He’d been too busy trying to acquire the damn property she’d dangled in front of his face like a carrot. If she understood why he’d inquired about the property, she may not be so quick to give him access, because it was purely for revenge. He wanted to level the damn house and any horrible memories it may still contain. It finally seemed within his sights. He’d known exactly who she was when she’d come in. Particularly the identification of her father. He never would have assumed Marcus Kane’s daughter would beg him for anything, but there she was. Maybe he could use it to his advantage.
“Come in,” he called to whoever was knocking on the door, surprised when Gina Howell slinked into the room. There wasn’t a platinum-blonde hair out of place, and if she breathed wrong in her skintight black dress, her nipples would have popped out. Her ruby red lips smiled, thinking she had him. His cock stirred, remembering a time when she’d sucked him dry. The girl was better than a Hoover, but he wasn’t in the mood for her then, or ever again for that matter. He didn’t do relationships, and she’d tried a couple of blowjobs as an audition for the job, thinking she would pass with flying colors. No pussy was that amazing unless it was dipped in gold, hers included, but she kept trying.
She walked toward him, kissing him on the cheek. “How are you, darling?” she asked in his ear, causing his cock to jump to half-mast.
He scooted his chair back to provide some distance, hoping she got the message, before he answered. “I’m doing well, but I thought I told you to stop calling me darling.”
Never one to heed social cues, Gina moved closer, rubbing her hand down his chest on the fast track to his junk. He grabbed her hand inches from his cock.
“You don’t get to touch me.” He moved her hand away and pushed his chair into his desk. “If you have something to say, you can sit,” he pointed to the chair on the other side, “over there.” Unfazed by her pout as she moved to the other side, he continued. “I’ve told you once we aren’t going there again.”
She licked her lips, thinking she looked sexy, but all she looked was desperate. Her breasts hung half out of her dress while she leaned toward him, but all he remembered were the gorgeous pair he saw on Alexandra, encased so she only hinted at what she was hiding beneath. Like unwrapping a present as opposed to having everything thrust in his face without any mystery. “We were good together, and I know we’ll be damn good in bed.”
“You gave good blowjobs,” he corrected. “I respect you as a member of this club, but that’s all. If you refuse to accept what I’ve told you several times then expect your membership to this club to be revoked. I refuse to sit here and be harassed by you every time you come in here.”
“Oh, really?” She arched her eyebrow, looking down at him as though he was shit on her shoe. Outside these doors, she wouldn’t acknowledge they knew each other, let alone that she begged him to put his dick in her mouth. He rubbed his forehead, weary from it all. “You’re telling me you would kick the wife of one of your richest members out of your club?”
He chuckled. Gina was the one who favored this membership but treated him like he needed her, so she threw her weight around when she thought it would get her what she wanted. “Soon to be the ex-wife once those divorce papers are signed. And he’s told me several times he doesn’t like the scenery. I’m sure he’d thank me when he doesn’t have to continue paying your fees as part of the divorce agreement.”
She crossed her legs, and he was struck by how little he felt by her actions when he’d been ready to throw Alexandra on his desk for the same movement earlier. “How do you know what’s in my divorce agreement?”
He chuckled. “Nothing’s a secret in this town. Privacy is an illusion people use to reassure themselves that the decisions they don’t want people to know about can be hidden.”
She waved him off. “And you sit here in your office and lord over people like you’re the king of the world.”
“I make no apologies for who or what I am. You can take it or leave it. Makes no difference to me. Sex always sells, and I offer people a place to engage in their sexual fetishes with no shame, something you’ve enjoyed.”
Crystal blue eyes flashed fire as she stood tall. “Don’t throw stones if you live in a glass house, Roman.”
He shook his head. “Nobody’s throwing stones. You’re just pissed we’re done.”
“Believe what you want. You’ll get your due.” She stormed out before he could respond. Gina had always been a drama queen, and he should have never gone there. She was a perfect example of why dogs don’t shit where they sleep and similarly why he didn’t fuck clients. The paperwork on his desk held more appeal than another unwanted guest. Paperwork gave him a headache so he usually left it for his brother, but Roman worked through it that night to avoid people.
When he couldn’t avoid it any longer, he left his office to make his nightly walk-through of the club. He moved down the hall past his office into the room that opened up to the main level—a bar where couples could spend time drinking or having sex in one of the dark corners—nodding at his security guys on the way to the lower level. Everything at the club was free, the exorbitant membership fees more than paying for whatever alcohol they consumed. He walked through the open area. Beds, couches, benches, and every available surface were covered with couples in the middle of various sex acts. He barely spared them a glance. It was a little after ten so the club wasn’t too packed, but that would change in the next hour.
The lower level was where most of the action took place. There was a smaller bar in the back corner, but most of the people came down there for one reason. The lighting was darker, a softer glow coming from the overhead lights, giving the illusion of privacy although it was still light enough to see everything happening. There were more places for people to engage in whatever action they chose necessary, as well as swings, a stage, and another area that led to private rooms that could be rented out for the evening or for longer periods of time. He had his own private room, although he rarely used it, preferring to keep his personal life private from his business, but it was convenient to maintain a room there just in case.
“How’s it going tonight?” he asked Marco, his assistant who doubled as head of security, whose expertise made up for his appearance. Too many underground fights left him with a crooked nose and a cauliflower ear, but the guy kept the club running and had saved Roman’s ass a time or two.
“See Ben?” Marco nodded to the corner bed, where one of their newer clients was spread-eagle while one of their wilder members rode him. She was squealing and pinching the nipples of the girl in front of her, who was sitting on what he assumed to be Ben’s face, head slung back and mouth hanging open. Watch it, you’ll catch flies, Roman thought, turning from the group to focus on Marco.
“What’s going on with him?”
“I don’t know if he’s going to work out,” Marco admitted, continuing to watch the room while they talked. Roman prided himself on having a safe and clean club, so after his bookkeeper ran a full background check and the potential member went through testing for diseases from the club’s doctor, they had a ninety-day probationary period to determine whether the club was the best place for them. It was like a test drive, with Roman and the member sitting down to determine whether they should continue their membership following the probationary period.
Basically anything goes in this club as long as it’s consensual and everyone was protected, but you couldn’t always tell from an application if a person would be a good fit. If someone wasn’t working out, like if he or Marco found the person made others uncomfortable, Roman and his brother sat down and made hard decisions. Nothing personal, but business was business, and if someone would fuck with his regular members, Roman would let them go. Besides, once you became a member, you were pretty much in for life unless you broke a rule or refused to pay, so the first ninety days was critical.