Текст книги "Mutually Exclusive"
Автор книги: Charlotte Winston
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Текущая страница: 4 (всего у книги 17 страниц)
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 happened 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.”
“Okay.” She nodded, writing down the new information. Excitement and panic warred within her, because worse than not being able to get your client off, was an innocent man doing another person’s time. She needed to check on all the information, since most people claimed they were innocent, but Corey’s frustration in the whole process was evident. She wanted to believe him. There were times the justice system got it wrong, and she needed to ensure this situation was not one of those times.
Checking her watch, she noted the time. She had to get ready for the night and get her assistant on this case immediately, because Corey’s statement changed the game. She thought she had little chance of being successful before he gave his version, but he raised the stakes by pleading innocence. “Give me a few days to work something out. I’ll need to verify your statement before I consider how to proceed. If I can get you bail, can you make it?”
“Yeah.” He grimaced. “I hate it, but my mama said she’d put up her house.”
Alexandra stood indicating the meeting was over. She was hammering out a list she needed to get done in her mind. “She’s a great woman. I am going to get you outta this, but so help me God, if you are lying to me—”
“I’m not,” he insisted.
“Good enough. I’m going to see you at your arraignment tomorrow, and we’ll get bail worked out for you.”
He nodded, a spark coming into his eyes for the first time since he’d entered the room. A guard came in, escorting him out. Alexandra waited until the guard took him before collapsing back in the chair, rubbing the back of her neck to relieve some of the stress. Go figure. She had a potentially innocent client, another who had so much money he could wipe his ass with it and still have more, and a man who wanted her for sex later that night. Eight could not come quick enough.
Alexandra called her assistant after leaving her meeting with Corey requesting Karen to gather the required information. She went home early to give time to pamper herself, shave her naughty bits, and primp and prep so she was ready to go to the club on time. Roman didn’t strike her as the type of man who tolerated tardiness of any kind, so she made sure she arrived about ten minutes before. Knocking on the door, which felt like déjà vu, she considered all that had happened in the last several days. No Neck answered, same as before, but this time he didn’t even question her presence; he moved aside so she could pass.
The click of her three inch hells was the only sound in the creepy hallway. She’d dressed to draw attention, wearing a nude lace dress with a slit up the side. Looking up to where she believed the camera to be, she blew a kiss before turning the corner. The office door opened before she could get to it. Roman emerged, looking good enough to eat in a powder-blue button-down and dark jeans with his hair slicked back and out of his face.
“I see you made it.” He grinned, holding out his hand for hers. She complied, saying nothing as he put the hand to his lips, kissing it softly. He moved her hand back down, still holding her at arm’s length, twirling his finger around for her. She spun slowly so he could take in the full effect of the dress, but with the slit down the side, the generous V in the front to showcase her breasts, and the back cut out to the top of her butt, there wasn’t much fabric. She stood with her back to him, waiting for Roman to direct her. This was his show. He stayed silent, leaving her with the sweet ache of anticipation until his chest pressed into her back.
“This dress,” he breathed, moving her hair to one side, exposing one shoulder before kissing it, “should be illegal.” She hummed, elongating her neck to the side to give him greater access, acutely aware of the way he licked, kissed, and bit the side of her neck. Barely holding herself upright, she leaned back so she was propped up by his chest, breathing heavily with unfulfilled desire. She thought she’d only imagined their original connection, but she still felt the same electricity shoot through her at his kiss.
“Should we,” Roman bit her ear, making her shudder, “take this somewhere else?” She simply nodded, missing his warmth when he moved from behind her to grab her hand and pull her down the hallway past his offices. They passed a bar area and went down the steps, not stopping—though she could have used a shot of tequila to calm her nerves—eventually walking toward the hallway. He pushed open the door, indicating she could go in first.
She didn’t know what she expected, maybe something out of a BSDM novel complete with a wall of whips and chains, but she wouldn’t have guessed the room would be so normal. The focal point was the California king with the nondescript black silk sheets and white and black comforter. It felt like a cloud when she pressed her hand on the top of it, prompting her to sink down on it with her arms spread out on either side.
“No you don’t,” Roman chided. “I’ve got plans for you.” He grabbed her hands and pulled her up to a sitting position. Ignoring her groan for being pulled up from one of the best beds she’d ever lain on, he allowed her to take in the rest of the room. There were no windows, but there was a television on one wall, a couple doors, a dresser off to the side, and two bedside tables. If she didn’t know any better, she’d think they were in his house, exploring his bedroom for the first time.
She found his stare unnerving when she directed her attention back to him. His green eyes burned, staring straight through her when she asked, “What is this place?”
He walked toward her, grabbing her underneath her chin, pushing it up so her face was tilted up toward his. Leaning down, he brushed his lips over hers before moving back. She could still feel his breath on her lips, smell the minty scent of his breath when he whispered, “This place? It’s my own personal playground.”
