CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
JORDAN
“You want me to do what now with my ankle?”
Jessa’s disbelieving shriek prompted peals of laughter from me and Mercedes. Jessa was on the pole on a Tuesday morning, with Mercedes waiting in the wings to try next. I’d invited all the Fairchild ladies over for a little bit of pole dancing and caffeine, but Cora had a speaking engagement lined up somewhere out of town, so it was just the three of us. I was formally launching my Teach My Entire Family How To Pole Dance campaign. Even if they didn’t win any awards and didn’t end up on the stage at Gemstones, this was the best way I knew to spend time.
“You’ve got this,” I coached Jessa, gently guiding her ankle where it needed to be on the pole. “Make sure you press your weight in here”—I squeezed the part of her leg to focus on—“and the rest of your body will compensate to keep you balanced.”
“This is insane, Jordan!” Jessa said between laughs. Both Mercedes and I watched with huge smiles as Jessa followed my instructions and crept up the pole another few inches. She was a solid few feet off the ground now.
“Look at you!” I clapped. “You’re on the pole!”
Jessa screamed, squeezing her eyes shut. “I shouldn’t look down, right?”
“You’re not that high up,” Mercedes said.
The more time I spent with Mercedes, Jessa, and Cora, the more I began to see them as friends and even, kind of, sisters. It was so easy to be around them. So fun. So relaxed. They knew where I came from, so we didn’t need to dodge any awkward topics. The truth was just out there, and they didn’t judge me. They didn’t pity me.
“You ready for the next move?” I asked Jessa.
“I guess!”
I laid out in a calm, level voice exactly what she needed to do next. These girls were beginners, which was so fun. Watching the shock and awe in new pole performers was a highlight for me. That moment when someone realized they really could do that crazy thing with their body. As I watched Jessa tentatively attempt the next progression on the pole, something warm and fuzzy spread through me.
I’d never tried to teach people like this; I’d only ever worked with novice strippers at the club, helping them learn some tricks that would translate better to the stage. But damn, this felt good. Especially as Jessa’s face lit up with pride and she let out another peal of laugher.
“Mother clucker, I’m doin’ it!”
I coached Jessa through another couple of steps before I could tell that her arms were getting shaky and she needed to come down. I snapped a few pictures before I guided her through the dismount. She had both feet on the ground and the three of us were high-fiving and clapping when Seven returned from his morning errands.
He wore his gym clothes but had his laptop bag along with his workout bag, which he set on a stool. His keys jangled on the countertop, and he slid his coat off then came over to us, looking amused.
“Did I miss something?”
“Oh, nothing major. I just scaled a steel pole under the incredible guidance of this lady,” Jessa said, knocking my hip.
“Is it pole lessons day?” Seven asked.
“Sure is. And if you stick around long enough, your second lesson will happen. Right after Mercedes takes her turn,” I said, waggling my eyebrows at her.
“Oh, you’ve already started lessons?” Jessa looked over at Seven.
“More or less,” Seven said with a boyish smile. It was hard not to melt on the spot, looking at him. He’d been trimming his hair less, allowing the top to grow the tiniest bit unruly while the sides remained shaved down. A hint of dark waves emerged, and paired with the dimple that flashed during these boyish smiles, and the broad expanse of muscles that both protected me and sent me flying to the heights of pleasure…
Playing it cool around Seven in front of other people was now the challenge of the century. I had no problem climbing him like a cat up a tree, but I didn’t want everyone to know it, either.
“Jordan’s a good teacher,” Jessa said.
“She is,” Seven agreed, leaning on the back of the couch. “Even when the student doesn’t want to learn.”
“Would that be you?” Mercedes asked with a giggle.
Seven cocked a heartbreaker smile, the type that sent a gush of warmth straight to my panties. I turned away from him; looking at him head-on was dangerous right now. I needed to focus on this girl time. “Mercedes, are you ready? It’s all you, girl.”
Seven retreated to the bedroom while we continued with lessons. Time melted away in a fun, laughter-filled, pole-gripping blur. Before I knew it, Mercedes was damn near the top of the pole, and I heard the knocking of a knife against the cutting board. Seven was starting lunch, which meant my girl date had to end soon so I could get ready for my pick-up shift that night at the club.
Jessa collected our used coffee mugs from the end table as I safely maneuvered Mercedes to the ground. “What’s for lunch, Seven?”
“Turkey sandwiches, fresh veggies, avocado and mayo.” He jerked his chin toward the high-fiber bread nearby. “You want one?”
“Sounds good, but I’m meeting Damian for lunch at the penthouse,” Jessa said.
“What about you, Mercedes?” I tipped my head toward Seven’s food prep in the kitchen. “You want one?”
She smiled shyly, red-faced and still ecstatic from her progress on the pole. “I need to go meet Trace and Willow, but thanks for the offer.”
I realized, then, that I had extended Seven’s offer. Because this apartment felt like my home, too. The thought thudded awkwardly through me as Jessa and Mercedes began picking up their things, slipping on shoes, finding coats.
Wasn’t I supposed to be finding my own place? Moving out of here?
The coziness of this life at Seven’s side, with my brothers and their significant others on the sidelines, was a lot more than I’d counted on. It made it hard to want to leave, now that I’d finally opened up a few inches of room in my heart for them all. I’d been ignoring all the most recent available apartment emails that were coming in from the rental search engine I signed up for.
But I needed to make good on the agreement with Seven: this is an interim solution. Even though my heart ached for it to be more permanent.
I tried to shove the thoughts away, focusing instead on giving big hugs to Jessa and Mercedes and seeing them out the door. Once all the goodbyes were said and loose plans made for another meet-up, Seven had my turkey sandwich plated and waiting for me.
“Lunch,” he said.
That same creeping warmth and tenderness I’d tried to shove away earlier came slinking back. He took a bite of his sandwich, seemingly unaware of how sweet he was. How thoughtful. What a good caretaker and protector and lover.
“Are you crying?”
I wiped away a spilt tear, laughing softly. “I guess so.”
“Everything okay?”
“I was just thinking about how wonderful you are.”
He laughed as he chewed. “Yeah right.”
I slid onto the stool facing the island. We were in our usual positions. I looked him dead in the eye. “I’m serious, Seven. You are wonderful.”
He swallowed his food, pausing before the next bite. “So are you.”
I picked up my sandwich and smiled at him before I took a big, crunchy bite.
My shift at the club started off low-key. I was getting ready in the Gems lounge, picking out my clothes for the shift and chatting with Roxie and Clara our House Mom about which hair style I should go with. We decided on soft waves, so Clara helped me curl my hair while I finished my makeup. Roxie went out to perform as I put the finishing touches on the night’s style.
Just when my lips were the perfect shade of red to match my stretchy red boy shorts and bikini combo, Joss strode into the Gems lounge, beelining for me.
“Hey, lover,” I said casually, giving myself a once-over in the full-length mirror. “What are you doing back here?”
“Looking for Sapphire,” she said with a smirk. “You’ve got an eager fan outside, waiting for you.”
I snorted. “Already? I haven’t even gone on.”
“It’s someone from the weekend. I recognize him. You danced for him and his friends in the VIP room I think, too.”
I blinked a few times. “That doesn’t narrow it down.”
“Trust me—you’ll remember when you see him. He’s got money. I remember him because he left me a thousand-dollar tip that night. I’m sure you made even more off him.”
My eyes rounded. “Ohhh, I bet I know who it is.”
“There we go. Well, he’s waiting for ya, sister. He seems impatient.”
I fixed a few stray hairs before I straightened my back, ready to head out. “Did you let him know I charge $1,000/minute to come out early?”
Joss cackled as she strode out of the lounge. I followed her a moment later, my eyes adjusting to the dim, colored lighting of the club. I hadn’t even taken two steps before he was at my side.
“Sapphire. There you are.” The blond from last weekend filled my vision, almost too close for comfort. With the heels, we were roughly the same height. His hair was slicked back in the same upper-crust fashion I saw in wealthy circles, and he wore a similar business casual outfit. But with him standing this close, I could see the strain in his face. The lines around the eyes, the way he seemed both somehow dead tired and jacked up. An urgency radiated from him that nearly choked me.
“Hey.” I tried to sound friendly, but I couldn’t mask the surprise. Over his shoulder, I saw Seven standing at attention, mere feet away. He looked ready to pounce. I lifted my palm slightly so he could see: Hang tight. Everything’s fine.
“Do you remember me?” the blond asked.
“Of course.” I flashed a smile. But I couldn’t think of his name, only that he was Cora’s horrible ex. “Tell me your name again.”
His face fell. “You don’t fucking remember me.”
I touched his arm, sensing a storm brewing beneath the surface. As a Hail Mary pass, my brain coughed up the name I’d seen on that business card before I lost it the other night: Eli.
“Eli. Don’t be like that.”
A smile curled at the corner of his mouth. “You know how to be slick, don’t you?”
“Practically a water slide.”
His chest hefted with a laugh, his gaze sliding over my face, down to my breasts. Everything inside me revolted at the attention; flirting with the clients was normal and expected, but the way he watched me felt wrong. I needed to figure out what he was after and whether those extra thousands of dollars would be accompanying him. Some guys wanted pure titillation, but other guys wanted a therapist. If Eli just needed a shoulder to cry on, well, putting up with a little unpleasantness was the name of the game in this industry—even if he was someone unsavory. And I could see a healthy savings account in my future if Eli crossed paths with me more often. Within these walls, I couldn’t refuse a client just because they had bad blood with somebody else.
“You know I’m about to go do a show,” I told him. “Are you going to stay to watch?”
“Of course. How could I miss my favorite?”
“I hoped you’d say that.” I bit my bottom lip.
“Just wanted you to know I’m here,” he told me. “I already talked to Eddie. Meet me in the VIP room straight after your show, okay, gorgeous?”
I sent him my sexiest wink, and he wandered off, occasionally looking over his shoulder to find my gaze. Seven’s curiosity about the exchange was palpable from where he stood. And it was hard to miss his flexed fists as Eli strutted past. But I didn’t have time to chat. The music had changed; the lights were dimming.
I sent Seven a reassuring smile and waited for my cue, adjusting my outfit one final time before stepping up on stage.
Seven stayed closer to the stage than normal. But he didn’t need to worry. I met guys like Eli all the time. Entitled, as evidenced by his immediate demands on my time, and arrogant, seen in the way he glanced at those around him and even in the way he looked at me. Not to mention questionable histories regarding domestic violence. But most important: rich. Eli seemed to be leaking money. And he needed someone to catch the overflow.
I was happy to be that person. Eli would only ever exist as a part of my world within these walls. None of these men existed for me in the real world.
My show was intense and much more acrobatic than usual. I had extra energy I didn’t know what to do with, which I could only attribute to the way Seven fueled—and filled—me. The stage was littered with bills by the time I took my bow, including plenty of fifties and hundreds that Eli himself had tossed to me.
Keep it coming, Eli.
I had barely made it off the steps before Eli’s commanding gaze distracted me. He tipped his head in the direction of the VIP room, already impatient. I followed his quick strides, blowing kisses to some of my admirers as I breezed past. Nights like these, I did feel like a celebrity—in high demand, leaving behind a trail of heartbroken fans who wouldn’t get their turn.
I liked to feel wanted, desired, lauded. Especially after a lifetime of feeling the opposite.
“You liked the show?” I asked breathlessly once we breezed into the VIP room. I shut the door, spotting Seven along the wall right outside.
“You’re the best stripper on the East Coast,” Eli said. “And you know it.”
“So I’ll take that as a yes,” I purred, strutting toward the pole in the center of the room while Eli sank onto the couch. “Did you order any drinks? What can I get for you?”
“Just you. For now.” Eli reached into his pocket and pulled out a thick wad of bills. Something else tumbled out along with it, a little baggie.
“Oh, you dropped your—” I started.
He seemed to notice the extra item at the same time I spoke. He smirked, stuffing it back into his pocket. “That wasn’t supposed to come out. Unless you want some?”
That’s when I caught the slight slur in his words. He was probably drunk as hell. Which meant he needed whatever was in that baggie to continue functioning. Cocaine would account for his strange energy. I swore half the city’s elite snorted coke on a daily basis, based on what I saw in the shadows of the club. I shook my head, starting a slow spin around the pole.
“I’m good, thanks.”
He huffed with a little laugh, returning to the wad of bills. “So. Sapphire.” He thumbed through them, almost lazily. “Why didn’t you call me after the weekend?”
I blinked a few times, calculating my response. I opted for the truth. “That’s against stripper code.”
His gaze snapped up to mine. “Oh come on. I’m not dumb.”
“Well, would you be back here for me already if I’d texted?” I wanted to sound coy, not annoyed like I actually was. “You know girls worth their shit don’t text or call back on the first try.” I accentuated my statement with a slow, sexy drop down the pole, gripping it above my head.
He seemed pleased by this response—and maybe distracted by the view. He nodded to himself, lacing his fingers together. “Come over here, gorgeous. Let me look at you.”
“You sure you don’t want a show?” I came down until I was practically squatting, opening up my knees as far to the sides as I could, giving him a full-frontal view. He leaned back on the couch.
“We need to start getting to know each other a little better,” he said.
“I’d like that.” Lie flashed through my head.
“Then come over here.”
I strutted toward him slowly, taking extra time to assess my game plan. I didn’t think Eli was the type I’d need to use the panic button for—and I was relieved that Seven was right outside the door—but he had an undercurrent that was hard to grab onto and understand. His mood seemed like a riptide, invisible and powerful, with the potential to pull me under if things went sideways.
When I was within arm’s reach, he grabbed my thighs. I tutted, stepping away. “We don’t touch in here.”
“Come on,” he groaned.
“Club rules. Every girl will tell you the same.”
“How much money do you want to change the rules?” He lifted his brow, clearly challenging me.
“No amount. I like my job and I intend to keep it.” I pushed at his chest, sending him into a reclined position. “And if you let me do my job, you won’t even need to touch me. Let me take care of things.”
I started a sexy lap dance, making sure to brush and tease extra hard. He was the type who wanted more and didn’t take well to hearing no. Again, not unheard of. Eli kept his hands to himself while I danced, letting out a satisfied noise once I returned to the pole to continue dancing.
“How did you get this sexy?”
“I swore to the witch I wouldn’t share the secret with mortals,” I retorted.
He hefted with a laugh, his gaze darkening. “So if I leave my number again, will you call?”
I shrugged.
“If you won’t call me,” he continued, “let me call you.”
My belly constricted. An even worse idea. “I’m not in the habit of mixing work with my real life.”
Eli thumbed through the bills again. “And I’m not in the habit of staying in seedy places like strip clubs long-term. So if we want to get to know each other, it needs to be in the real world.”
We were suddenly negotiating, and I felt like I’d shown up unprepared. I swallowed hard, watching him count out twenty hundred-dollar bills.
“Here. Give me your number.” He tossed the bills onto the floor. I didn’t race to pick them up, but I knew there was two grand on the floor right now.
I gripped the pole above my head and started another slow slide to the floor. Strippers were ready for moments like these. Amongst us, we had a communal number to hand out when pressed by men. I rattled it off. Nobody checked that phone; it lived permanently in the back room, turned off. Eli nodded as he typed the number into his phone.
And then he called it.
He tutted a moment later, swiping it off. “It went straight to voicemail, and the voice wasn’t yours.”
“You’re in the club, if you listen without bass thumping in the background you’ll hear differently,” I countered.
“Show me that it’s a real number.”
I blinked. “I can’t. All my things are in my locker. I’m working—”
He cleared his throat loudly, annoyance seeping out of him. He reached into his other pocket, brought out another wad of cash, and then began thumbing through the bills. “Truthfully, I don’t even think that number is real. But I’ll give you the rest of this”—he held up the money—“if you can prove to me it is.”
He must have caught me drooling over the cash, because he added, “You’ll be leaving with ten grand total.”
I swallowed hard, giving it one last shot. “Why do you want my number so bad, anyway? You look well connected. You’re clearly wealthy. You can have whatever you want.”
His grin turned a little evil. “And I want you.”
“You flatter me.”
“Sapphire, you’re the woman of my dreams. I want to get to know you better.” For all the yellow flags he’d been dropping, I did catch a note of sincerity in his voice. Except he didn’t even know me. I was the woman of his fantasies—made up, not real, completely fictitious.
“Don’t tell me no,” he said in a low voice. “I’m a good person to have around if you need something. Not just money. I am well connected like you said. In fact, you have no idea how well connected.”
“I’d love to find out,” I said.
He chuckled softly. “You ever had someone you hated? Someone who did you wrong?”
I shrugged, walking back to the couch when he patted to the open spot beside him. I sank onto it, just a few inches of space between us.
“I can make those people suffer,” he said, his voice going even lower, more threatening. “I can take care of you. Whatever you need done, I can do it for you, gorgeous. Do you believe me?”
I crossed my legs, pretending to think about it. I didn’t need anyone to take care of me. Not when I had Seven. No, I needed his money. But the more he talked, the less I wanted it.
“If you’d do me the honor of spending some time with me”—he grabbed my hand, rubbing his fingers over my knuckles before lacing our fingers together—“I promise I’ll take care of you. I just want to get to know you. And in return, I’ll take care of whatever you need done.”
“Like, bring down my foes?” I asked with a little laugh, trying to make a joke out of it.
He nodded. “I’ve brought down a foe or two. Three, actually.” He snort-laughed to himself. “I’ve brought down people they told me were impossible to bring down. Including a special little band of brothers on Wall Street that nobody likes.” The words dripped with condescension. “I could tell you some stories. But that’s for another time, gorgeous.”
Something about his comment struck a deep chord. There had to be plenty of brothers on Wall Street. Plenty of beef and warring factions among the elite.
But what if he’s talking about your brothers?
I was suddenly desperate to find out.
“I’ll give you my number,” I blurted. It wasn’t my real number. But it was a back-up number that redirected to my phone, with its own separate voicemail. I kept it around for emergencies like these – but had never used it until now. I struggled to remember the number I’d etched into my brain at the start of my career. “I like what you’re saying, Eli. We should get to know each other.”
“Figured you’d come around.” He looked haughty as he swiped his phone on again. “Let’s hear it. And this better not be another fake.”
I rattled off the number. “It’ll go to voicemail, but you’ll hear my voice this time. I’ll text you as soon as I get back to the lounge to show you it’s mine.” My heart pounded as I spoke. I couldn’t believe I’d done it. But the intuitive nudge was there.
I didn’t want to spend any more time than necessary around Eli. But he might know something that I should know too.
He tapped on his phone for a moment, then looked up at me with a smile. “We’ll see, won’t we?”
“We will.”
“I’m gonna head to the bathroom. I’ll look for your text.”
I nodded. He’d come today just to lock me down, get a number. And he’d achieved it. He pocketed his phone, leaving all the money behind.
“All right, gorgeous. I’ll be seeing you soon.”
I blew him a kiss. He left the VIP room, and I made quick work of scooping up all the money. Seven stepped inside a few moments later.
“Everything okay?” he asked.
“More than okay.” It was hard not to sound giddy.
“He came back.” It wasn’t a question, and it was more than just an observation, too. I scooped up a few more hundreds, stuffing them in my bra.
“He did. And today I made ten grand off him.” A painful thud hit my ribs as soon as the words left my mouth. But at what cost? While I hadn’t given him my real phone number, I’d given him my burner line, which directed straight to my phone via an app. I could cut it off or delete it at any time – but I felt like I’d crossed a line still. “I know he’s an ex for a very good reason. But I told you—in here, I have a job to do.”
Cora and I hadn’t talked too much about her ex. I’d gotten the sense it was the last topic she wanted to bring up. And I could already think of a list of twenty-five reasons why she’d want to divorce Eli, after less than two hours in his presence.
And you’ve opened up the lines of communication with him.If he hadn’t made that comment about three brothers on Wall Street, I’d have stuck with the communal phone number that led to nowhere. But I needed to see what else he had to say. Just in case.
But Cora’s ex?
Shame flooded me. This was an unsettling situation of the highest order, and one that could affect my soon-to-be sister-in-law, a woman I deeply admired and respected.
Fuuuuuck.
“You gotta stay away from him,” Seven said, standing with me once I’d scooped up the last bill.
“I can’t exactly turn him away,” I reminded Seven. “He requested me, and he got me. That’s how it goes.”
Seven didn’t say anything more. I squeezed his arm.
“I hear you, though,” I said. “My plan is to just milk him for money. That’s what I’m here for. It’s what I was hired to do. That doesn’t change just because of who he used to be married to.”
Seven nodded, looking like he wanted to add more.
“Besides,” I went on, “I think he might have information that my brothers should know. He made a weird comment in there.”
Seven’s chin dipped. “Weird comment?”
“Not about me or anything. About…ruining three brothers on Wall Street or something.” When I caught his doubtful look, I said, “I have no idea what it was about. But I want to see if he says anything else. Men confess things in the VIP room all the time. What if he was somehow involved in this whole mess my brothers are in?”
Seven let out a measured sigh. “The likelihood of that is…very small,” he said.
“But if there’s a chance? I want to find out.”
Seven didn’t look entirely convinced. But he had nothing to worry about.
Even though the mere thought of Eli sent my stomach churning.