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Eric was not only cheating on me, but he was also bisexual?
"Who is Eric Patterson to you?" I hadn't missed the way she'd involuntarily flinched when his name had been mentioned.
She lifted her chin. "My soon-to-be-former fiancé."
"I'm guessing he doesn't know you're here?"
"You'd guess correctly."
She had spunk; I'd give her that. "What are the pictures for?"
"Well, nothing says insurance better than a photo of your former fiancé banging another woman while getting it in the hip at the same time by a dude."
____________
Daniella
I took a deep breath and smoothed down my wig, thinking the bright pink hair actually made my blue eyes stand out more than did my natural auburn locks. The shimmering silver, barely-covering-my-hip dress and my thigh-high, black suede boots completed the look. Although not quite. Because I was feeling festive and maybe because I needed some metaphoric balls tonight, I put on a pair of ornament earrings.
After all, I was heading to a Christmas party, one being held three days before the holiday. And I wanted to look my absolute best when busting my fiancé for cheating on me.
Yeah, nothing said Merry Christmas quite like sticking your shaft in some other chick right before coming home to your loving fiancée for the holidays.
Stuck in the city working on an unfortunate project until tomorrow morning.
God, how many times over the last year had I fallen for Eric's lines about working late? Too many.
Though we shared a rented townhouse in New Jersey, I'd always been supportive of him keeping an apartment in Manhattan. I'd felt terrible about him having to schlep all the way home after a late night at work. But now I knew better. Too bad I'd already wasted two years with him, but I was determined not to squander one more day.
Of course, I could've waited to confront him at home, but I knew he'd deny it. I'd also lose the advantage of having evidence. So I was going to a party tonight that I knew he'd be attending in order to gather the undeniable proof.
Club Travesty didn't boast a flashy entrance. Matter of fact, it was tough to find. I imagined it would be even harder to gain entry into tonight's Christmas party. Which is why I'd cloned Eric's membership card. I'd found it in his inside jacket pocket late one evening when he'd forgotten to take it out. That had been his second misstep. The first was leaving a brochure in his glove compartment which had started my suspicions about this club he belonged to. Then, of course, he'd clearly underestimated me. He had no clue I'd be able to access his online credit card account, discover where the card had been used, and utilize parking stubs to figure out the address of the place. At which point, I'd hacked into his email to see the invitation.
Now that I was taking the fake membership card out of my purse, I fought the nerves. I was good with a computer and details—I'd managed fake ID's in college for me and all my friends—but there was always a chance I'd be caught at the door. Guess Plan B would have to consist of Eric coming home to find I'd moved out all of my things earlier today.
Smiling at the large man in the black suit with the closely cropped hair at the door, I handed him my card. I watched him scan it while trying to steady my heartbeat. The idea of catching Eric in the act made me anxious. But even more did I worry about entering a intercourse club holiday party for God only knows what. I wondered if I'd thought this through. I mean what if everyone attending was part of an orgy? Or all of a sudden, I became a submissive for a man in a mask with a whip while "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer" blasted in the background?
Considering how boring my intercourse life with Eric had been, I'd be lying if I said either thought didn't turn me on a little. Matter of fact, disguised as I was and about to be very single, I found myself eager to see what was inside the club.
Coming out of my weird, holiday-themed, intercourse-deprived thoughts, I saw the green light flash and smiled at the bouncer who'd allowed me entry. Whew. I'd made it in. But now what?
Now to look like I belonged here. I wasn't sure what I'd expected, but classy chandeliers, posh carpets, and a beautiful Christmas tree front and center hadn't been it. I stepped past the entrance and deeper inside by way of a short hallway. I found myself in the middle of a party. Waitresses in barely-there tuxedo one-piece rompers served champagne while soft holiday music played in the background. So much for a raunchy intercourse dungeon. I adjusted my mask. My simple black one was nothing compared to some of the more ornate masks I could see around the room.
For a moment, I started to think I might have been mistaken about what type of party this was. Then I noticed the people congregating near the glass on the far side of the room.
Stepping closer to the window, I sucked in a breath. Rooms with glass from floor to ceiling had people on display in various intercourse acts. The one in front of me boasted two gorgeous women, one of whom was on her back while the other devoured her between her thighs.
Walking down a few feet, I saw the next room featured two men and one woman. She had one shaft in her mouth and the other pumping deep inside of her from behind, fast and furious. I was fascinated and hard-pressed to move on from it. But I had to remember I was here for a purpose and tore my eyes away to step down to the next room. I wasn't a prude by any stretch, despite the boring intercourse I'd been having with my fiancé, but the next scene shocked my senses. In this room a man plowed into a woman missionary-style while another man went to town, thrusting into the first man's hip.
I was about to move on when my gaze locked on the eyes of the man in the middle. The mask made it hard to determine for sure, but the unmistakable birth mark on his left pec absolutely identified him. Eric was not only cheating on me, but he was also bisexual?
I slid out my flash-drive-sized camera and tried to get the right angle. I wanted to get Eric's masked face along with the unmistakable birth mark: tangible evidence. I'd need it since there wasn't exactly a way I could confront him at the moment. Not unless I wanted to bang against the glass and whip off my mask. Although tempting, I would rather show him the proof with the photo. This ought to get his cooperation in returning the money he owed me, my true priority.
I'd given him seventy-five thousand dollars out of my savings to go towards a down payment on the house we planned to buy together. Hindsight made me feel stupid for having trusted him, but when you think you'll spend the rest of your life with someone, what was transferring your savings for your dream home? Unfortunately, my sleuthing revealed he'd spent the money instead of putting it in his nonexistent savings. Evidently, he was a cheater all the way around.
Tucking the camera in my purse and giving one last glance toward Eric, I was about to turn and make my way out when a hand clamped on my elbow and a low voice came in my ear.
"Miss, please follow me."
The man's grip wasn't leaving me much of a choice. A tank in a suit, he was careful, however, make it look as though he was merely guiding me through the crowd. But when he led me into a cleverly hidden elevator near the bar, I had a moment of panic.
"Where are you taking me?"
"To see the boss, ma'am."
"Um, why is that?"
"Don't know, but I reckon you'll find out soon enough."
His Southern voice might be soothing, but his words weren't. Had they figured out my ID was fake? Or had they spotted the camera? Either way, I was pretty sure I was screwed. And not in a good, intercourse-club kind of way.
Shane
Finances didn't wait, not even for Christmas week. This was why, instead of enjoying the party downstairs, I was up in my office crunching numbers, frustrated with our part-time accountant's work or lack thereof. The IRS year-end deadline was looming, but instead of making my profit-and-loss statement his priority tonight, he was downstairs partaking in the festivities. Which is probably what I should have been doing. But ironically, as one of the owners of Club Travesty, I had very little time to indulge in the club's activities.
"Hey, Boss, you coming down?" Heather, my bar manager and long-time loyal employee, came up the stairs. The open loft-like space held both my desk and my best friend's, in addition to a round table and chairs I used for meetings.
I held my head, wanting the break but not in the mood for celebration. Looking up, I tried not to let the stress show. "Not yet. Everything going all right?"
She nodded. "Yep. Good crowd tonight. rooms are hot. Matter of fact, I might be up for something later if, uh, you are."
I forced myself to scan Heather, with her bustier lifting her fake boobs and cinching her tiny waist, and tight leather pants encasing her toned legs. Her hair was long and blond, both of which weren't natural, but it did make her look younger than her thirty-eight birthdays. We'd done acts together over the years, but it had been a while. Mainly because I'd been worried she'd started to catch feelings after the last time. I didn't do feelings with intercourse.
Regardless, my shaft should have stirred. It didn't. I blamed the numbers in front of me. "Maybe some other time, honey." The last thing I wanted to do was hurt her feelings.
"Always happy to take a raincheck. Don't work too hard now."
Right. I'd owned the club with my best friend, Max, for nearly ten years, and I did remember when it used to be fun. Of course what two red-blooded males wouldn't love the idea of running a intercourse club? But lately it was literally all work and no play. Rubbing my eyes and knowing I still had a long night ahead of me, I stood up from my desk and went through the secure door on my right. There my security team monitored the rooms and the guests on the dozen screens in front of them.
"How's it going, Ron?" I addressed the head of security and the best man I had on the job.
"Nothing out of the ordinary, Mr. Nelson." His scrutinizing gaze never left the screens, scanning for any type of breach in either the rooms or the party crowd. Anonymity was the most important thing at Club Travesty, something I took very seriously and the reason I had top security.
"Is Max on the bar?"
"Yes, sir. Any chance he gets."
Not only was Max my best friend from childhood, but he was also my business partner. Whereas I preferred the back office, he enjoyed being in the mix, dealing with personnel and schmoozing. He was the people person. I was not.
Typically, we had a much smaller crowd. But during the holidays, we did two big VIP parties, one to celebrate Christmas and another on New Year's Eve. This was in addition to the many other services we offered. Private rooms for couples who wanted to come in and spice things up, kinky BDSM rooms in the basement, and a newer service I'd added a few years ago which focused on the woman. This included everything from sexual confidence counselors to the "boyfriend experience," where lonely women could come in to gain mojo.
I was just about to step out and back to the books when Ron honed in on something.
"Focus in on camera four," he instructed Alan, his junior security guy.
I wasn't sure what he was looking at until I spotted her. Pink hair that was obviously fake, tight petite body in a silver, curve-hugging dress, and thigh-high boots that were hot. "What's she holding?"
"I think it's a camera." He spoke into the intercom, reaching every security guard via their inconspicuous earpieces. "I've got a possible breach. Pink hair, silver dress, black boots. In front of room number four."
Photos were a definite violation of club policy. "Run her credentials," I instructed.
"Yes, sir. You want us to confiscate the device and escort her out?"
That would be the easiest thing to do. But I wanted answers first. "No, bring her up here. Proceed discreetly."
Daniella
The elevator doors opened to a large floor space. Two desks sat in the middle of the room and a bay of one-way mirrors appeared to look down over the main floor. My anxiety was already high, but then I saw him. It went up a whole other level.
Dressed all in black in a well-tailored suit, he walked towards me with a masculine confidence which left no doubt he was in charge. He was gorgeous in a dangerous way with chiseled features, midnight black hair and a scruff that made me wonder what it would feel like between my thighs. Jesus, where had that thought come from? I blamed the intercourse God in front of me along with the visual from the rooms still on my mind.
He stopped a foot in front me and held out his hand. "May I see your ID card?"
I swallowed hard before fishing it from my clutch and handing it over. My voice escaped me, though I didn't know whether it was from his presence or from my nerves over the fake ID.
"Scan this." He held it out for Tank Man.
"Yes, sir."
After taking the card, Tank Man opened a door off to the side, offering me a glimpse of monitors.
The moment the door closed, I felt very aware we were alone. The floor may have been spacious, but at that moment it felt anything but. "What, uh, what is this about?" I'd finally found my voice.
"It's about the camera, and the pictures you were taking."
He didn't seem like a man who would appreciate a false runaround, so I didn't bother to deny it. "I'm guessing it's against club rules?"
"You'd guess right. And if you turn it over, I won't press charges."
"You won't press charges against me for taking pictures in a intercourse club?" As if he would call the cops here. I might be shaking in my boots, but I wasn't stupid.
His smile didn't reach his eyes. "Take off your mask, please."
I swallowed hard but removed it as instructed. Perhaps if I cooperated, he'd be more willing to let me keep the photos.
"I've never seen you here before. What's your name?"
I looked beyond him to where the big man who'd taken my ID was coming out of the door. "I'm sure your human tank can tell you."
His lips twitched, but he simply turned towards his man with a quirked brow.
"Beth Jones, sir. But the membership code belongs to Eric Patterson."
Note to self. When lying and going undercover, wear shoes I could actually run in. These four-inch boots were definitely not fitting the bill if I wanted to make a break for it.
"Go back to your station downstairs, Chad. Send up Lance, please."
"He so didn't look like a Chad," I commented once the door was closed. Hey, even if I was screwed, I could still be sarcastic.
***
Shane
I was the type of man accustomed to having people nervous upon meeting me. I might not be big like the "Tank" she'd referred to, but at six foot one, two hundred pounds, I'd been known to intimidate the people I wanted to. But this woman was cracking jokes. She was challenging me about the police, despite her hands shaking when she'd handed over the ID card and taken off her mask. I appreciated that she hadn't bothered to lie or play dumb.
"Who is Eric Patterson to you?" I hadn't missed the way she'd involuntarily flinched when his name had been mentioned.
She lifted her chin. "My soon-to-be-former fiancé."
"I'm guessing he doesn't know you're here?"
"You'd guess correctly."
She had spunk; I'd give her that. "What are the pictures for?"
"Well, nothing says insurance better than a photo of your former fiancé banging another woman while getting it in the hip at the same time by a dude."
If this wasn't so serious, then I might have grinned at her choice of words. "Insurance against what? You're a woman who came in tonight to get proof your fiancé was cheating. So now go home, throw his clothes out, and do whatever you women do to get your revenge, but leave my club out of it."
She gritted her teeth. "I have something that could be useful to you."
I raised a brow, slowly scanning up from her thigh-high boots to the short dress that gave me a glimpse of skin. Her breasts, although not large, were certainly real. And despite the fact she was wearing a lot of makeup, I could see that under it she was beautiful. For a moment, I wanted nothing better than to rip off her wig to see the color of her hair. But the murderous glare she was shooting me gave me pause, not to mention amusement.
"Jesus. Are all men pigs? I meant your security system. Obviously, I'm not throwing myself at the owner of a intercourse club. I'm not that pathetic."
Normally I didn't care what people thought about me, having perfected such an art form years ago. But this particular woman's audacity to think herself too good for me snapped my temper. "I can assure you I'd rather j-rk off than sleep someone vanilla like you."
I immediately saw the hurt flash in her eyes and instantly regretted my words. I'd made this personal when it was only business.
"I'm sure my fiancé had the same thought. And the insurance I speak of is because he took my money, and I want it back." She dug in her clutch and handed over a small camera. "I'll be going now unless you have any other insults you'd prefer to hurl before I do."
Unbelievable. "As if implying you'd never stoop so low as to sleep with me wasn't starting it."
Her pretty face showed confusion. "What are you talking about? You know what? It doesn't matter. I need to go."
I was about to let her. Getting the camera should have been enough, but I needed to address one more thing. How had she gotten in tonight?
My gaze landed on Lance coming out of the elevator. He'd been on the door when Ms. Beth Jones—which couldn't be her real name—had come through.
"Wait one moment. Lance, do you remember letting this woman in the door earlier tonight?"
Lance assessed her quickly but shook his head. "Sorry, sir. I don't remember her. There were a lot of women dressed similarly tonight."
"Yes, but this one gave you a fake ID. It might have looked authentic, but it was cloned from the card of a male member, which she is definitely not. That you should've caught. Clear out your things. You're fired."
She gasped. "What? No. You can't fire him."
***
Daniella
The arrogant prick had the nerve to arch a brow at me.
"I'm the owner. I can do whatever I like."
"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir." Lance spoke up, ready to leave.
Could I help it if my guilt was heavy? I'd come to expose a cheater, not make some poor guy lose his job. "No, wait. I'll show you how I cloned the cards. That's what I was offering before. But if I show you, then you have to let, uh, Lance keep his job. You have a serious security breach with the way your cards are designed."
I watched him contemplate. "Are you a computer hacker?"
"No, just really good with them."
"And how are you with accounting? Because if I dismiss Eric from the club, I'm going to be without an accountant."
My eyes widened. "You let Eric handle your books? Are you a client of his firm?"
"No. He did this on the side to compensate for his, uh, membership fee. He is an accountant, is he not?"
"Yeah, one who stole money and doesn't have the accumulated wealth he boasts about." I used air quotes to highlight the last few words.
Although his face said nothing, the set of his jaw told me everything. "Lance, go downstairs and bring Mr. Patterson up here. I have some questions for him."
"Does that mean Lance isn't fired?"
"It would seem so. For now."
Tank Two simply nodded. "Yes, sir. I'll bring Mr. Patterson up."
"How did you find out he was stealing?"
"I gave him seventy-five thousand dollars to go with his supposed two hundred thousand for a down payment on a house. None of it is in his bank accounts. Matter of fact, the statements show he's exclusively been withdrawing money for months."
"Excuse me?"
"When I hacked into his bank accounts, none of my money was there. But I did see it used to be, along with a couple hundred thousand, but it's all been withdrawn. That's why I need the pictures from tonight, as insurance he'll give my money back."
"I take it he wouldn't want people finding out he was having intercourse with another man?"
"He'd freak out if I let the pictures go to all of his buddies or coworkers."
"Are you sure you want to see him? I could just as easily do this without you here. The last thing I want is for you to start crying or get hysterical."
Seriously? "The answer to your insulting question would be no, I won't start freaking out."
Matter of fact, I was more than ready to confront Eric.
Shane
I watched Eric come off the elevator doors. He took off the mask and gave me a smile before his gaze flicked over to my guest.
"Daniella. That's not you, is it?"
She ripped the pink wig off her head, letting auburn locks flow down her back and making it clear she was the person he'd guessed.
She was even prettier without the wig, with her natural dark red hair cascading down her back in waves, but it was the fire in her eyes which made her stunning. Although I'd hauled him up here wanting answers about his alleged stealing—he was acting as my accountant, after all—like a sick voyeur, I was riveted to the spot. I wanted to find out what would happen once she confronted him over the cheating.
"What are you doing here?" Eric asked, still clearly in shock.
"Shouldn't that be my question for you?"
She was calm. I'd give her that.
"I, uh, I mean some people from the office—we were working late and—"
"Oh, my God. Even now you lie. After I saw you having intercourse with some guy ten minutes ago."
Eric went pale at her remark, and I have to say it made me happy. I'd never really liked the guy on a personal level and wasn't surprised to find he was a cheater. The question was whether he was a thief. If he was, I was going to break his face.
"What do you expect? You're boring in the bedroom. No boobs, no adventure—"
"No manhood," she supplied, arching a brow.
At least she wasn't about to let him insult her. There was no way it couldn't have stung, though, especially after my earlier comment.
"As enlightening as it would be to hear you two go back and forth all night, I don't have the time. But I do have a vested interest in bringing you up here, Eric."
His gaze shifted to me, and I could see it. The nervousness. "Uh, what's that?"
"Are you stealing from me?"
"No. No way, Shane."
I raised a brow at his familiarity.
"I mean Mr. Nelson, sir."
"Did you steal from her?"
His eyes got big, and he turned red. "No. She's my fiancée."
"Not any more I'm not."
She took off the ring and tossed it onto a nearby table. If she'd been smart, she would've used it for leverage to ensure he returned her money first, but I stayed quiet. And in fact, before he could step over to grab the considerably sized diamond ring, she snatched it up.
"Return my money, and you can have it back."
"What? That ring is worth over ten grand. All precedents says the man gets the ring back if an engagement is broken."
But then again, this was the most amusement I'd had in weeks.
"I'm aware of what legal precedents says. However, if the man owes her seventy-five thousand dollars, the ring can be held as collateral. I want it all returned."
"It was to go towards a house, so good luck proving anything."
I'd had enough of this prick. It bothered me that he wasn't apologizing or appeared to show any remorse. She'd trusted him, and he'd betrayed her trust: not only by cheating, but also by taking her money. Neither of which was sitting well with me. "What do you think the guys at the office or your buddies would think of your little three-some downstairs tonight, Eric?"
His face started to turn a deep red. Although he was a handsome guy, if you preferred the Wall Street type, he certainly didn't look it now. Matter of fact, he looked like he was about to puke. Which meant I had his number.
"You can't threaten me with that. Anonymity is rule one with the club."
I shrugged. "I can't, but she can. She has pictures."
His eyes darted back and forth between us. "But that's against club rules."
"Well, see, that's a predicament. She's not actually a club member. In fact, you're in violation for allowing her to use your card tonight to get in."
"I didn't. She must've copied it."
"Which means she had access to it, which ultimately constitutes carelessness on your part."
"What do you want from me?"
"The truth. Are you stealing from me?"
"No. Definitely not."
Considering he didn't have access to my actual bank accounts but only to the reports, I chose to believe him. "Fine, but if I find one penny gone, those pictures go viral at your firm. Also, you'll return all the money to Ms.—"
"Trivioli," she supplied.
Daniella Trivioli. The name rolled around in my mind.
"Okay. Fine," he readily agreed.
"And do not come back here. Your membership has been revoked."
Now he looked like he was on the verge of crying. He certainly hadn't been as upset to lose his supposed future life partner. "Please, don't do that."
"I don't tolerate thieves or liars, Eric. Now, I suggest you leave without a scene before I make one and have you tossed out."
He turned, but not without walking in front of Daniella and mumbling something which made her go completely pale.
"What did you just say to her?"
"Nothing." Eric appeared in a hurry to be going.
I moved closer to step in front of her. "What did he say to you?" I might be a prick, but the last thing I'd allow was the victim in this situation to be made to feel worse. This woman, in particular, was pulling out a protective side I hadn't felt in years.
"He said 'have a nice life, you frigid orgasmless bimbo.'"
I raised a brow. "He's never given you an climax?" Why did women stay with men who couldn't get them off? Monogamy was a foreign concept to me, especially if, at the very least, the intercourse wasn't good.
She swallowed hard. Tears glistened in her prideful gaze. "Not often."
Eric scoffed. "Because you take too long."
There was a reason my club offered sexual confidence classes. Because men like Eric systematically shredded a woman's self-assurance by being selfish in bed. I stepped closer to Daniella. My arm went around her waist, pulling her to my side. I'd be lying if I said her warmth didn't affect me. Her soft curves could be felt under the flimsy excuse for a dress she was wearing.
"I find it funny you'd automatically assume the problem is her." I let my hand wander down her side slowly, seductively, while I told myself I was helping her save face. "Because your ex-fiancée is a beautiful woman." I stepped behind her then, my one hand still splayed on her hip, the other inching up her skirt in the back.
How far would she be willing to let this go? Any moment I expected her to step away. At the same time, I hoped she wouldn't.
"But she's clearly been sexually deprived for a long time. But don't worry, Eric. She's come to the right place to remedy that." Before I could think about the ramifications or the fact that Daniella wasn't the typical guest at Club Travesty, my hand went up her skirt and between her legs.
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