Chapter 9
“You’re building a magical, sex-work empire.”
Yasmin smirks at my remark, watching me from the opposite side of her glass-top desk. I feel her intent gaze on me as I study the blueprints she passed over the moment I sat down.
I’m currently looking at the floor plan of The Underworld, a BDSM club a few blocks over from The Jewelry Box. I’ve never visited the place, but I know Cat’s sister Harley works there. Apparently, this is Yasmin’s latest investment.
“You make it sound like I’m going to war. Don’t worry. My jewels are lovers, not fighters.”
I snort, knowing that any one of the dancers working the stage at The Jewelry Box could skewer a man. Pearl’s done it with her eyes alone.
Thoughts of the blonde beauty I haven’t seen in weeks because of my ban have me questioning the point of my presence in this meeting.
“Why am I here?” I ask. “According to you, I’m not allowed to step foot on the premises for two more months.”
Is she lifting the ban? Please say yes.
But then I consider what that would mean.
Sure, I could return to my routine of settling into the VIP section on Tuesday nights to watch Pearl dance. But would I be making her uncomfortable? Now that I’ve waltzed up to her home?
Having her stroll out onto the stage and ignore me was one thing.
But if I saw her flinch at the sight of me? If I picked up a trace of fear?
Fuck, that would gut me.
With resigned regret, I realize that ban or no, my time patronizing The Jewelry Box is done.
Sensing my sadness, my magic stirs, rocking back and forth in my chest until I can swear Yasmin’s office is on a boat. The artistic fountain she has on a shelf behind her desk starts sputtering as the liquid within it rises, threatening to overflow unless I gain control of myself.
With a deep breath, I sooth my melancholy magic. The sadness doesn’t leave, I’m not that good at control, but my Squid skills stay in check.
“You’re banned from the floor,” Yasmin says, unaware of my internal conflict. “Not from my office. And just because I want to hire you for this project doesn’t change that. You broke the rules, you pay the consequences.” She steeples her long fingers in front of her red-painted lips. “Back to business. I want to completely overhaul the look of The Underworld. Possibly change the name, too. But that’ll be for my marketing team to weigh in on.”
“Overhaul how?” Work is a welcome distraction. Gods know I don’t need the money. I could live my life comfortably off my trust fund.
But I like designing things.
Scratch that. I love it. Architecture gives me purpose and joy, which is why I often use my skills in a volunteer capacity.
Still, Yasmin is a shrewd but fair businesswoman, so I expect this will be a well-paid gig.
She waves at the blueprints. “They have a tantalizing name but go in there and it’s like a doctor’s office. Predictable layout. Bland waiting room. Hallways with vinyl tiles on the floor.” She sneers as if the idea of industrial flooring is offensive. “And the rooms are sad attempts at themes. I want to rethink the spaces. Give them flow. People come for a fantasy. They should be fully immersed from the moment they step in the door.”
Yasmin’s eyes take on a bright spark of excitement as she lays out her intentions, and the eager energy infusing her words rubs off on me.
“That sounds intriguing. I—” The low thump of music distracts me, and my eyes creep toward a one-way window that overlooks the floor of The Jewelry Box. Customers only see a mirror in an ornate frame hung high on the wall.
Yasmin sees everything.
And now I do too.
“I thought the club was closed on Mondays,” I mutter, gaze fastened on a voluptuous, familiar body strutting out on stage.
Pearl.
I haven’t seen her since our run-in outside her building. That was two weeks ago.
Today, she’s wearing an outfit that would be considered modest compared to her normal costumes. A set of stretchy black shorts and a cropped T-shirt still show off the delicious curves of her body.
“Some of the dancers come in on their off days to practice,” Yasmin explains, her voice deceptively casual.
I know I should get back to our business discussion, but I’m having trouble tearing my eyes from Pearl as she leisurely swings herself around the pole. Especially since I decided I’m not going to force my company on her again.
And I find myself particularly interested in the person who joins her on stage.
Someone who looks very much like a man.
“Security guard?” I ask, trying to keep my voice casual. I sound like someone is strangling me.
“Dancer,” Yasmin corrects. “I’m broadening the clientele I serve.” She taps a wickedly sharp acrylic on the blueprints. “But we’re here to talk about redesigning a BDSM club. Not whether my newest hire has a romantic attachment to the woman you have an unhealthy fixation on.” That gets me to tear my eyes from Pearl and meet Yasmin’s suspicious ones. “Do I need to extend your ban?”
“No.” I drag in a deep breath then exhale slow. “But you can if you think that’s best. Even when my months are up, I’ll still keep my distance. As much as I love what your club has to offer, I think it’s time I get over my fixation.”
Yasmin narrows her eyes. “What happened?”
I debate not telling her, but if we’re going to be doing business together, I’d rather not start with a lie. “We crossed paths outside of the club. Pearl made it clear where her boundaries are, and I want to respect them. Even if…” I clear my throat and try not to look entirely devastated. “Even if that means we don’t see much of each other in the future.” I gesture at the designs. “But this is a different building. So that shouldn’t be a problem, right?” I pull my tablet out of my bag and wake it up, using my stylus to open my digital sketchpad. “I like what you’re describing. I want to be a part of it.”
I don’t need the job for the money. I want it for the challenge. Designing something different. Something edgy and sexual.
Maybe it’ll take off the edge of need left by Pearl’s absence from my life.
Yasmin’s eyes flick from the window to me then to the blueprints between us then back to meet my stare.
Her smile unfurls slowly, but I can tell the expression is genuine. Her eagerness has returned.
“Then it looks like I just hired myself an architect.”