyance. Yeah, I hadn’t actually said the words out loud, but he knew I loved him, right? That I belonged to him, and wouldn’t even consider . . .

  “Dominic, wait, it’s not like that.”

  “How exactly is it like?” Now there was anger in his voice.

  Oh. So, I guess he did think I was seeing clients again. My stunned, hurt silence probably didn’t help.

  “Did you take any offers tonight?”

  The hurt was burned up and replaced with rage. It flooded in my veins and overpowered my brain. “Nope, not yet.”

  He exhaled in a sharp burst. This was a lie by omission and I let it hang for a moment because the bitch inside me wanted to see how much he liked it when the tables were turned.

  “Then again,” I added, “my price has gone way up. No one can afford me.”

  “I can.”

  I gave a bitter laugh. “Okay, stop by and make an offer.”

  It was deadly silent on the other end of the line, until his deep voice rumbled. “I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

  chapter

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  I tried to call him back, but Dominic didn’t answer, not my calls, or my texts. My heart pounded. He was here in the States? What the hell was going on? I fidgeted in my seat, not sure what to do. Was he really coming to the club and planning to make an offer?

  “You okay?” Tara asked.

  No. Not at all. I was still angry and hurt, but the excitement that Dominic was on the same continent as me trumped that. “Yeah, I’m okay,” I lied.

  She gave me a skeptical look, but her focus returned to the monitors. My brain refused to acknowledge what was happening on the screen with the two writhing bodies on it. My attention was painted on the front entry camera.

  I’d barely been able to breathe while waiting, but fifteen minutes later when Dominic stepped inside, my lungs quit working altogether. Even on the grainy black and white screen, I could see every detail. He looked exhausted, but it was masked with anger and pain.

  “Oh, hell no,” Marquis snapped immediately. “You on the blacklist.”

  “Wait!” I all but screamed it into the comm. “Marquis, wait a minute.”

  “Payton McCreary,” Dominic said, his voice filtering through the speaker. “I’m going to see her right fucking now.”

  Marquis smiled and it was disturbing. Dominic wasn’t small – he was cut and lean, but Marquis was a mountain of muscle and aggression. He liked to fight, and he looked thrilled that this white-boy might challenge him.

  “Don’t know no one by that name,” Marquis lied.

  Dominic’s hands balled into fists. “Paige.”

  “She ain’t seeing clients no more.”

  “She’ll see me.”

  Marquis turned and looked up at the camera, like he was looking directly at me. “What you want me to do about this?”

  My voice was breathy. “Put him in holding room B.”

  I glanced at the other monitors. Only Claudia was still on. Rosso wasn’t going to be a safety issue, but Tara was still watching just in case.

  “Julius, where are you?” I said, pushing back from the desk and standing.

  “Just left the payment room.”

  “Meet me at Room Six in one minute.” My focus locked on Tara, and her gaze followed me as I gestured to the screen. “Can you give me updates on this?”

  Her eyes went wide as she realized what was happening. “Holy shit, you’re going to take the blacklist walk-in?” She peered closer to the monitor. “Wow, he’s fucking hot. I can do him.”

  Like I needed to add jealousy to the list of emotions swirling inside me. “I know he’s hot. That’s my boyfriend.”

  I heard her surprised gasp as I hurried across the hall to the changing room, stripping off my clothes. My hands clawed at fabric, flinging my bra and underwear into a heap, and I yanked on one of the silk robes, repositioning the earpiece and comm pack. I thought only about this task, about getting down the stairs and into the room, and not how it was going to play out once that happened.

  “What’s going on?” Julius asked me as I rushed to the door of Room Six. His gaze passed over my robe.

  “I need your help.” I tugged at his arm, pushed at the door, and turned on the light.

  He froze. “Not supposed to go into the rooms.”

  “Tonight you can. I’m the boss.”

  He followed me inside but looked at the room like he was sure it was going to explode at any second. “What do you need help with?”

  I scrambled to pull out the blindfold and the straps from the cabinets beneath the table. Julius was so cautious, I knew I couldn’t ask or he’d tell me no. I undid the sash on my robe
and slipped it off, casting it onto the white chair.

  “What–?” His eyes went as large as bowling balls. His gaze flitted down over my naked body and settled at my feet.

  I moved as quickly as possible, pulling the blindfold on, and tucking the comm pack in one fist so I could push the talk button if needed. My back slammed against the cushion-top. “Strap me down.”

  There were no footsteps closer, and I imagined him staring at that same spot on the ground.

  “Please. I can’t ask Tara, and I sure as shit won’t ask Marquis.”

  Still nothing.

  “I’ll give you two hundred dollars, but you gotta do it right now.”

  There you go. A smile tweaked on my lips as he moved closer. His hand closed on my wrist, wrapping the Velcro closed.

  “Are you looking?” I teased.

  “Nah.” He moved and did my other wrist. “But if I was, I’d say, damn, girl. You fucking sexy.”

  “Thanks,” I grinned, and then sobered a little. “Send the man in holding room B in here.”

  His heavy footfalls got quieter and I heard the door swing shut, leaving me alone with my racing thoughts. Why hadn’t Dominic told me he was in Chicago, and how long had he been here? Deep down, part of me was thrilled he’d come. For me.

  My pulse raced when the door creaked open and someone entered. The door slammed shut and I jumped at the boom.

  “Fuck,” Dominic said. “Tell me I’m the only man who’s been in this room.”

  Technically Julius . . . “You’re the only client who’s been in here. I had them put you in the holding room so I could give you what you wanted.”

  “What I wanted?”

  The longer he remained motionless, the angrier I got. “Yeah, a whore. You think that’s what I am, right? That I would fuck someone else, like you mean nothing to me. When the hell did you get to Chicago?”

  “My flight landed at ten, and I went straight to your place.”

  My thoughts scrambled. “Why?”

  “For you. You’re here, and I want to be with you.” Finally, it sounded like he took one step forward. Then, another, and the rough voice grew louder. “But I don’t understand why you’re here.”