Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Sienna
The present
“Not the ankle,” I snap.
“Sorry, Mistress.” The client goes back to running his tongue along the arch of my foot, and I inwardly cringe.
To keep my mind occupied, I do the math. Five thousand an hour divided by one hundred thousand. Twenty hours. I can deal with foot fetish client for twenty hours.
The plan is to “discover” some misplaced client invoices and cash left over from Jade’s time as madam. And to make sure my husband doesn’t screw me, I’m keeping him out of the loop, going straight to Nic with cash in hand.
I let out a jagged breath. This will work. It has to.
The client groans against my toes, believing that sigh was for him. I’m not one to yuck someone’s yum, but let’s just say that when this is over, no one is ever touching my feet again.
The timer on my phone chimes, and I shove my heel into the client’s chest, nearly knocking him on his ass. “That’s our session.”
“Thank you, Goddess, for allowing me to worship you.”
“You call that worship? With such a lackluster performance, I haven’t decided if you get a repeat opportunity,” I say in a bored tone.
“Oh, but please, Mistress,” he begs.
Men. They always want what they can’t have. And then once they have it, they don’t know what to fucking do with it.
“Get up,” I tell him with a disgusted look. “I will give you one more chance. Do not disappoint me.”
He hops to his feet, clasping his hands together. “Yes, Mistress.”
Five thousand in cash and a backdated invoice later, I’m feeling much better about my odds of survival.
After cleaning my feet with antibacterial wipes, I move downstairs to the basement, checking out the setup for tonight’s private event.
Clipboard in hand, I review the auction details.
“Ladies,” I call, and the girls gather round.
“Let’s go over the rundown for tonight. I’ll take the stage and get the crowd warmed up, and from there, I will call Fiona, and then you, Merlot. ”
“Why does Fiona get to go first?” Merlot bitches.
“Because we’re going in alphabetical order,” I tell her in a no-nonsense tone.
“Once you are on stage, I’ll go through your attributes, hyping you up, and the men will bid.
Once your auction is over, you will immediately join the winning bidder on the floor.
” Having learned that lesson from my own nearly disastrous auction, I’m not going to risk cherries being popped backstage by jealous bitches. “Any questions?”
“Where the fuck is Remi?” Michele appears, drunk off his ass. His drug and alcohol use is getting more and more out of hand, to where I’m having to practically run the hotel and lounge on top of my madam duties.
“Darling, let’s discuss this in private—”
The back of his hand connects with my cheek, my neck snapping to the side. The girls make themselves scarce.
“Where is she? I fucking told you, I wanted Remi as one of my girls,” he slurs his words.
I cradle my throbbing cheek with my palm. “And as I’ve told you, the little bitch stole my cat and took off.”
Sienna
A few months ago
“Afternoon, Mrs. D’Amico.”
“Good afternoon. How’s it going, Jermaine?” I ask the custodian sweeping the hallway.
“Can’t complain, ma’am.”
“Is Mr. D’Amico back from lunch?” Knowing Michele’s schedule and avoiding him like the plague makes my job as madam so much easier.
He casts a nervous glance over his shoulder. “Yes, ma’am. He’s in your office. A large crate was delivered; I’m not sure what’s in it.”
“Thanks,” I tell him, continuing on my way.
A crate? Surely Michele isn’t brazen enough to store a shipment of drugs in my office.
Pressing the cracked door open, I enter to find my husband seated on the couch across from my desk.
“Hello, darling.” I tentatively step inside, eyeing the mystery crate in the corner of the room. “What’s this?”
Michele’s pupils are huge, a tell-tale sign that he’s high as a kite. “A gift for you. Open it.”
“How lovely.” With a phony grin of my own, I cross the room, examining the large box with holes before lifting the lid. A startled squeal escapes my lips as a huge cat hops out, meowing like crazy.
Michele’s smile puts the devil’s to shame. “Don’t tell me that my wife’s afraid of a little pussy cat?”
This asshole stole my therapy records back when I was nineteen! There’s no other way he could know about my fear of cats.
“Of course not; I was surprised, that’s all.” Refusing to allow him the victory of seeing me fall apart, I fawn over the demon cat, ignoring the panic bubbling in my chest. “Aww, so cute!”
Michele crosses the room and now has me by the throat. “The next time you kill one of my pets, I’ll have my men take you out to the alley and make you theirs.” He releases me with a shove. “Take care of our precious baby,” he calls over his shoulder as he strolls out.
Falling to the couch, I tuck my head between my knees. Deep breaths through my nose, blowing out through my mouth.
A thud has me lifting my gaze; the cat is now seated on my desk, watching me. But wait, are we sure this thing is a cat? It’s long and lean with tall ears and markings like a freaking bobcat.
“Get down,” I order her with far more bravado than I currently possess.
She responds by swiping my water bottle off the desk.
“Bobcat or not, I promise you don’t want to make an enemy of me,” I warn her.
“Mrs. D’Amico?” Ellis sticks his head in my office.
“Now’s not a good time, Ellis,” I say with a heavy sigh, in no mood to deal with the house trumpeter. Despite his sweetheart of a girlfriend, the guy’s a shameless flirt and has propositioned me on more than one occasion.
“Is that a bobcat?” He eyes mine and Michele’s new “baby.”
“I’m not sure, exactly.” I take a deep breath, holding myself together by the barest of threads.
Ellis shifts positions, revealing his girlfriend. “Mrs. D’Amico, my name is Remi. We spoke last week about the job opening—”
The cat hops down and trots across the room, rubbing her head against Remi’s ankle.
“Congratulations. You’re hired as the new petsitter.” I’ll be damned if I let Michele think he’s won. I’ll make this cat the mascot of the hotel; position the litter box under his desk.
“Oh, but I meant the opening in the house band—”
“Fifty bucks an hour to keep this cat alive and out of my hair.”
Remi blinks. “Deal. What’s your name?” she asks the cat.
“You do the honors,” I tell Remi.
“You look like a Nola,” she decides.
“Nola it is.”
Sienna
The Present
“We can’t skimp on bathroom supplies,” the lounge’s GM argues as we make the rounds.
“Soap, I agree, but a little drip drying never hurt anyone,” I counter. “If someone bitches about no TP and paper towels, say both are on backorder.”
“And what about the situation with our ice vendor?”
An ice cube and pick over olive skin perfection.
If I had an ice pick right now, I’d chisel all memories of Fabien Calvani from my psyche.
I pour myself a glass of water behind the bar and down it.
Lukewarm, being as we have no ice.
“Mrs. D’Amico, the ice vendor?” The GM clears his throat.
“Who needs artisanal ice cubes, anyway?” I scoff.
“Um, we do, because we’re an upscale bar?”
“I’ve already cancelled the vendor contract and secured a freezer that we can dedicate to ice trays.” It’s a relic of a deep freeze someone dumped at the curb, but it’ll do. “Barbacks will now have the responsibility to monitor the ice levels.”
He runs his hands through his hair. “We’re shutting down. Just say it.”
“We’re not shutting down. We’ve just got to be smart these next few months; get things back on track.
” I’m not sure if it’s substance abuse or if Michele always sucked at running a legitimate business, but this ship would’ve sunken faster than the Titanic had I not taken over.
And as much as I hate Michele, I can’t let it sink.
One, I’d go down with him, and two, so many people count on this place.
He nods resolutely. “And the band? They haven’t been paid in two weeks.”
“Let me handle it.” How I’m going to handle it on top of paying Remi, fuck if I know.
Michele’s door is open, and I hurry past it, hoping to avoid my husband. “Sienna,” he calls, and I inwardly curse.
“Yes, darling?” I stick my head in his office.
Michele crooks his finger, and I enter his office, closing the door behind me. The back of a female head pops up from beneath his desk.
It’s not lost on me that there’s a package and a box cutter.
Ha! Michele’s going to have to do better with his mind games; I couldn’t care less if one of the girls fucks him. In fact, better her than me.
The sloppy sound of a blow job fills the room, and I wait patiently for Michele to get to the damn point. “The new girl, Remi. Why am I not seeing her in the rotation?” He closes the hostess binder on his desk.
“Because Remi’s not one of the hostesses; she’s my personal assistant.” And by personal assistant, I mean she keeps the scary cat away from me.
“I want her recruited.”
“She’s not interested—”
“Make her interested.”
“Very well.” I exit the office, trying to figure out a way around Michele’s directive. Not that Remi and I are friends—having wised up after the Jade fiasco, I have no friends—but this world is no place for someone as sweet as Remi Landry.
“What can I do to run your person off?” I ask Nola, who watches me with disdain from the back of my chaise lounge. “The mean boss routine hasn’t worked thus far, and there’s only so long I can dodge Michele.”
The cat answers by hiking her back leg, spraying my furniture.
“You little—”
There’s a knock, and Remi enters.
“This fucking cat has pissed on my custom chaise lounge from Milan!” I shout, the noxious smell of ammonia filling my office. “I’m going to kill her and mount her head over my desk!”
“Come on, Nola. Let’s practice pottying outside with your harness and leash.” Remi’s training this supposed cat to walk on a leash. Getting Nola situated, Remi stands and clears her throat. “I was wondering if you had a chance to talk to your husband—”
“If there’s a chance not to talk to that man, I take it.” I sigh dramatically.
“I meant, about me auditioning—”
“Remi, I’m sure you’re a good cornet player,” I say, knowing damn well that she’s a pianist.
“Piano. I play the piano,” she reminds me.
“Piano.” I wave my hand at the pesky detail. “My point is, this stage is the hottest in town. Every musician wants to play here, and you have to be the best of the best to make the cut.”
“But if I could only audition—”
“Real talk here, Remi. You’re too sweet for this cutthroat world,” I tell her honestly. “You’ll get chewed up and spit out.”
Crossing the room, I stick my head out my door, shouting, “I need a piece of furniture moved to the curb yesterday! And someone call the cleaners to deep clean my office!”
“Come on, Nola,” Remi ushers the cat along.
Jermaine enters, holding his nose.
“Can it be salvaged?” There’s zero budget for new office furniture.
“Maybe. Let’s get it moved outside in the fresh air.”
He calls in more muscle, and the men lug the piss-stained chaise outside. Remembering that we can’t afford a professional deep clean, I get to work with a bucket and soapy water, cleaning the hardwood and, eww, the wall.
After going to the bathroom to wash up and quickly remembering I was the one who said no paper towels, I fling the door open and stomp back to my office in a pissy mood.
“Knock. Knock.” Ellis appears. “Um, Mrs. D’Amico, I was wondering, on behalf of the band, where we stood on the last two weeks’ and this week’s pay?”
My head falls into my damp hands on a sigh.
“We’ve all heard the rumors,” he starts.
Snapping my head up, I give him my best puppy dog eyes. “Ellis, you’re the band leader. The guys listen to you. Give me a few weeks to get things sorted,” I plead. “We can’t lose our house band.”
He shakes his head. “I’m sorry, but unless we get paid today, we’re walking.”
“This is Hotel D’Amico. Every musician in this city wants to be on this stage,” I bluff.
He lifts a shoulder. “Good luck finding musicians who work for free.”
“I didn’t say free. You guys like to party, right? How about a couple of eight balls to tide everyone over?” Michele won’t notice a few ounces missing from his personal stash.
“The guys will be down for that, but I’m actually down for something else.” He looks me up and down, his gaze lingering on my chest. “Madam.”
“Excuse me? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say primly.
He licks his lips, his eyes meeting mine. “Sure you do.”
I’m about to kick this little prick out of my office, but a lightbulb goes off.
Knowing that Remi will be back any minute, I hop on my desk and spread my legs. “A couple of eight balls and a fuck, and we’re square on backpay, and the band takes the stage tonight. Deal?”
His beady little eyes look me up and down. “Deal.”
Poor Remi will believe me to be the villain of her story, and that’s okay. What others believe about me is none of my business.
Ellis kisses me sloppily, and I inwardly cringe.
At least it’s not feet.
Sienna
The Present
Michele bands his hand around my throat, slamming me into the wall.
The only thing keeping me from spiraling is the knowledge that he won’t kill me—simply because he hates to lose.
What Michele fails to realize is that his opponent, Fabien, tapped out years ago, but my husband’s ignorance is my security.
“Everyone will be here soon for the auction,” I whisper, clawing at his hands. “I have to get things ready.”
“Sorry, boss, to interrupt.” A member of Michele’s crew appears. “We got a shipment that needs your approval.” The young kid eyes me with alarm, but doesn’t intervene.
Michele growls, releasing me with a little shove before he exits with the soldier.
My ass slides down the wall until it hits the concrete, and I wrap my arms around myself, trying not to hyperventilate.
“Mrs. D’Amico, are you alright?” Jermaine appears with a step ladder, his eyes going wide. He places it down and hustles over, squatting beside me.
“No good deed goes unpunished,” I say with a sad smile as I accept his outstretched hand.
“You deserve better, ma’am,” he tells me quietly as I’m hoisted to my feet.
Do I? At this point, I don’t know what I deserve.