Club Saturday: Contemporary Menage Romance (Sarasota Sin Series Book 2)

by Talyn Scott

  With her head reeling, Vania said a dismal goodbye to Matt, a final goodbye she hoped. Since she’d spent all of her walking time talking to him, she decided to drive. By the time she reached the top floor of The Easton Hotel, Vania dove headfirst into work, needing a distraction, anything to lower her blood from boiling to simmering.

  Luckily, Avery’s corner of the office was busier than usual. It appeared he’d fallen in love with a European property he must have for one of The Easton Company’s 2016 projects. Vania had to stop everything planned and focus on making this sale happen at the right price.

  With patience, she finally made the last connection, placing foreign brokers with Avery’s personal real estate attorney. She couldn’t imagine having a real estate attorney, particularly one who worked exclusively for her. Then again, Vania couldn’t imagine lording over billions.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” Cora asked again.

  “Stop asking me, I’m fine. You had no clue that Matt and I broke up so let it go.”

  “You’re acting different though.” She pouted. But Vania thought the gesture might be for Julian’s benefit, since he was passing through to Drake’s office. “Because you’re mad at me.”

  “Just stop.”

  Vania’s hand felt lighter without her engagement ring. She’d hidden it in the loft’s freezer, beneath the icemaker since there wasn’t any food. Whenever she decided to hock it, she’d start her future house fund with the proceeds.

  Cora sighed. “How about if I —"

  “Stop!” Vania was tense enough about this afternoon’s appointment, without listening to Cora whine. Discussing her ex fiancé with the gynecologist wouldn’t be easy, but she needed prompt blood work to check for STDs. “Just stop, Cora.”

  “That’s not nice,” Evan said from behind her.

  Her shoulders hitched. She hadn’t seen either Drake or Evan since she’d arrived, except in passing. “I wasn’t talking to you.” She didn’t turn around. “Cora thinks I’m mad at her for directing Matt to the firehouse.”

  “I vote we don’t talk about Matt at all.”

  Drake appeared with a stack of files in his hands. “I second that vote.” He nodded at Cora. “Type a memo and add it to security’s briefing from yesterday.”

  Cora’s mouth dropped open. “Are you…”

  “Yes, Miss Bellamy, I’m serious. Matthew Lambert is not allowed in this hotel, nor should anyone speak to him on the phone about Vania.” Cora’s face crumbled, but Drake kept going. “While we’re on the subject, Vania shouldn’t be reminded of him at work.”

  Drake turned, giving everyone his back, and started walking down the hallway that led to Julian’s office.

  Vania flattened her hand over her heart, sensing a deep shaking in her chest.

  “Did you just growl?” Cora’s eyebrows popped.

  “Can you get Avery’s calls for a minute?” she asked through clenched teeth.

  Cora nodded.

  Vania stood up so fast that she grew dizzy, but she kept going, chasing after Drake. She could sense Evan’s heat behind her, could hear his frustrated breaths.

  “Vania?” he whispered-called to her retreating back. “What are you doing?”

  She stomped on. “I’m a woman on a mission.”

  “I can see that.”

  Drake was ahead of her, leaning against Julian’s open door while in deep discussion. Hearing her, he turned around. “Vania?” Dark eyebrows slammed over his eyes. “What is it?”

  “Excuse me, Mr. Easton,” she addressed Julian. “But I would like to have a word with the three of you.”

  Julian gave Drake and Evan an I-told-you-so look.

  From behind her, Evan snagged Vania’s forearm, careful of her upper arm bruises, and pulled her inside the copy room.

  Drake filled the doorway, squeezing in next to them, and closed the door behind him.

  “Hey!” With Evan on one side and Drake on the other, Vania had no room to breathe. “Let me out!”

  “You wanted to talk,” Evan said, shifting to make room for Drake by thrusting one knee inside her thighs and placing the flat of his hand on her ass. “So talk.”

  She wiggled back, but only managed to brush her breasts in smashed circles on Evan’s chest. This made Evan groan, sending vibrations from his chest to hers.

  “You snagged my stockings!”

  Vania shoved at Evan, elbowing Drake in the process. He leaned in, his eyes narrowing. “That bastard came to see you, didn’t he?”

  “You should know,” she growled right back, trying to turn and face Drake, but only managed to lift her skirt higher. Evan’s hands slipped down, curling beneath her thighs. “You’ve got a suit tailing me.” She’d seen unmarked security following behind her car on the way to work.

  “Who even says that?” Drake laughed softly.

  Evan’s fingers traveled to Vania’s ass, giving it a hard squeeze. “What movies do you watch, all black and white?”

  “You’re not going to distract me!” She pointed to Drake’s nose, at the same time she tried to wiggle around Evan’s distracting fingers. “You two and Julian beat Matt black and blue.” Evan’s erection pressed against her stomach, which made her stutter a little bit. “T-then you hauled my belongings from his house.”

  Drake’s eyes dropped to where her skirt had ridden up, taking in her garter straps and stockings. He licked his lips. “Is this your way of thanking me?”

  “Thanking you?” Vania reeled back, her elbow smacking the copier. “You don’t have the right —"

  “So, Miss Lange, you’re saying I overstepped my bounds.”

  Evan stayed quiet, but his cock rocked harder against her stomach. When she whipped her head around and glared at him, his dark eyes glinted mischievously. “It’s all on you, Baby. You keep wiggling and shifting against me. How’s my dick supposed to stay soft?”

  She hissed. “Open that door!”

  Drake leaned, the scruff of his black whiskers scraping against her cheek. “If I want to pulverize any of your ex-lovers, I will. If I want to place one-hundred bodyguards on you instead of one, I will.” He chewed that sexy, pouty lip a moment. “And if I want to put you over my desk and spank your ass for insubordination, I will.”

  Though Drake appeared as furious as Vania, he brushed his lips softly over hers before pulling away.

  “Wow. This meeting got me nowhere.” But she couldn’t deny the tingles floating throughout her body while being pressed between two, gorgeous powerhouses.

  Evan dipped his head and took her mouth, tapping their front teeth as he pulled her hips toward him. When they came up for air, panting, he said, “You know we want you.”

  “You know I want you both,” she countered.

  Drake stared at her with the intensity of a runaway freight train. “You’ve been through a lot during the past forty-eight hours, but we want a relationship with you, Vania, a monogamous relationship. Not a temporary affair,” he added quickly, “because we want this attraction that you have for us and we have for you to lead to something significant.”

  “Significant?”

  Evan nodded. “A future sort of something.”

  Taken aback, Vania whispered in a voice that sounded too vulnerable. “I’ve been hurt enough to last me” — she shrugged —"at least a year. It’s too soon to commit to anything other than being lovers.”

  “It takes a real shithead to hurt a woman,” Drake growled. “Neither of us falls in Matt Lambert’s category. Anytime we’ve been intimate with a woman, the ground rules, for lack of a better term, were spelled out beforehand.”

  “What if it’s you who’ll hurt us?” Evan asked. “Have you thought of that?”

  “You can have anyone you want —"

  Drake pressed a finger against her lips. “We’ve made it clear that we want a relationship with you, Vania.” Her heartbeat accelerated. “Though I originally thought it was too soon to press you for this, you’ve responded to us perfectly. Your mind
may stagger on the idea, but your body wants us. That’s a good place to start.”

  Evan traced fingertips across Vania’s cheek when Drake dropped his hand from her mouth. She stayed quiet, thinking too hard.

  “You know Easton ways by now,” Drake said as he opened the door. “Do any of us look like we give up if we want something or someone?”

  “But —"

  Drake sighed. “Fear of the unknown paralyzes, but so does hesitation.”

  “We’re not willing to risk losing you, Vania,” Evan pointed out. “Are you willing to risk losing us?”

  Chapter 16

  “Of course not, Mr. Easton.” Vania angled her head, placing her phone between her shoulder and ear as she parked her car behind Club Saturday. “I understand completely.”

  She stepped from the car, her stockings catching on the door as she bent to retrieve her satchel and purse. “Just enjoy your time in France and tell Payton and Libby not to fret over the firehouse.”

  In seconds, the snag turned into a deep run, traveling up her leg at the speed of light. She stared down at the contrast between her ivory skin and the stockings in frustrated disbelief.

  “Right. Julian’s interviewing three managerial candidates tomorrow,” she confirmed. Hopefully, they would pan out. But they’d gone through ten candidates already with no success. “None of them have any experience whatsoever in art, only management.”

  She shut the door with her hip and slipped her purse inside her satchel. “But Libby emailed, saying she would continue managing the art exhibits. Of course, I know she’s pregnant with twins.”

  She held a finger up to the bouncer before he slammed the door behind a delivery. “Yes, I have a temporary coming in to help me as well. I’ll text you the moment he signs them.”

  She put away her phone and looked up. “I’m here to —"

  “No way, sweetheart. Employees only.” The bouncer scowled. “Enter through the front door.”

  “The line there is at least two hours long.” She adjusted her glasses before they slipped completely off her nose.

  If Evan had answered his phone, Vania wouldn’t be forced to track him down at such a late hour. She knew the game he and Drake were playing, treating her with distant professionalism while she thought through their relationship proposal.

  But it’d been only three days since their copy room confrontation, which wasn’t enough time for her to catch her breath, yet the silent tension among the three had escalated to a thousand scorching degrees. Particularly when Drake and Evan forwarded a secured email to her from their private doctor that confirmed each man’s sexual health, with the subject line blaring ‘No Barriers’. After she’d stewed awhile, Vania realized they were being responsible and she was acting stupid, immature, and embarrassed over the whole thing. So she forwarded her recent test results to them.

  “I must speak with Evan Easton now.”

  “Sweetheart,” the bouncer snapped, “every woman wants to speak with Evan Easton. Like I said, front door unless you work here.” He crossed his arms over his chest, straining the seams on his suit jacket as he blocked the door. “And I know everyone who works here.”

  If only she were here to relax and dance instead of working until… she lifted her hand and glanced at her watch. She couldn’t believe it was after nine. She’d arrived at The Easton Hotel at six this morning and wore the same heels, her feet now sweaty and throbbing.

  “You’re right.” She’d had enough of this man. “I don’t work at Club Saturday. However, I work for The Easton Company.” Vania leaned in, somehow ignoring how much larger he was than her. Next, she added a lie for good measure, “And I’m having breakfast with Patricia from human resources in the morning.” She glared over her glasses at him, scolding the bouncer with her best sneer while shaking her satchel. “So if you prevent me from getting these documents signed tonight, I will tell Patricia to redirect your next paycheck.”

  He jutted his jaw. “I get direct deposit.”

  She snorted. “Number transpositions happen so frequently in banking.” Vania stepped closer, going toe-to-toe with the big guy. “Even so, those pesky problems can be cleared up in three or four working days. As long as there are no bank holidays and Patricia is inclined to return your calls. I must warn you, though. She gets bitchy this time of the month.”

  A rumbling laugh sounded from behind her. “Miss Lange is with me.”

  A hand settled on her shoulder, the commanding voice echoing the one leading last night’s darkest, naughtiest dream. Vania refused to turn around and face those amber eyes and the dark hair tumbling over his forehead, until she gathered her breath enough not to squeak like a mouse.

  The bouncer lifted his eyes, looking high over her head, and stepped to the side. “Of course, Mr. Easton.”

  “Shall we find Evan?” Drake asked Vania, his voice softening. He slid his hand from her shoulder to curve beneath her elbow, leading her to the club’s three-story, private lobby. “Together.”

  She found her voice right as a strobe hit her eyes, the flashing blue nearly blinding her. “Together?”

  “Vania?” A familiar voice interrupted.

  Drake pivoted on his heels to find Evan behind them. “Why couldn’t she get you by phone or email?”

  Evan’s eyes burned through her. “Were you trying to get me, Miss Lange?”

  She’d tried in vain since the clock struck six to contact him, only to be stuck coming to the club instead of sinking into her bathtub and soaking off the day.

  “Mr. Easton,” she said professionally, ignoring what she really wanted to say. “I have documents for you to sign that Mr. Avery Easton needs before midnight.”

  Drake’s shoulders tightened. “So your work isn’t over even when you leave here tonight?”

  Oh, his eyes, she could melt in them. In fact, she sensed a personal dampness that certainly qualified as melting on the spot. “No.”

  “Have you eaten?” Evan asked.

  “Breakfast.” She took a step back, lifting her satchel. “Just… I need these signed.”

  Evan signaled to a man in a dark suit who wore an earpiece. “Have steak, potatoes, and salads for three delivered to my apartment. Also, send up fruit and cheese, plus wine from our French vineyard right away.”

  Evan gripped her elbow, much the way Drake had only moments earlier. “Do you have your laptop with you?”

  “It’s in my car.”

  He led her to a private elevator, only releasing her to swipe his card key through the slot. “You’ll use mine.”

  “I don’t need anything but —"

  “You do need.” Drake entered the elevator beside them, punching in a six-digit code that sent them high over Club Saturday. “You’re getting our help whether you like it or not. And you’re going to eat, by the way, even if we must feed you every bite.”

  Vania opened and closed her mouth, unknowing what to say. So she leaned her forehead against the one-way glass, watching as dancers played across the pulsating dance floor, lifting their lips to brilliant blue concoctions while entwining their bodies around one another like vines to a tree.

  “What are you thinking?” Evan murmured quietly, his breath tickling her nape.

  She couldn’t stop her shiver as the hair escaping her tight bun swirled around her neck. “About getting these papers to Avery on time,” Vania lied, wishing Evan and Drake’s hands were on her.

  Drake moved in closer, surrounding her on the other side, both of them crowding her as the elevator came to a stop. “What happened to your stockings?”

  Her stomach clenched, the combined heat of Drake and Evan spurred on her sexual hunger. “Snagged them.”

  Evan dipped low, touching the bare flesh exposed by the run in her stockings, following it higher and higher until his fingers slipped beneath the hem of her gray pencil skirt. “You’re trembling.”

  Drake’s lips found her ear, his whispered words shocking her so much that she dropped her satchel, spilli
ng its contents on the elevator floor.

  Raising a concerned eyebrow, Drake kneeled and picked up her belongings. “You haven’t done that?”

  She lifted a hand to her chest, thinking her heart would jump out at any second. “Uh, no.”

  “Take deep breaths,” Evan said, leading her from the elevator to his posh but reasonably sized apartment. Its mid-century modern decor reminded her of the club below, but the colors here were deeper, earthier, and without the mirrors and brushed steel. “We’ll get you all taken care of so you can relax.”

  They passed a cashmere, bean-shaped sofa and ottoman overlooking nighttime Sarasota. Vania could spend a week sleeping on that sofa, but the desk next to the kitchen caught her eye. “If you would pull up the contract I emailed you earlier, Evan, you could document-sign and forward it to Avery.”

  “Consider it done, Miss Lange.” His gaze setting her skin afire, he added, “Though I’d rather smell your natural scent, you should soak in the spa.”

  “I’ll bathe after I get home.”

  “Let’s stop pretending you’re going home tonight,” Drake whispered against her neck, kissing where his breath had warmed her skin.

  “We should talk about —"

  “Take it easy, Vania.” Drake lifted her in his arms, the apartment’s cool air stroking beneath her skirt. “It’s just a bath.”

  “As long as you’re here, Baby, doesn’t matter what we do.”

  The elevator sounded.

  “I’ll handle that,” Evan said. “Get Vania comfortable.”

  With a few steps from Drake’s lengthy stride, he reached a spacious bathroom, considering Evan’s apartment was average sized.

  “Does Evan live here all the time?”

  Drake placed her on a cool slate that surrounded a rectangular spa, which could seat five comfortably. “While in Sarasota, he splits half of his time here and the other half at my waterfront bungalow. My place affords Evan privacy on the nights he’s not working.”

  He started the spa. Its low pulsating jets created an instant relaxing hum. “If you’re really wondering if this is Evan’s fuck-pad, come right out and ask.”