There’s
nothing clean about what he’s proposing. Let him spy on my
members during their most intimate moments? The club is supposed to
be a place for people to lose all their inhibitions and worries,
without consequence. Nikolai is proposing that I allow him full
access to the suites and rooms.
Even I don’t know what goes
on inside.
“This
is your last warning,” I tell him. I stand aside, and let
Griffin hustle out the fake workmen. “Keep the fuck away from
my club, or there’ll be trouble.”
“Oh
yeah?” Nikolai smirks. “What kind of trouble could a guy
like you possibly cause me?”
I give him a steely smile. “I
didn’t spend years at your right hand without learning a thing
or two. Like where certain accounts are hidden, or what dealings got
done under the table. How are the guys in Miami?” I add,
casual.
Nikolai
tenses. “You ought to be careful what you say, son. Old loyalty
will only take you so far, and I’ve just about had enough of
your games.”
“I’m
not the one playing games,” I tell him. “Get off my
property, and don’t let me catch any of your goons here again.
This is finished.”
I slam the door behind me and go
back upstairs.
Griffin
follows, whistling. “Guys like that don’t just give up
and walk away, not when they want something this bad.”
“I
know.” I think hard, but there’s no solution. I refuse to
sell out my clients, whoever they are, but Nikolai won’t quit
now. “You still got those friends from the old days?” I
ask.
“My
old squad?” Griffin nods.
“See
if you can get a couple down here,” I say, with a sinking
feeling in my chest. “Double up security for now. I need this
place protected.”
He
nods, and heads back to his office. I look around. In daylight, it’s
just another exclusive club, but after dark... this place becomes a
playground for everyone who needs an escape. They trust me with their
secrets, their lives.
But now those secrets are
catching up with me.
Nikolai.
Zoe. God knows who else. Too many people wanting to know exactly
what’s hidden behind the cloak of anonymity.
Just how much are these secrets
worth? I wonder, looking around. And how long can I keep them hidden
when the whole world wants to tear it all down?
ZOE
I’m
up to my elbows in silk and spandex.
“What
about this one?” Tasha asks, emerging from the store dressing
room. “Too slutty right?”
She strikes a pose in a scrap of
slinky white silk.
“It’s...hot,”
I offer. “Just depends if hot is what you want for this
audition.”
Tasha
makes a face. “I don’t know! This callback is like the
biggest break I’ve gotten since moving to the city. I want
everything to be perfect!”
“Well, what did they tell
you to wear?”
Tasha rolls her eyes. “They
never say. Some girls just show up in plain black, so they don’t
distract from their performance, but I say, if you’re going to
do it, you need to do it right. Maybe I should try the red again?”
She disappears back into the
dressing room.
I
look around. The luxury store is full of rich housewives and
snooty-looking staff. They keep shooting me dirty looks, as if they
can tell that my bank account would barely pay for a button on one of
these dresses.
Especially
now that I’m out of a story – and a job.
“Better
or worse?” Tasha steps out again, this time looking like a
classic
femme fatale
.
“I like it. I like all of
them!”
“Some help,” Tasha
grins. She checks her reflection. “You know, the director was
pretty cute. And he couldn’t stop staring at my ass.”
“There you go,” I
laugh. “If you miss out on the role, maybe you’ll still
get a date.”
Tasha
snorts. “I want both. What about you?” she asks, going to
browse another rack of designer dresses. “Any eligible guys at
that club of yours?”
I
pause.
You mean aside from
the dangerously sexy man who delivered an incredible orgasm but hates
my guts right now?
When I don’t respond, Tasha
turns to me with a wicked grin. “Or are you still seeing the
boss?”
“We,
uh, broke it off,” I tell her. It’s not exactly a lie.
“But it’s fine. I’m focusing on the job hunt. I
need a new gig – I kind of got fired,” I admit.
“No!”
she exclaims. “I’m sorry, babe. I can hook you up with my
agency if you need. Like I said, you have to put up with some
assholes, but the money’s great.”
“Thanks.
Who knows, maybe I’ll have to take you up on it if I don’t
get this mess with Dax sorted out.”
“Tell
me about these problems with Sexy Boss Man,” Tasha teases.
“You’re really upset about this, I can tell. You didn’t
tell me you liked him, liked him.”
“I
don’t.” I say, covering quickly. “Things just got
messed up between us, pretty bad.”
Tasha
comes to sit beside me, and I can tell by the look of sympathy on her
face that she doesn’t believe me. “What happened?”
“Nothing. It’s just…”
I take a breath. “I screwed up at work, and now he hates me.”
“I’m
sure
he doesn’t hate you, Zoe,” she soothes. “What’d
you do that was so bad?”
“I
lied,” I admit. “Big time.” I don’t want to
tell her the whole story, but maybe she can help. “But I need
him to trust me again. So how can I fix it? Should I even try?”
I
owe Dax nothing, we weren’t even having a relationship, but
still, I know I’ve done something wrong by sneaking around
under false pretenses. Sure, it was fun and sexy going undercover,
but it got serious real fast. And instead of coming clean, I betrayed
him.
“Aww,”
she pats my hand sympathetically, then puts a glass of fitting room
champagne in it. I take a fortifying gulp-- I guess these ritzy shops
do have their good points. “You’ll figure it out, Zoe.
But you have to try. Look how upset you are. He’s probably
waiting on your move.”
“I
don’t think so.” I take another sip, feeling guilty. “He
never wants to speak to me again. What do I do?” I ask, feeling
awkward asking for advice.
“Have
you tried apologizing?”
“Yup.
He won’t even listen,” I sigh. Dax strikes me as the kind
of guy to stick to his guns. He’s not just going to turn around
at the drop of an ‘I’m sorry’ and say we’re
all good again.
“So
make
him listen.” Tasha gets up again. “Give him what he wants
most,” she adds with a wink, before sashaying back into the
dressing room.
What he wants most...
I think hard. Dax has been
stressed since the moment I met him -- and all because of these
anonymous notes. He wants to find out who’s threatening him.
Which means if I can deliver that name to him, he might give me the
time of day.
I can get back on the inside for
my story again, and shake my guilt, all in one move.
For
the first time in days, I feel some hope. I rummage in my purse and
pull out the card I found in his apartment. Dimas Developments. It’s
not much, but I need to start somewhere.
“Are you OK finishing up
here alone?” I call to Tasha. “I have some work to do.”
“Sure, go ahead.”
Tasha sticks her head out. “I can’t decide, so I’ll
just get both!”
*
Armed
with just the business card and company name, I decide to do some
old-school sleuthing. I head to City Hall, and spend hours combing
through company registration records before I find the filing for
Dimas: CEO, Nikolai Dimas. I check the names against business
licenses and property deeds, until finally something pops.
Nikolai
was an early investor in Dax’s first club.
Interesting.
I
look for more recent activity, and finally find it. Dimas has been
buying up buildings down by the waterfront.
I’ve
been stuck down here in the records vault all afternoon, so I take
the info and go see the place for myself. The neighborhood is pretty
run-down and sketchy: tenement buildings, and busted warehouse lots.
I walk the streets and wonder why someone would be pouring money into
this part of town: there’s no subway, no coffee shops or
stores, and no office buildings either. And the waterfront is a
no-build zone: it’s all environmental protection, nothing but
ugly wetlands too.
What
is Dimas up to?
Down
the block, I can see someone hauling trash bags full of possessions
out of one of the buildings on my list, so I go over to check it out.
It’s a harried-looking woman, trying to pack three kids and a
bunch of boxes into a rusting old car.
“Here,
let me help,” I say, grabbing one of the bags.
She looks at me suspiciously,
until I put it in the car. “Thanks,” she says slowly.
“You guys moving?” I
ask in a friendly voice.
She nods. “Not like we have
a choice.”
“You got evicted?”
“They
tried. Got half the building out, but our lease runs ‘til the
end of the year,” she explains, “They can’t make us
go. I checked with Legal Aid. So they just turned the water off
instead, had their guys come play loud music all night next door
until we couldn’t take anymore. My kids need to sleep, you
know?”
“That’s
terrible,” I gasp. “Who would do something like that?”
“Nobody
nice.” The woman shakes her head. “These guys, they care
about nothing except money. I heard they’re tearing the
building down, putting up luxury condos.”
“Do you have someplace to
go?” I frown.
“My
sister’s place, in New Jersey.” She looks worn-out. “But
then I have to get to work here, every day. Hector!” she yells,
to one of the kids playing in the street. “Don’t touch
that!”
I
help her load up the car. “I’m sorry this happened. Good
luck with the new place,” I offer, feeling helpless.
She
glances past me, and her gaze turns fearful. “You shouldn’t
be asking questions around here,” she says quickly, “Come
on, kids.”
I
turn to see what made her scared. A couple of guys are loitering on
the other side of the street, watching us. They’re
tough-looking, muscular and scowling. One of them pulls out his phone
and makes a call.
The woman shoves the kids in the
car and drives away, but the men don’t move. They stay there,
watching me.
I quickly start walking in the
other direction, but when I turn back to check, the men are following
me: slowly strolling, about half a block back.
I walk quicker, almost breaking
into a run as I head for a busier area. One block, two… every
step I take, I’m scared to turn in case they’re drawing
near. When I see a busy intersection up ahead, I could cry with
relief. I turn the corner and quickly dash into a Dollar Store. I
hang back in the aisles, checking through the window until the men
walk past.
I sag back, my heart pounding.
Who were they? And what did they want?
Maybe
I’m being paranoid, but this Dimas stuff is setting me on edge.
The more questions I ask, the deeper I get-- and something tells me,
the answers won’t be pretty.
But I have to keep digging. For
Dax.
DAX
After blowing up at Dominique, I
try my best to keep my temper at the club and not cause any more
scenes. I stay in my office, away from the party atmosphere, and
think hard.
Nikolai
isn’t going anywhere, but even now that I know exactly what he
wants - leverage over this politician -- I’m still no closer to
a solution. Sneaking those security workmen in here was a bold move,
and it would have paid off for him if I hadn’t caught them at
the last minute.
I
came so close to fucking up big-time, and all because I was too
focused on Zoe to pay attention to what’s right in front of me.
Zoe.
I see a flash of her blue eyes in
my mind, and those juicy lips parted in a sinful moan.
I can’t get her out of my
head.
I
pull my laptop closer and run a quick search, typing the name she
told me into the search box. For a split-second, I wonder if even
that was true, but then the results start piling up. Investigative
reporting articles, photos of her on the staff of the college
newspaper. No wonder she came up with a fake identity -- I would have
busted her in a heartbeat with this résumé!
Through my anger, I can’t
help but feel a stab of admiration. Coming here undercover was a
gutsy move. It shows she’s smart, and resourceful too.
Not to mention lying and
manipulative.
I
slam the laptop shut. I didn’t expect to feel so betrayed.
Women have tried to screw me over before, and I never dwelt on it. I
just put them aside, and move on. But for some reason, Zoe’s
duplicity keeps burning at me.
I saw something in her. A
stubborn ambition that just wouldn’t quit.
It reminded me of myself.
A
knock breaks through my thoughts, and then the door opens. My buddy,
Cam, leans in holding a bottle of scotch. “I heard you were
sulking back here,” he says cheerfully, then enters the room.
“Glenlivet twenty year.”
“I know,” I reply
wryly. “I ordered it in stock myself.”
Cam
pours us both a drink and then settles back in a seat. He looks past
me to the two-way mirror I have installed, giving me a front-seat
view of the main room of the club. “I don’t see your
waitress working tonight,” he says, giving me a sly look.
“She’s
not
my
waitress, and I fired her.” I gulp the scotch.
Cam raises his eyebrow. “Damn.
I was hoping to watch you guys go another round. I don’t think
I’ve ever seen anyone talk back to you like that,” he
adds with a smile.
I grit my teeth. “It’s
not a good thing.”