17
When Brandon dragged himself out of bed on Tuesday, already running late for his shift at Sterling Grove Club, getting blackmailed by a coworker definitely hadn't been on his radar.
Once again, he had to bank on pure luck to get the beat-up Ford running and carry him out to the edge of town, toward the club.
Everything settled into what felt like a normal routine once he stowed his things in the locker room and reported to his post at the spa.
The club wasn't nearly as packed as it had been over the weekend.
That was a relief; he had zero interest in running around like crazy unless it was for Amanda or Isabella.
A slow grin spread across his face. Wonder if I'll see them today?
He climbed the three steps leading into the spa facilities and found Monica in her usual uniform, swapping out towels and linens in the massage room. She greeted him with that same mortified expression that had only seemed to intensify over the last few days.
Something's definitely off here.
Brandon had already noticed it, but with everything going down between Amanda and Isabella, he’d pushed Monica to the back of his mind. Now, though, it was time to get to the bottom of it.
“Monica.”
She acted like she hadn't heard him, doggedly continuing to stack rolled towels on the massage tables.
“Hey, Monica.” A bit hesitant, he rested his hand over hers to get her attention. He heard her breath hitch, her entire frame tensing for a split second. “Everything okay? You've… kind of seemed different the past couple of days.”
She tried to look him in the eye, only to tear her gaze away a second later, that familiar furious blush painting her face.
“Look, I'm sorry. I don't know if I said something to upset you, but I swear if I did, I didn't mean to.”
“N-no…” She didn't pull her hand from beneath his, though she used her other one to nervously adjust her glasses. “It's… it's nothing…”
Brandon wasn't buying it for a second. Something was clearly eating at the girl. He was about to push a little further when she spun around and blurted it out, words tumbling out in a sudden rush.
“Since nobody's around, could you go restock the towels and take out the trash in thermal bath two, please?”
Holding her gaze for a second, Brandon gave a nod. If she wasn't ready to talk about it, he wouldn't corner her.
Brandon pushed through the wooden door dividing the thermal baths.
The artificial stone pools were built to capture the feel of authentic Japanese hot springs.
All three of the club's thermal baths were spacious, framed by lush greenery and cedar partitions that created an organic, peaceful seclusion in step with the club's zen atmosphere.
Steam curled lazily off the surface of the water, and the heat rising from the pools immediately brought a sheen of sweat to his skin.
Still, it beat catering to the club members.
He grabbed the fresh towels from the club laundry sack he’d hauled over, restocking the wooden cabinet by the changing room entrance.
The cedar floorboards creaked under his boots as Brandon stepped inside the changing stalls.
He emptied every bin into a larger heavy-duty bag, straightened up the benches, and tidied the shower area, checking each soap dispenser and refilling the ones running low.
He breezed through the work with far more energy than he ever brought to serving the club members. Just not having rich old bastards whistling at him, calling him “boy,” or barking orders without even looking him in the eye made the job ten times easier.
Inside the last stall, tying off the trash bag, he caught the faint sound of footsteps echoing near the changing room entrance. Great, so much for my peace and quiet, he thought. But no voice followed.
He finished up and stepped out, pulling the door shut behind him. For a second, Brandon froze in pure bewilderment. Monica was standing right there in the entryway.
“Everything okay?”
“I saw you guys in the hot tub the other night.”
The girl was flushed bright crimson. It was clear she was way out of her comfort zone confronting him like this, but the stubborn determination set into her features proved she’d summoned every ounce of nerve she had to do it.
Fuck… everything's ruined, Brandon thought, his chest tightening in a sudden spike of panic.
“There's no point in denying it… I… I…”
“Monica, I can explain. Just please don't tell Laura.”
“I don't care about that.”
This was supposed to be a tense, terrifying standoff.
At least, that was what Brandon braced for.
But something was totally off. Maybe it was because Monica looked so utterly flustered herself that she couldn't give the threat the weight it should have carried.
Then she spoke again, and everything clicked.
“If you don't do the same thing with me, Laura is getting a full report.”
Wait, Brandon's mind stalled out for a second. What did she just say?
“Are you listening to me?” Monica turned an even deeper shade of scarlet when she noticed Brandon raking his eyes over her from head to toe.
“If I don't… do the same thing?”
“…Yeah…”
An awkward silence stretched between them.
Is this supposed to be blackmail? Brandon thought.
Because honestly, I'm failing to see the downside in what you're offering. Still, he kept that thought to himself. Who knew how she’d react?
And as tempting as it was, Brandon couldn't do it. No way. He’d made a promise to Amanda and Isabella.
“Look…” he said finally. “How do I even put this? Okay. First, you're gorgeous. Sleeping with you isn't something any sane guy would turn down, blackmail or not. But I can't do that… and I really need you not to tell Laura.”
Monica's face flushed even hotter. She’d clearly burned through every shred of courage just to get this far.
Come to think of it, Brandon didn't even buy her threat. There was no way she’d actually rat him out to Laura, their manager.
Still, if that was the game Monica wanted to play, Brandon wasn't going to ruin it for her.
He had a stunning girl standing right in front of him, scraping together the guts to say, in the most roundabout way possible, that she wanted to sleep with him.
He couldn't just laugh at her or crush that bravado.
“I… I'm serious!” Monica tried to stand her ground, puffing up with clumsy defiance. “Why don't you want to? I… God… I thought I saw the way you were looking at me.”
And blackmail was the best way you could think of to flirt with me?
“No, you didn't misread anything. Of course!
You're hot as hell, what guy wouldn't want to…” That sent her blush into overdrive; Brandon could practically hear the kettle whistling through her ears.
“Hold on, let me explain. I do want to! I'm saying any guy would want to.
I just can't afford to lose my job… But also, I kind of promised someone else that…”
“Do you have a girlfriend? Wait, it wasn't that blonde, was it? Are you already cheating on your girlfriend with her and that's why you can't sleep with me?”
“No! I'm not cheating on anyone. It’s not a girlfriend.”
“Then you can sleep with me, you just don't want to?”
When did she pivot from mortified to borderline pissed off?
Brandon’s racing mind scrambled back through every rule of the wager he’d made with Isabella and Amanda.
Neither of them had ever mentioned a relationship.
Exclusivity, sure. But that was treated more like a clause in their bet than an actual commitment.
How was he supposed to handle something like this?
Turn her down, obviously. You gave your word.
“I want to! I mean, who wouldn't? But I can't. But I don't have a girlfriend, either, I think. Or maybe I do… It's complicated.”
As if bailing him out of the corner he’d backed into, the chatter of a group of members drifted down the path behind Monica, heading toward the thermal baths. She looked just as caught off guard as he was, stranded in the middle of their unresolved mess. Brandon thought on his feet.
“Look, give me a few days to think about it. What do you say? You waited this long to bring it up. Fair enough?”
It would have to be enough; three older gentlemen appeared at the entryway, towel wraps in hand, ready for the pools.
“Friday. That's all the time you get.”
Monica slipped away, leaving him standing there in a daze, trying to make sense of what the hell had just happened. Blackmail that was really just an invitation in disguise; a threat she clearly had zero intention of carrying out.
What a fucking trip.
As he got back to work, greeting the men and turning on the water intake for the thermal pool, Brandon came to one clear conclusion: the first thing he needed to do was tell Amanda and Isabella.
For better or worse, Monica’s confrontation had hammered home just how much he cared about his arrangement with the two women.
It didn't take any soul-searching to realize how deeply it mattered to him. It was the most extraordinary thing he’d had in his life in years.
Whatever else might come his way, he knew where his loyalties lay.