“There’s no fooling you. Are you going to buy me a drink?”
Colton glared at her. “In there? Absolutely not.”
Muttering under her breath, she started toward the taxi. But before she reached the vehicle, Colton grabbed her and swung her around. His heated intensity excited her. She glanced at his mouth. God, she desperately wanted to kiss him.
“This club isn’t what you think it is.” When he pulled her close, his whiskey breath warmed her face and heated her insides.
She held his heated gaze as the intensity swirled around them. “Oh, it’s a strip club. Well, girls shaking their titties and hanging from a pole do not intimidate me. Maybe I’ll get some pointers.”
“You need no pointers,” he murmured.
He paid the taxi and reclaimed his hold on her arm. “I use the name Spencer Lockhart. Do not call me by my real name. Can you manage that?”
She arched a brow. “Only if you don’t call me by mine.”
Colton rapped on the door and the super-sized man opened it. “All set?”
Colton tossed him a nod.
“Should I reserve a room for you this evening?” the man asked.
“No,” Colton bit out.
The man stepped aside. “Welcome to Uninhibited.”
For a Thursday night in Georgetown, the swanky lounge wasn’t that busy. There were no naked women and no poles. Brigit scanned the room for high-powered clients, but there were none of those, either. Black linens covered the candlelit tables and the servers wore pristine white shirts, black vests and black pants. With a vise grip on her arm, Colton guided her to the bar and gestured for her to sit. She slid onto the cushioned stool.
“Your Glenlivet, Mr. Lockhart.” The bartender set the glass on a napkin. “What can we get you, ma’am?”
Brigit kept her gaze firmly on Colton. “Spencer knows what I like.”
“A glass of your best pinot noir, Scotty.” Rather than sitting, Colton stood with his hand on the back of her barstool, as if shielding her view. She tilted her face to peek at him from beneath her lashes. “Playing coy won’t work.” His tone was still frigid.
“Where are the dancing nudies?”
The bartender placed a wine goblet on the napkin in front of her and showed Colton the bottle’s label.
“Your expert taste buds will like this one,” he said to Brigit before tossing Scotty a nod. The bartender uncorked the bottle and poured the dark liquid into her glass.
“Here’s to a productive day.” She lifted the glass, toasted his, then tipped the wine into her mouth. Berry and caramel flavors burst onto her tongue. She closed her eyes. I needed that. The day had been grueling, stressful and a game changer in so many ways. On a sigh, she opened her eyes. He’d sat and was staring into his drink, his hair obscuring his face. Before she could check herself, she brushed it away.
He grabbed her hand and swiveled on the barstool. “I’ve never met anyone so unequivocally—”
“Charming, beautiful, intelligent, headstrong.” She gave him a playful smile.
“I was going to say annoying.” Colton tossed back the remains of his drink.
Brigit snickered. “Even better.”
“I want to kiss you,” he murmured and released her hand. “So fucking badly.”
Not as much as I want to kiss you. Brigit shook her head. “Not happening. We agreed. Plus, you’re my client and I’m not even attracted to you.” Yeah, right.
She cradled her glass to keep from wrapping her fingers around his bicep and eating him alive in a kiss that went on and on and on. As she gazed into his fiery eyes, an explosive need shot straight to her core. Oh, God, I want him.
“I don’t believe you,” he whispered.
She hated that he was right. Erotic thoughts drew her toward him and she ran her tongue over her tingling mouth. The tip of his index finger glided over her lower lip. As if under a hypnotic spell, her mouth parted. She wanted to take his finger into her mouth and suck, but she wouldn’t. She couldn’t.
“Can I get you a another Glenlivet, Mr. Lockhart?” the bartender asked.
Interrupted, his hand fell to the bar and he severed eye contact. “No thanks, Scotty.” Colton’s phone chirped and he fished it from his breast pocket.
Brigit tossed back a mouthful of wine and leaned against the back of the barstool. What on earth was she thinking, following Colton to his club? She’d never looked twice at any other client, yet she couldn’t stay away from this one. And this one was the enemy, no less. She took another full sip, relishing the robust bouquet, then realized she had to use the restroom.
With Colton busy texting, she walked to the back of the club and tugged open the door. Wall lamps hung over each of the arched doorways, but there were no restroom signs. Hoping she’d get lucky, she entered the closest room on the right.
About twenty people stood huddled in a semi-circle with their backs to her. Welcome to Antarctica was painted across the back wall. Brigit edged forward. Is this a co-ed bathroom line? She walked to the far end and stopped short. This was no line to anywhere.
No, no way. Her mouth fell open. She’d found the dancing nudies, but they were doing a hell of a lot more than dancing. Two young women, both naked and sprawled in a graphic position on the couch, were going at it like their lives depended on it.
“Whoa,” she whispered as her hand flew to her mouth.
The women’s moans and cries escalated to squeals of quivering delight. The audience clapped as they tumbled into an embrace. As the crowd thinned, they hopped off and draped themselves in full-length fur coats, which had been piled in a heap on the floor.
Brigit hadn’t moved. Colton is a complicated man with unusual needs.
“Good show, don’t you think?” asked a man standing next to her. “You interested in using the couch next?”
27
Colton’s Dirty Little Secret
“Oh, shit,” Colton bit out.
Brigit was gone. Dammit. I shouldn’t have taken my eyes off her. Colton left a Benjamin on the bar, then strode to the back of the room and opened the door. Ten rooms, five on each side, lined the hallway. And that was just this floor. The private rooms were upstairs. She could be anywhere. He strode into the first room on the left. A small group watched two women and a man having sex on a man-made beach. No Brigit.
He walked across the hall and exhaled a relieved breath. Brigit was firmly rooted in place near the sofa with some guy standing too damn close. Two seconds later, Colton laid a possessive hand over her shoulder and pulled her to him. You must have gotten an eyeful and one hell of an invitation.
“She’s not available,” Colton said.
“If she were mine, I wouldn’t leave her alone for a New York minute.” The stranger threw his hands up in surrender. “But hey, no problem.” He moseyed out of the room.
“What the hell are you doing?” Colton growled.
Brigit darted to her tiptoes, brushed aside his hair and whispered, “I need to pee.”
He almost laughed. He’d come here to unwind and forget about the mountain of trouble facing him with MobiCom. How had the opposite happened?
Brigit.
He gripped her hand and tugged her out of the room and down the hallway, quickly passing the open doorways. “You’ll get whiplash if you keep jerking your head like that.”
“You’re walking so fast, I can’t see inside the rooms.”
“That’s the idea.” He stopped in front of the ladies room. “I’ll wait here.”
“You might want to check to make sure there’s no naked women on sofas in here. If there are, I might be a while.” With a smirk, she walked in.
Pressing the sole of his shoe against the wall, he slipped his hands into his pockets. She’s one hot handful. Since the age of ten, Colton’s need for control had turned into an obsession. But controlling Brigit was impossible. As soon as Big D had told him a hot chick who wouldn’t take no for an answer was waiting outside, he had to see her. Anyone e
lse would have gotten the boot, but there was something exhilarating about feeling a little out of control whenever she was by his side. Brigit’s unpredictability aroused the hell out of him.
From his vantage point, she’d done him a favor by forcing him to expose his fetish sooner than planned. Based on her shocked expression, she’d seen plenty. Now that she’d glimpsed his fucked-up world, she’d stay clear of him and that would solve his nagging need to have her by his side every damn moment. Brigit Farnay was his newest employee—his wealth manager, no less. His life needed no additional complications. Keep your distance, Mitus.
She opened the bathroom door and stepped so close he could see the bright golden flecks in her eyes. “Much better, even without the wild sofa girls. Are you going to show me around your sex club?”
Desire surged through him and he started to harden. It would be too damn easy to take her face in his hands and kiss those luscious lips. Instead, he kept his hand in his pockets. He’d come here alone to be alone. He sure as hell wasn’t going to invite Brigit to watch alongside him. “You’ve seen plenty.”
She rose on her tiptoes. “I’ve never seen a show like that.”
“I would imagine not.” Women walked in and out of the restroom, making it impossible to have an intimate conversation. “It’s late and we’ve had a long day.”
Rejection flashed across her face.
Dammit. He didn’t want to hurt her. “I’m trying to do the right thing here,” he murmured. With a light hand on her back, he guided her toward the front door.
“Leaving so soon?” asked Big D.
Colton pressed a folded hundred into his palm. “Thanks for tonight, Big D.”
Big D pushed open the door. “You betcha, Mr. Lockhart.”
Colton and Brigit stepped into the chilly night. He removed his suit jacket and covered her shoulders. “I’m parked across the street.”
She furrowed her brow, but didn’t move. “Why do you belong to a club like this?”
“It’s complicated.”
“I dated this guy who needed porn to get aroused,” she said as she searched his face. “But that’s not you.”
“You arouse me, every time you’re near,” he murmured. A smile ghosted across her lips as Thursday night foot traffic tromped by. She liked that.
“So, is that why there are so many cameras in your home?” Shivering, she pulled his jacket closed.
His guts churned. She thinks I’m a predator. “Chad recommended the surveillance system to ensure our safety. There are no cameras in the bedroom suites, but even if there were, I would never spy on my employees. My interests involve willing participants.”
“I’m sorry.” Brigit broke eye contact. “I didn’t think you were spying.”
“It’s okay. The club wasn’t what you were expecting.”
Pinning him with a sultry gaze, she scooted closer and her coconut scent wafted in his direction. “And what do you do with these willing participants?” she whispered.
Debating, he stared into her eyes for a long moment while the electricity swirled around them. “I like watching strangers fuck.” Colton clenched his jaw muscles and waited. Would she resign on the spot? Would she lose all respect for him? Of one thing he was certain. Brigit Farnay wouldn’t hold back.
She slicked her tongue across her lower lip. “That’s so erotic.”
Mother of fuck, what was this woman doing to him? Her raspy voice made his balls ache. He hardened and sparks burned a heated trail through him. God, he wanted her. Desperate to kiss her, he pulled her into his arms. Do the right thing. Pressing his lips to her forehead, he closed his eyes and breathed her sweet scent. Then he released his hold. That about killed him.
Slowly, she opened her eyes. They were black with desire.
She’s making it impossible to stay away. They walked in silence to his car. She’d barged into his world and yet here she was, by his side. Was there nothing he could say to keep her at a safe, respectable distance? He opened the passenger door.
Instead of getting in, she stared into his eyes. “If I thought you were a monster, it wouldn’t be because of this.” After handing him his jacket, she dipped into the vehicle.
He draped his jacket on the backseat, then slid into the driver’s seat. “Buckle up.”
She belted herself. “Did you start with magazines and porn?”
Heading toward Virginia, he remained quiet. He should change the subject. Discuss work. Turn the tables and barrage her with a stream of questions. Hell, he’d hired her no questions asked even though her mysterious past had violently landed in her living room.
At the red light, their eyes met in the darkened car. “No magazines, no movies.” Though he’d guarded the origin of his secret from the world, he wanted her to know. “My childhood was complicated and challenging.”
“Mine was a little weird, too. I doubt we could find a person who could stake a claim on normal.”
“Tell me about your childhood.”
“I was an only child. My parents obsessed over me and encouraged me to excel.”
That’s it? A quick glance over, then he accelerated when the light changed. “That doesn’t sound so bad.”
“When I was three, I was reading at the first-grade level, and I’m no brainchild. Spreadsheets by five, and I probably could have managed a sales division by fourteen.” She looked at him. “It was intense. Like living in a pressure cooker, every moment of every day.”
“You turned out okay. Better than okay, actually.”
“Thanks.” She touched his shoulder and raw desire pulsed through him. He wanted her so fucking badly. “How about some quid pro quo?”
Don’t do it. “When I was nine I saw my dad having sex.” Refusing to look at her, he took the ramp onto the parkway.
“Your parents must have freaked out.”
“My dad wasn’t having sex with my mom. He was screwing someone else.”
“Oh, wow,” she whispered. “That’s messed up.”
“My mom had gone back to work when my sister was in first grade. She’d gotten her Realtor’s license and worked weekends. My dad claimed to be working from home, so my mom arranged for my siblings and me to be at friends’ houses for playdates. I got home early one afternoon and spied him screwing some woman. There was a different woman each weekend. And once there were two at the same time. He was fucked up. I think he knew I was spying and he liked it.”
What was it about this woman that made him want to spill his guts? Colton glanced at her. “I’ve said too much.”
“Do you think you’re the first client who’s ever confided in their wealth manager? All our discussions are confidential.” Again she reached out and touched him, this time caressing his arm.
Her tender touch helped quiet the storm raging within. “My confiding in you has nothing to do with the fact that you manage my money.”
“No child should have to suffer through that,” she murmured as she removed her hand.
“Watching became my dirty little obsession. I was angry, confused, and conflicted over whether I should tell my mom. Yet I had this hard-on and a fucked-up solution of what to do with it.”
“That’s a lot for a little boy. Plus, a ruined relationship with your dad.”
Colton tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “There was no relationship. My dad was the meanest son of a bitch I’d ever met. Watching him screw all those women was the nail in the coffin.”
“I’m sorry that happened to you,” she whispered. “Thank you for trusting me. I’ll never betray that confidence, Colton.”
He’d shared a twenty-three-year-old secret and she’d thrown him a lifeline. “Thank you.”
“Did you ever talk with anyone? You know, to help you work through it?”
“No one.” He glanced in her direction. “Until you.”
28
Fornication Nation
The treadmill was on the last leg of the preprogrammed workout and Brigit felt the burn. But n
o matter how fast she jogged she couldn’t outrun her thoughts. It was late afternoon on Friday and she’d somehow made it through her first workweek at Mitus Conglomerate. Even with the stress of returning home to Francesco, the unknown whereabouts of Vinny Ray, and MobiCom’s acquisition play, she couldn’t stop thinking about Colton’s painful childhood and the abuse inflicted by his dad.
Earlier that afternoon, she’d forwarded Colton her summary report of his wealth overview. She’d have no problem freeing up thirty million. Her challenge? She disagreed with his current investments. The lack of direction was reflected in his meager earnings. Her immediate and five-year plans would revitalize his lackluster portfolio. Based on his need for control, she did not look forward to that meeting.
The machine completed the cooldown lap and slowed to a stop. After stepping off, Taylor—spinning nowhere fast—shouted, “I’ll come get you.”
With a thumbs up, Brigit headed upstairs to shower and dress. Tonight, Colton was throwing a Halloween party in the lower level Tapestry room. Though she loved dressing in costume, the Clothing Czar mandated formal wear and masquerade masks, neither of which she had.
She walked upstairs and down the hallway toward her bedroom. Propped against her closed door was a medium-sized box gift-wrapped with a black velvet ribbon. She brought it into her room and shut the door.
An elegant, hand-painted masquerade mask rested on a fluffy pillow of black tissue paper. How sexy. Rich, robust shades of red, gold and black popped against a bright white papier-mâché background. This gift included a handwritten note.
Dear Brigit,
I thought of you when I saw this beautiful mask.
Please wear it to the party tonight.
Colton
She smiled. The Clothing Czar could be quite charming.
After showering, Brigit dressed in the black satin couture gown with the burgundy lace overlay, still hanging in her closet. Since she’d brought no gowns, she had little choice. But as soon as she slipped it on, she felt like a princess.
THE MITUS TOUCH: Book One of The Touch Series Page 16