3. Chapter 3
Chapter 3
L una
On Monday morning at two minutes to eight, the apartment doorbell buzzed, the flat sound vibrating through me. I checked the peephole and stared at Roman Fowler in another expensive suit, standing on the front stoop.
Alexa sat at the kitchen bar, eyeing me carefully. “Are you going to be okay with him?”
“Yes. Somehow, I convinced myself he wouldn’t show up, and have been holding out a vain hope that he changed his mind or would get too busy.” No such luck. I opened the door and stared up at him. He stood there, tall and domineering, then stepped around me and strode into the living room.
“Good morning.” His voice was a low rumble as his dark eyes swept over me and the apartment. He took in the scattered law books on the coffee table and Alexa sitting at the kitchen counter. Carl eyed him warily from the back of the couch, his tail twitching.
“How do you know where I live?” I asked.
“Gideon must have gotten your address from the law school. Imagine my surprise when I pulled up to the Spade family mortuary.”
“You’re lying. Even the school doesn’t have my physical address.”
His lip twitched, but he didn’t elaborate.
“You know what? It doesn’t matter.” I turned to Alexa. “This is Roman Fowler. My roommate, Alexa Torres. Sylvie Spade is our other roommate. She’s at the mortuary already.”
Roman nodded to her. “Alexa, nice to meet you.”
I grabbed my backpack, which held essentials in case I got stuck with him all day. That thought had me pausing, and I turned around and dug through a kitchen cupboard, pulling out a box of Red Hot cinnamon candy and a bag of cinnamon bears.
Alexa stared at him, unblinking. “Hello.” Then she noticed what I was double-fisting. “Do you think it’s going to be that bad?”
I glanced at Roman and nodded.
“Are you ready?” he asked, checking his expensive watch.
“As I’ll ever be. What are we doing this morning?” My insatiable curiosity got the better of me. I loved to learn new things, and my mind never rested. That flaw had almost cost me my life.
“Breakfast and business,” he answered.
“That really narrows it down, thank you.”
He glanced down at our coffee table stacked with an array of law books, nonfiction books, novels, and even an embalmer trade magazine. He picked up a true crime novel and thumbed through it.
“Most of the books in this house are Luna’s,” Alexa murmured from behind her computer screen.
His lip tipped up. “Good to know.”
“She’s smart. Don’t underestimate her.”
“Also good to know.” He glanced at Alexa, then turned to me. “Shall we?”
He owned an expensive, sleek black Mercedes, which didn’t surprise me at all. We drove in silence to a private golf course so exclusive that the air reeked of money and privilege. My father and grandfather belonged to a similar country club in Phoenix. A host ushered us to a quiet restaurant overlooking manicured greens, the sunlight glinting off distant ponds.
“Where the entitled, rich male class goes to do business,” I muttered, observing the crystal chandeliers and servers in vests and ties.
Roman checked his watch. “Mr. Hutton should be here shortly.”
He called a server over to order scrambled eggs, toast, and fruit for the table, asked for three plates, and then poured coffee. “This way we don’t have to wait for Mr. Hutton to order.” He leaned back. “He’s known for two things–being drunk and being late.”
I poured a splash of cream into my coffee. “Who's Mr. Hutton and what’s your role here?"
“Todd Hutton is a commercial real estate developer. His father is the brains behind their company, and they’re known for greasing palms and twisting arms to close deals. He's interested in selling my client some very expensive commercial land in south Las Vegas.”
“Are you on a fact-finding mission, writing up the contract, or reviewing an existing contract?"
He’d picked up his coffee to take a sip but paused and glanced at me. “Due diligence. We’re looking for any legal or development issues, then we’ll draft a contract if our client is still interested.”
Todd Hutton arrived ten minutes later. He wore an expensive golf shirt stretched over a big beer belly. Standing next to Roman, Todd appeared bloated and soft.
“This is Luna Cross, my intern.”
I reached over and held out my hand. “Hello. It’s nice to meet you.”
Todd’s smile turned to a subtle leer, and his handshake was weak and soggy. “You’re the hottest law student I’ve ever met.” He glanced at Roman and grinned knowingly. “I ordered a whiskey neat. Do you want anything?”
I mentally winced–it wasn’t even nine in the morning. Roman shook his head and gestured to a seat at the table.
Tom sat, got his drink, and they exchanged pleasantries before discussing the property. I sipped coffee, dished up some fruit and toast, and listened as the two men talked about acres, zoning, and potential profits.
Then I heard Todd mutter something about utility hookups and water, and I sat up straight. “Mr. Hutton, how many water shares does the property have? Is there water already available at the site?” I’d caught both men off guard, but I knew enough about water and water law, and we lived in a desert.
Roman shot me a sharp look, the edge of his mouth quirking in what could either be amusement or annoyance. I didn’t know him well enough yet to tell.
Todd Hutton faltered for a fraction of a second, a crack in his overly confident, swaggering veneer. “I’m sure there’s water available.”
“Ms. Cross brings up a good point. We need that information on all the utilities, and already requested that information.”
“Of course,” Hutton muttered, glaring at me.
His upper lip broke out in a sweat, which was never a good sign. At that point, Roman smoothly cut the rest of the meeting short, paid the check, and stood. The restaurant had filled up since we walked in, and Roman paused slightly and glanced at a few men sitting nearby. He placed his hand on the small of my back as we walked out.
I didn’t like men touching me in public when they had no right to. But I paused before stepping away from his touch. “Is there a reason you’re suddenly crowding me?” I murmured in a low voice.
“The three men sitting at the table we just passed are vicious, degenerate assholes, and I wanted them to know that you’re with me. They sometimes target women.”
Looking around, I noticed for the first time there weren’t any women eating in the posh restaurant.
I sidestepped his hand once we were in the parking lot. “It worries me that being with you could put a target on my back. It’s not too late, you can still get another intern. A rich, well-connected male law student would probably be more your type.”
He beeped the locks on his car. “Your reticence makes me more determined to keep you.”
I gritted my teeth and slid into the passenger seat. When he climbed in, I turned to him. “Are we done for today? I have some studying to do.”
“No, we have one more stop. I’ll let you know when we’re done, and from now on, bring whatever you need to study and plan on spending your days at the office.”
My temper snapped. “No way. Look, I’m not your employee, little sister, or… whatever. I have class and school obligations. I can’t just blow it all off because you’re a controlling asshole.”
He gave me a hard look. “I know you’re not my little sister since I’m an only child, and it would do you good to see how the law actually functions here in Las Vegas.”
I scowled back. “I get the feeling your law firm runs less by the book and more in that grayish-black area.”
Roman’s head swiveled slowly to me, and he raised an eyebrow. “You live and work with the Spades. Don’t you think that’s a little hypocritical? We make sure we have enough power, money, and leverage so we don’t get fucked over by the law again. The legal system won’t keep you safe, even from me. Never make that mistake.”
His cold eyes were shadowed. Our conversation had gotten intense fast, so I let it go, but he was in for a rude surprise if he thought I’d be held hostage in his office all day. The mentorship rules required me to complete a certain number of hours and have so many law-related experiences, and I was keeping track.
Studying him thoughtfully, I wondered what he was like in a courtroom. “Where are we going now?”
“To see one of my clients.” A few minutes later, we pulled into the parking lot of Euphoria. Even I had heard of this place, it was one of the most notorious and popular strip clubs in Vegas, and excited nervous energy rolled through me.
“You think a trip to a strip club is part of my necessary hands-on legal experience?” My curiosity won out, and I got out of the car and tilted my head back to look up at the large, ostentatious white building.
“It’s a gentlemen’s club, and absolutely. This is another one of those places where ‘entitled males’ go to do business.’”
Faux Greek marble statues of naked women lined the walkway to the front doors.
“I’ve always wanted to go inside,” I admitted, staring up at the building. “What are you doing here?”
His brow creased as he studied me. “The managing partner needs some legal advice about a VIP client.”
“Okay. Can I talk to a few employees if there’s time?'“
He shrugged. “It’s up to them. But stay out of trouble and don’t wander off. Their doors open at noon.”
A bouncer answered the doorbell and buzzed us inside the thick double doors. Coming in from the bright Las Vegas sunshine, the dimly lit club temporarily blinded me. Even with the houselights up, the club looked like an exclusive salon or the lobby of a five-star hotel. The walls were covered in a deep plush shade of blue, accented with gold and crystal. Velvet sofas and armchairs were artfully arranged around marble coffee tables. Large chandeliers hung from the ceiling, glowing warmly over the space. A main stage sat at the back, and two smaller stages with sturdy poles were placed equidistant from each other further into the club.
A couple of cleaners worked in the bar area, and the subtle aroma of lemon solution mixed with perfumes and colognes lingered in the air.
“Roman Fowler,” a husky female voice murmured as a striking woman approached us from the shadows. “Who did you bring with you today?”
“Fiona Parker, this is Luna Cross.”
Fiona was probably in her early forties. She had short platinum blond hair cut into a sharp bob, tasteful makeup, and wore a feminine lavender-colored business suit.
“Nice to meet you.” I held out my hand, and she gave me a firm handshake. “I’ve always been curious about your club. One of my classmates had her bachelorette party here, and now that I know a female owns it, I’m even more intrigued.”
Fiona glanced at Roman. “I have a couple of other partners. So you’re looking for employment? You’re not dressed for an audition, but I’m sure there’s something in back that would work.” Fiona reached around and grabbed the back of my white button-down shirt, pulling it tight so she could see my figure. Then she walked around me and palmed my butt cheeks. I grunted in surprise and moved out of her reach. Roman didn’t say a word, and I could tell he was trying not to laugh. Asshole.
“You’ve got nice breasts and a good, tight ass, and your innocent face and those big, green eyes with all that thick, dark hair would be a hit with the clientele. I’ll need to see how you dance and move, though.”
I choked and my cheeks flushed hot. Turning to face her, I held up my hands. “Thank you? But I’m already employed as a mortuary assistant, and today I’m just shadowing Mr. Fowler as his law student intern.”
Fiona chuckled, unfazed by her mistake. “Aw, that’s why you’re blushing like a nun in a brothel. But seriously, if you can dance and you don’t have any serious blemishes or scars, you could make a lot of money working here.”
“I don’t know how to dance, and I have no rhythm or coordination. My dance teacher kicked me out of her studio when I was six, so I think I’m better off getting a degree.”
She chuckled. “We all have our strengths. What do you want to know about the club?”
“Well, I was going to ask how you find dancers, but I think you just answered that one. What’s it like owning a gentleman’s club, especially as a woman? What are your biggest headaches? And how do you manage clients and keep them in line?”
Holding up a hand, she grinned. “Let me answer those questions before you fire off more. It’s lucrative, and I haven’t run into too many problems as a woman. I’ve got competent help. The biggest issues are employee retention, local regulations, and partners.” She gave Roman a pointed look. “I maintain order because my security guards are more than just bodies, and I have cameras everywhere. Now I have one for you. How’d you end up with Roman as your mentor? You two seem… ill-paired.”
“Right?! But Klim Hudson thought we’d be a ‘good match’ for some ungodly reason. I’m still trying to dissuade them.”
Fiona’s eyes sharpened. “Roman is an exceptional attorney and an astute businessman. But, listen carefully. Don’t let your guard down.” Roman grunted next to her, we both ignored him.
“I won’t.” If his client and probable business partner felt compelled to warn me, I needed to be careful.
They talked about a VIP client who’d racked up a substantial bill, and a few other minor legal issues before Fiona turned to me. “You’re welcome to wander around and talk to the dancers while we finish our discussion.”
Roman pointed at me. “Stay out of trouble.”
“Absolutely.” I rolled my eyes behind his back and rubbed my hands together as I turned to the dressing rooms.