Chapter Twelve
Roe
My next day of work was, thankfully, completely uneventful.
I actually didn’t even see Frank, save for a flash of him as he walked past the door when it was open.
That didn’t mean, though, that I wanted to linger. So I changed and got out of there within five minutes of walking out of the piano lounge.
My mind had been restless and spinning ever since I got home and locked my door.
On the one hand, there were all the many worries about this new job of mine, about Frank, about my personal safety.
On the other, there were the (maybe even more abundant) thoughts of Milo.
I wish I could claim they were more of those very reasonable ones about working with a stranger, needing to figure out what his last name was, and being cautious about accepting any more gift-type items from him.
It was not that.
Nope.
It was mostly my mind flashing back to him grabbing me and pushing me up against a wall, then saying all that stuff about not having to pay women to sleep with him.
He wasn’t wrong.
Sure, many rich, powerful, and handsome men paid for escorts simply to make life easier. There were no messy feelings. It was all as personal as a business transaction.
But I got the feeling Milo was the kind of man who prided himself on his charm, on how he could get a woman into bed and both have a great time. Without any other enticements. Not even dinner. I bet that man could walk into a bar, approach a woman, and leave with her without even buying a round.
God, I swear that man could probably crook a finger at me and I’d come running. Or crawling on my hands and knees.
I needed to get a grip.
I notched the treadmill up, forcing my body from a leisurely jog to a full run. Even if I was pretty sure no amount of exercise would make my body forget about how much it ached for the man.
By the time I climbed off the machine, my legs were wobbling, close to complete failure, and I needed to plant my ass at the juice bar and rehydrate before my muscles would even think about walking me back to my place to shower.
The only thing motivating me was the little text I woke up to that very morning that demanded I get in the ride-share when it showed up at eleven. But was quick to add the location of our meeting so it didn’t sound like I was being kidnapped and taken to a second location to be murdered.
We were meeting at a spa.
Not just any spa.
A super luxury spa.
I was a little excited, even if we were just going to meet in the parking lot.
Because, well, dresses.
If nothing else.
The car pulled up outside the building, and I climbed out, looking around but not seeing Milo anywhere.
Nerves fluttered in my belly as I made my way to the door, feeling like I might step inside and be clocked as a fraud immediately.
It wasn’t always this way.
In another city, in another life, I would walk into spas like I belonged there. I wouldn’t give pricey dresses a second thought.
But that was back when I thought I had money. Lots of money. Retirement kind of money. Finding out it was all gone had ripped the rug out from under me.
It had been terrifying.
Suddenly, there was no money for luxuries. Hell, there were times when there was no money for food.
It had been a whole new way of life. One that was full of fear, of trying to prepare for any eventuality that might occur so I wasn’t without a place to live or food in my stomach.
Every purchase that I didn’t need for survival had to be hemmed and hawed. Then often regretted. I still felt guilty about a new pair of jeans I bought three months back, even though my last ones literally split down the whole butt.
So, yeah, it had been a while since I saw the inside of a luxurious place that I wasn’t working at.
The doors slid open.
I walked inside.
And the receptionist offered me a sweet smile.
“Miss Langston?”
“Yes.”
“Mr. Grant is waiting for you,” she said.
Then I was led through the spa, past a heated pool, the sauna, and several closed doors where I imagined they did massages, facials, or whatever other treatments they offered.
In the middle of the hallway, the woman paused to knock before opening the door and ushering me into a lounge.
It was a windowless room with several different seating sections, a coffee bar, and some snacks laid out.
But it was only Milo inside.
“Thanks, Ash,” he told the woman, who took it as her cue to leave, turned, and closed the door.
“Hey,” I said, feeling awkward, shifting my feet.
“Hey. I figured this was a neutral location. If someone is watching you, they’d just assume you were pampering yourself.”
“Yeah, it’s a good idea. Frank would think this is ’typical woman stuff,’” I said. “His beliefs on gender roles work in my favor sometimes.”
“Want to grab a coffee? It’s surprisingly good here,” he said, gesturing toward his own cup.
Just to have something to do (and, hey, free coffee with all the syrups and stuff I’d never pay for any other time), I made a coffee before approaching him.
“Alright, before we get to the dresses, I have a few other things to give you.”
He pulled up a bag and placed it on the table.
Again, he’d clearly thought it through. Because he had bags from the spa. So when I left with them, nothing would look suspicious.
He reached in, pulling out…
“A flashlight?” I asked, finally sitting down.
“The camera in Frank’s office sounds hardwired. So you can’t use a jammer in there. But a really high-powered flashlight aimed right at it would make it impossible for anyone to see.
“I don’t know if it will work, if you can open the door without being seen, but if you can and shine the light right in, you will be good so long as the camera is whited out with it.”
“Okay. And, yeah, I think I can.”
There was a strange look on his face at that.
Almost as if he were disappointed. Like he possibly didn’t want that to be the case, that he didn’t want me to go back in.
But that had to be wishful thinking.
“Then that brings me to solution number two.”
He reached into the bag, pulling out some clunky red and silver metal thing in a kind of U-shape with a little metal bolt.
“What the heck is that?”
“It’s a door lock,” he explained. “Normally, you’d use one that goes in the jamb, but since your door doesn’t have a lock, you have to get more innovative.
“You slide this part under the door, then tighten down this bolt. Unless someone is throwing their whole body against it, it’s not coming down. And the best part, it acts like something is just jammed. So if Frank tries it, you can just claim your clothes or shoes or something got stuck under.”
That… that was genius.
“Thank you. That’s going to make me feel a lot better.”
“Good. I’m glad. I would be careful to make sure he doesn’t find it.”
“Definitely.”
“Speaking of not finding things,” he said, getting up.
He made his way over to a chair where a garment bag was draped.
It looked… full.
He pulled the zipper down, and there was my emerald green one.
My heart leapt.
I’d wanted that one for so long.
And now I was getting it.
But then he whipped that one to the side.
Then there was the blue one.
Then a reddish-black one.
A black one in a different style from the one I had.
A deep purple.
And, finally, a sparkling cream one.
I didn’t realize the burning in my eyes was tears until I felt wetness on my lashes.
Embarrassed, I reached up and pretended just to rub my eye.
“That’s too much.”
“You overstated how expensive they were,” he shot back, shrugging it off. “Now,” he added, bringing the cream dress over to me as my fingers toyed with the green one. “The alterations.”
He sat down beside me and the world constricted to nothing but him.
The brush of his thigh against mine, his body heat, his spicy cologne that was just strong enough to beg you to lean in, to inhale, to maybe bury your head in his neck and run your tongue…
No.
God.
What the hell?
“Roe?” he called.
My head snapped up, finding his dark-eyed gaze on me.
“Yeah?”
“You okay?”
“Sorry, I was… lost in a thought. Okay. So, the tailoring.”
“Right. The local tailor and I hemmed and hawed over this. Normally, you’d think the bodice would be the best place for a woman to stash something. But your dresses are too tight. We went with here.”
He turned the dress to the side. Nestled inside was a small pouch with a tiny little snap.
“This will look most hidden in the dark dresses, obviously. Shadows would be doing a lot of work. But anytime you can, keeping this arm lowered would be smart.”
It was my non-dominant side. I could do that.
“This is great.”
“Please, for my peace of mind, don’t forget the phone. Keep the sound off but power on. This pocket is blackout, so even if the light comes on, you can’t see it. We tested it.”
“Okay. Great. I promise I’ll keep it on me. I have it on me today,” I added, petting my purse.
“Good. If possible, don’t take it out until you’re away from the casino. Unless you’re in danger, of course. Just try not to take any chance that Frank could come across it.”
“I won’t. Trust me, I’m…” I paused, sighed.
“Hey,” Milo said, his hand landing on my thigh just above my knee. “If you want out, just say it,” he said, fingers squeezing.
I glanced down at his touch.
Instead of comforting, though, it felt… igniting. My skin warmed, spread, the fire caught. And suddenly, I felt too hot. My clothes, too tight.
My gaze cut up to his to find him already watching me.
“I don’t want out.”
My voice was breathless.
My gaze couldn’t stop slipping to his lips.
His hand slid up, pressing softly to my cheek.
“I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”
I didn’t know the man’s name.
But I believed him.
“I know.”
His hand shifted, fingers moving to tuck some of my hair behind my ear.
My head tilted, leaning into the barely-there touch.
His gaze slipped.
His fingers grazed.
His hand closed around the back of my neck.
Then when his gaze met mine again, the touch tightened.
I leaned.
He closed the distance.
Then his lips were on mine.
It was careful at first. Almost as if he expected me to pull away.
But when I moaned and moved closer, his head tilted, and the kiss went from soft to searing.
I reached outward, hands sliding up his chest.
His hands moved, slipping around my waist, then gently pulling.
He didn’t need to force the movement, though. I happily went up on my knees and moved over until I was straddling him.
His fingers flexed on my hips.
I sank down.
A deep moan escaped me at the hard line of his desire against my own need.
My hips rocked.
Milo’s groan vibrated against my lips. When mine broke away to moan, his mouth chased mine, like he was already addicted, like he needed another hit.
I rolled my hips again and when my lips parted on a whimper, his tongue slipped inside to sweep over mine—slow at first, then harder, hungrier.
Milo’s hands tightened on my hips, guiding my movements, driving me up.
The desire tightened, coiled, threatened to snap.
My lips ripped from his, my breath panting out of me.
“Tell me your name,” I demanded. “Please.”
“Milo,” he said, brows pinching.
“No. Your whole name,” I whimpered, the sound catching on a moan as his hardness pressed just right, as the pleasure screwed tighter, then splintered apart.
Milo’s arms went up from my hips, wrapping around me, holding me tight as I collapsed against him, breathing into his neck.
“Grassi. Milo Grassi,” he whispered in my ear.
I sank into him, into the trust he’d given me along with his name.
But before I could even feel my heartbeat go back to normal, the sound of voices started to drift down the hall, coming closer, pausing.
I flew off of Milo’s lap, hitting the couch hard, making my back crack against the arm.
Milo rushed to his feet, gathering the dresses and focusing on putting them all back into the garment bag while I tossed the lock and flashlight into the spa bag.
“I’ll leave all this at the front desk for you,” Milo said, grabbing the spa bag from my lap as the trio of women descended on the coffee station.
“I can carry them…”
“I didn’t get use of the lounge without paying for a spa package. Enjoy some relaxation, Roe. You deserve it.”
With that, he was gone.
I just sat there for a moment, staring at the gray wall in front of me as the women chatted as they moved to one of the seating areas.
That was all just… a lot.
The kiss, the grinding, the orgasm, his name, the interruption, and, yeah, the spa package.
My mind kept trying to grab one of the subjects only to have it slip between my fingers.
“Miss Langston?” a voice called, making me jolt.
I turned over my shoulder to find someone in lavender scrubs waiting for me. “I have your massage ready.”
Okay.
Well then.
I guess I was getting a massage.
Lord knew my overwhelmed body could certainly use some relaxation.
And maybe while it got that, I could sort through all the thoughts in my head.
But two hours later, I was no less mixed up than before the pampering.
I grabbed my things from the front desk, then made my way out front.
To find a ride-share waiting for me.
A girl could really get used to this princess treatment.
But I had to ground myself and remember that all of this pampering was because Milo wanted something from me. And that it had an expiration date.
One thing I did know, though, was that I now had his real name.
Milo Grassi.
It was time to figure out who I was working with.