3. Clay
CLAY
“I like this addition to your office.” Standing in front of a bank of screens, I watched the action on the main floor of Dante West’s club.
Unlike the private rooms where two or more people could disappear for private fun, the main floor was devoted to socializing, dancing, and virtually any sort of activities customers felt like indulging in.
There was plenty of skin on display and virtually every kind of fetish gear imaginable.
Several leather-clad patrons cut through the crowd on hands and knees, led on a leash by their masters.
A pair of luscious blondes felt each other up in one corner of the dance floor while a masked man stroked himself, sitting in a chair against the wall to watch the performance.
For the most part, though, the real action was reserved for the rooms lining three walls of the dance floor’s perimeter.
There was no pressure for anyone to participate in the action.
In fact, there were plenty of fully-clothed clientele sipping drinks at the bar.
Dante swiveled his chair in my direction, grunting. “It’s the only way I can be sure everything’s running up to my standards. You don’t attract and retain my level of clientele by taking chances.”
“Do you have any doubts about your staff?” I asked, glancing his way over my shoulder before returning my attention to the monitors.
As jarring as it was to see some of what took place in front of me as only an investor, a small voice in the back of my head asked what it would be like, feeling that free.
Granted, patrons wore at least a mask to cover the top half of their face for the sake of discretion, along with other typical, unbreakable rules.
No cell phones beyond the front lobby, a strict No Means No policy. No second chances allowed.
Within those rules was the chance to release all inhibitions. To explore.
Dante chuckled, smirking as he raised his glass to his lips. “You know I don’t because anyone I doubt is someone who is no longer working for me,” he pointed out. “There’s no such thing as being too careful. I know you can appreciate that.”
Which was why he made a natural investment partner, even if I didn’t share the tastes of the people partying one floor beneath us.
He took his work very seriously and valued guest satisfaction above all else.
A club like his attracted curious thrill seekers, sure, but there was only so far a business could grow through one-time-only visitors.
It was the same with my restaurants and hotels.
Repeat business was our bread and butter, and ensuring guest safety and happiness was the foundation.
He sipped his whiskey, then held the crystal tumbler up to the light. “I swear, this tastes better when I drink it from Baccarat crystal. You can pour yourself another if you want,” he offered, gesturing toward the well-stocked bar built into the walnut-paneled wall opposite his desk.
“I’m afraid I need to keep my head clear tonight.” Instead of refilling, I left the empty tumbler on the bar. “I have a lot on my mind.”
“Feel free to share if you need a sounding board.” Another thing I appreciated about Dante. He was generous with his time and advice.
This wasn’t the sort of thing he could relate to, though.
Who could? “I was offered a proposition this afternoon.” My tie was suddenly too tight.
Loosening it didn’t make breathing any easier, so I removed it, then opened the top two buttons of my shirt.
The sensation of being strangled faded away but not completely.
“You don’t sound happy about it,” he pointed out, setting down his drink and leaning back in his chair.
“On one hand, I am. It’s… it’s a very big deal.” The hair on the back of my neck lifted at the thought. “I’m talking life-goals-achieved levels.”
He arched an eyebrow. “I’m listening.”
I was too jumpy to sit. When was the last time I wrestled this nervous energy? Probably not since my days playing ball. The early days before I had taught myself to master that energy and turn it into something positive. Something that would fuel me rather than fuck with my head.
Until now, that mastery hadn’t failed me. But then, this was hardly a typical situation. I couldn’t have prepared for this.
Dante watched from behind his desk as I paced, my shoes slapping the floor in a quick, steady rhythm. “How far would you go to get your hands on the crown jewel?” I asked. “What would you do? What would you agree to?”
“Is this something I’m going to wish I had never heard?” When I glanced his way, he shrugged. “No offense, but I don’t need the feds sniffing around, asking how much I knew about whatever you’re into.”
“For fuck’s sake,” I muttered, though the brief laugh eased my tension. “No, it’s nothing like that. Are there any lines you wouldn’t cross?”
“And we’re talking totally legality here?”
I nodded. “Of course.”
“As long as it’s legal, and nobody gets hurt, I can’t imagine much I wouldn’t do.” He stroked his chin, shrugging again. “I’ll be damned if I can think of anything.”
“That’s exactly how I feel.” Then, why couldn’t I sit down? Why had I spent the past ten hours ready to jump out of my skin? I couldn’t be sick. I didn’t get sick.
“So what’s the problem?”
I came to a stop, sighing before going to the bar to pour another drink after all. Why the hell not? “I never planned on getting married. Now or ever.”
I gave him a few silent seconds before glancing his way. “You look like you just watched a pig walk through here wearing high heels,“ I told him after taking in his widening eyes.
“I’ve seen stranger things than that.” Tipping his head to the side, he asked, “What does getting married have to do with any of this?”
“That’s the deal.” Capping the scotch, I crossed the room and dropped into a leather armchair. “If I want to absorb this brand, I have to take the owner’s daughter along with it.”
“You’re shitting me.”
“You called it. I’m making it all up.” I had to snort at his confusion. “I’m sure you figured you’d heard it all by now.”
After sputtering for a while, he announced, “It’s archaic.”
“That’s one word for it.”
“Okay. Let’s focus on what’s important.” Sitting up straight, he folded his hands on the desk. “Have you gotten a look at her?”
“Completely by accident. I don’t know if the old man expected me to accept prior to ever setting eyes on her or what.
But we met.” Had we ever. I couldn’t get that mouth of hers out of my mind.
That hair. What would it look like, hanging loose, wound around my fingers while I worked her mouth up and down my cock?
“Is she, you know…” His lips pulled back from his teeth in a grimace. “Somebody who would expect their father to set them up with a husband because they can’t get one on their own?”
I nodded toward the monitors playing the feed from downstairs.
“I’ve asked myself a couple of times what she would look like in some of the outfits the women are wearing down there.
There’s a tall brunette in a tight leather dress that zips up the front.
” He found her and grunted softly. “Take a few inches off her height, and you could be looking at the same woman.”
“Oh. Okay, then.” He lifted his drink in a salute. “What’s the problem? Don’t tell me you’re going soft. Were you secretly hoping to marry for love one day?”
“Fuck off,” I growled out. I could never get away with that kind of reaction with my closest friends, not anymore.
I was the last single man in the group, the sole survivor of whatever insidious virus had infected us.
Maybe I had natural immunity or something.
If I rolled my eyes and gave them shit about falling in love, I would end up getting lectured about how my time would come or some nauseating shit like that.
“Fine,” Dante replied, chuckling. “All it takes to get what you want is probably a shit ton of money, which is not a problem for you, and marrying a hot woman. Is that the situation in a nutshell? Am I missing anything?”
“No, that’s about it.”
“I’m not seeing the issue. I’m sorry.”
“I don’t want a marriage. I don’t want a wife.
I wouldn’t…” I wouldn’t know the first thing about being a husband, having no example from the deadbeat father I’d never met.
It came too close to falling out of my mouth, that admission.
Then, there were the relationships with women I cast aside in favor of an uncomplicated career.
Work was my life. I had no time or patience to learn how to be a partner.
Taking a breath, I concluded, “I don’t want somebody looking over my fucking shoulder all the time, invading my personal space, all that.” The intensity behind my words surprised me the way they came out like gunfire.
“I agree, but I don’t see what that has to do with anything.”
He had to be fucking with me. “Marriage. Relationship. Wife. What are you not getting about this?”
With a blithe shrug, he asked, “Who says it has to be that way? Do you know how she feels about it? Was she, you know, fluttering her eyelashes when you met?”
“More like she wanted to rip my balls off.” Not that she’d be the first woman to want to. I’d been accused of being a dickhead, a robot, a user. All because I was capable of seeing sex for what it was—a fun diversion that was over once it was over.
“Use that to your advantage. If she hates the idea, chances are she won’t want to be involved with you at all.
Get married on paper, make her old man happy, live your own separate lives.
This is a business arrangement,” he reminded me.
“Treat it like one. Set the expectations right off the bat. If anything, she might thank you for it.”
His simple advice was a pin inserted in the balloon of uncertainty that had been growing by the hour since the meeting with Alessandro.
“Would you believe I didn’t think about that?
” I asked, sinking back in the chair while he snickered.
“I was too busy wondering if I could look myself in the eye every morning over the bathroom sink if I went against everything I always said I wanted.”
“Sometimes you have to compromise a little. I mean, you couldn’t have imagined somebody would tie marriage to the biggest deal of your life.” Again, he raised his glass. “Until now, that is.”
“I’ll drink to that.” Now, I could enjoy the velvet smokiness of Dante’s exquisite scotch.
There I was, too busy asking myself how I could fit a wife into the life I had so carefully constructed when it was all about setting expectations, the way Dante said.
I didn’t have to change anything about my life beyond maybe sharing a house for the sake of keeping the old man happy.
I could work it out, get everything I wanted, and not have to sacrifice anything major. It would all be worth it in the end.
His desk phone rang, and he answered the call, murmuring into the receiver while my attention drifted back to the action on the monitors.
The tall brunette was nowhere to be found.
Had she left for the night? Or was she in one of the rooms, unzipping her dress for a lucky partner?
Maybe they were doing it for her, peeling the leather back to reveal the ripe flesh underneath.
Juicy and ripe like the body under that fitted suit. Having Mira Rinaldi around the house wouldn’t be easy if the idea was to keep my hands off her, but the house was big enough that we didn’t need to cross paths often.
This was going to happen. Not that I’d ever had a doubt since there was no guarantee I would ever come across an offer like this again—the opportunity to double my properties’ portfolio overnight. The difference was that I was no longer wrestling with doubt over what I would have to give up.
“Sorry about that,” Dante offered, replacing the receiver in its cradle. “My business manager telling me he sent over the prospectus for my potential expansion.”
“You’re still pursuing it?” I asked, my interest piqued.
“Absolutely. You aren’t the only man with big plans.” There was a gleam in his eye when he observed, “No matter where I set up shop, people will come. No pun intended.”
Chuckling, I stood. “I’ll leave you to it.”
“You know, you should consider heading downstairs, working out any lingering tension. Consider it my wedding gift to you,” he added with a grin. “That and the mask I’d give you to wear.”
It wasn’t a bad idea. I deserved a night of relaxation after the day I had.
But… “I don’t take chances if I can help it,” I reminded him. “No offense. When I’m this close to landing a deal, I can’t risk being recognized.”
“You know I have to offer. And congratulations on your upcoming nuptials. Let me know if you two set up a registry.” He was snickering as I left his office, taking the back stairs for the sake of discretion.
A door at the bottom led to an alley where my car and driver waited.
I wasted no time ducking inside and breathed easier once the door was closed.
With the publicity this deal would bring, my face would be all over the place. I didn’t need complications.
What I needed was someone to help me with the semi-twitching in my boxer briefs. The memory of that leather-clad brunette blended with memories of the furious, gorgeous Mira until it was obvious I’d need to jerk off at home or face a night of blue balls.
There was no question of what I’d think about while I did. A Google search on my phone resulted in dozens of images of Mirabella Rinaldi looking regal and polished and very tempting. The princess of the Rinaldi empire. Not an ice princess, though. Those gold-flecked hazel orbs held too much fire.
Soon, she would be mine too. We might even have a little fun if she’d get out of her own way and let it happen.