Chapter 2
The New York City pavement echoed beneath Sarah’s stilettos as she approached the hidden door to one of the city’s more secretive clubs.
Across the street, a man in a business suit gawked at her.
Her wig was freshly brushed after coming out of its bag in the hotel room.
Makeup as bold as her intentions illuminated her face.
Beneath her black double-breasted trench coat was an outfit that would make her prim and proper British mother dig out her Victorian fainting couch.
Fishnet stockings poked out from the bottom hem.
That was enough to send a message to everyone she was about to see in the club.
She had a membership, of course, obtained thanks to her job, of all things.
The Moreaus owned the most upscale sex club outside of New York City.
After two years of wandering around the place and looking at the charts and figures from the backend, Sarah knew exactly how to secure a membership as a “single and willing” member.
Sex clubs demanded as many single female members as possible, offering deep discounts and plenty of incentives to return many times.
Free drinks and food. First dibs on private rooms if they could secure a good date.
Their own personal bodyguard for the inevitable weirdo who thought good looks and money meant they could take whatever they wanted.
Other women had that problem. Not Sarah.
As soon as she became Angel, she rarely said no.
“Here comes trouble,” the bouncer muttered with a small grin. “Go easy on them tonight, tiger. Lots of newbies in there. Some conference in town.”
“Oh, good. Then I won’t be bored.” Sometimes, when there was no new blood, Sarah deigned to take on someone she had already been with once or twice before.
Usually, she liked to keep it new. Part of Angel’s persona was tallying up as many lovers as possible.
Part of the risk, which translated into part of the high.
Angel made all the stupid decisions and enacted every fantasy Sarah harbored in her thoughts. Every time she met someone new, it was like Christmas came so many days early.
Maybe, this time, it would be the best she ever had.
Maybe, this time, she would be able to forget.
Maybe, this time, she would reclaim what had been stolen from her.
She could never go as Sarah, the frumpy, recognizable assistant of one of the world’s richest businesswomen. But as Angel? She was another hottie, another body to play with.
Why, she got excited from just thinking about it.
The club was packed more than usual, but most of the newcomers were with dates.
Sarah didn’t get the same thrill from picking up cheaters.
Nor did she care to be the third wheel in somebody’s marriage.
So even though she received more than a few curious looks in her direction as she passed through the main room, she didn’t bother anyone with her attention.
Besides, Angel liked to get a feel for the crowd before making any decisions for the night.
Unlike some other clubs she had been to over the years (such as her boss’s), this one did not partake much in public displays of sex and nudity.
Most hookups happened behind closed doors of private rooms, and those looking for an exhibitionistic thrill could arrange to get on a stage in one of the back rooms. For all her strange behaviors, Sarah didn’t care much for exhibitionism.
Voyeurism, on the other hand, was a different matter.
There were “private” rooms with two-way mirrors, so the people inside could watch themselves and get off on being watched.
Except they couldn’t see who, and how many people, were watching.
Few hung around for the foreplay, anyway.
If Sarah timed it right, she could walk by a room as a couple made it to the main event.
Yet the dark and black lights made it difficult to see details.
Just a few half-naked bodies here and there getting it on.
Now, if a girl wasn’t going to hang out in the main room and wanted to find a partner or two for the evening? She had to know some of the bouncers well enough to gain admittance to the more VIP areas.
Admittance, if one did not pay for the privilege, was restricted.
The main VIP lobby was where those staying in New York chose to do their sleaziest business.
Women employed by the club got the biggest tips in there, whether they served drinks or conveniently shoved their pussies in everyone’s faces.
Some working girls had a partnership with the management.
In return for their unquestioned admittance, they talked their prospective clients into buying the most expensive drinks in the house.
Sarah was neither. She didn’t want to be paid to do what she did, for that killed the thrill. Besides, people behaved differently with women they thought they genuinely seduced as opposed to paying for the opportunity. Sarah wanted her lovers as emotionally raw as possible.
Soon after learning how this club worked, she made nice with the bouncers – sometimes really nice.
The weekend management was particularly interested in her motives.
She wasn’t hooking, and she wasn’t shopping for a rich spouse…
so, what was her story? Why did she want access to these powerful people?
Sarah told them she simply had a taste for the finer things, thanks to her British mother.
Well, Angel told them that. Deep inside, the real Sarah thought Because the man who wronged me would be in a room like this.
Russell Moreau was served a karma sandwich from hell, but Sarah had never received her personal vengeance.
She never received the closure she craved.
The bouncer standing outside the entrance to the VIP room looked her up and down before opening the door for her. Instantly, the scent of expensive cigars, cologne, and liquor hit her, but not before she spotted a small group sitting in a circle of chairs, chatting.
“Good luck,” the bouncer said, before closing the door again. “Tough crowd tonight.”
If guests had gathered in this room, it was either to unwind (such as a bachelor party) or conduct serious business outside of the public eye. Yes, some people want to do business in pleasure clubs. That was apparently what Sarah stumbled upon with her chosen group.
They spoke a mashup of English and some other language Sarah did not immediately recognize. German? No. Swedish? Possibly. Maybe Norwegian.
Ah, if it were none of those, it must have been Danish.
Now, what were a group of Danish businesspeople doing in New York? Fuck it. Sarah knew. No good. Since when were Danes ever up to any good?
She perched atop a stool, feet swinging and smirk keeping a keen eye on the trio in their flustered circle. Two of the men were older. Tall, thin, either previously blond and now gray or still clinging to a few blond roots.
The third was unlike both of them, although they conversed as easily as the other two.
Wait a second… While the third might have been a man, Sarah had a hunch. That’s a woman. A confident, masculine woman who didn’t mind sharing this space with two others who spoke her language.
She was more slender, of course, but fiercely toned, her frame threatening to burst from her bespoke suit, although not for the fault of the suit’s tailoring.
Sarah knew a custom-made piece of clothing when she saw one.
No, what made this woman exceptionally powerful was how she was forced to sling her elbows against her knees and brace her feet on the ground.
She didn’t slouch. Yet her broad shoulders suggested she worked out. A lot. Hello, there.
But what tickled Sarah’s fancy the most was the face.
Smooth, angular jaw. Cheekbones that gave character without claiming the whole face.
Wide forehead with only a hint of a few lines.
Eyes as blue as the lights shining in the hallway.
Brows that furrowed whenever the men spoke.
Occasionally, the woman said something in English before jumping back into Danish.
Her English accent was familiarly American.
As it so happened, this woman and Sarah made eye contact exactly once during the meeting. It was in that moment, when a chill shot through Sarah’s body, that she realized she would be sleeping with this woman tonight.
Perhaps the woman didn’t know it yet. Look at the way she glances back at me. One last time before giving the men her undivided attention.
There were others in the room. Some readily available for a woman to make their nighttime dreams come true. Some of those even approached Sarah, informing her of her beauty, in case she didn’t know she possessed it.
They wanted to buy her drinks. She wanted them to leave her alone.
It took an hour for the two older blond men to shake the American’s hand and excuse themselves from the VIP room.
By then, Sarah had her pick of three different people, two of whom were still in the room.
But she didn’t care about them. The only one she cared about was the woman firing off a text.
Either way, she wasn’t looking in Sarah’s direction.
A shame. Because those dazzling blue eyes should be soaking her up. Always.
Sarah admired the way her nimble hands punched numbers and letters into her phone.
The curl of her lips into a smile as she thought herself awfully clever.
The relaxed posture that took over when she decided she was now off the clock.
She sank back into her chair, still comfortably powerful, commanding, and regal in the way she sat.
She was both open to communication and closed off from the world.
If only Sarah could get this woman to notice her.
She gestured to one of the servers. “Is she a bourbon lover?”
“Close.” That got Sarah a small smile. “Scotch.”
“Get me one, please.”
The server glanced between Sarah and the woman. “Aiming high tonight, even for you.”