“Did you get any potential client calls,” I asked, “that mentioned me this week?”
Julius scrubbed a hand on his shaved head. “Don’t think so, why?”
I hid the disappointment from my voice. “I gave my card to someone. They seemed interested.”
He glanced at the sheet in front of him. “He’d be outta luck anyway. We’re full. You got Tara tonight, Room Two.”
“Yeah?” My voice pitched upward. “Great.” If you asked anyone which working girl was the best looking, the answer would be Tara. The crown had passed from Payton when she’d left for Japan.
It didn’t take long to find Tara across the hall in the dressing room. She sat in front of one of the mirrors, wrapping strands of her long blonde hair around a thick barreled curing iron, and when her gaze met mine through the glass, she smiled.
She had a not-so-secret crush on me. An infatuation, but only with my hair, she’d joked one night. I refused to feel awkward, especially since I was kind of flattered. She was a gorgeous woman who could have nearly anyone, and her bisexuality gave her plenty of options.
I’d messed around with another girl once in college, the total cliché experience. Too much Jäger had made us both handsy, and we’d fooled around on a couch at a house party after everyone else had passed out. The girl freaked the next morning, called me a lesbian, and I never saw her after that.
I preferred men. Their feelings weren’t overly complicated and what they wanted was clear.
“Hey, Regan.” Her voice was as warm as her expression. “Are you taking your boyfriend to Payton’s wedding? Please tell me he has to work so I’m not the only person going solo.”
“Actually, we broke up a few weeks ago.”
She paused and her face went serious. “Oh, no. Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” I set a hand on my waist and tugged my lips back into a small smile. “We’ve both moved on. I just wish he’d waited until after we’d broken up before sticking his dick in someone else.”
She shook her head and resumed her curling. “Fucker. A guy who’d cheat on that hair? You’re better off.”
I forced a laugh and went to the Room Two cubby, depositing my purse and retrieving the comm pack. But of course I checked my phone a final time, only to see I had no missed calls or texts. As I installed the earpiece in my left ear, I chatted with Tara. Everyone at the club had been invited, but it was surprising she was planning to go to Payton’s wedding alone. Dating had to be difficult for a working girl, but it wasn’t impossible. Nina made it work.
By eleven p.m. I had Tara in Room Two and strapped down to the table, her gorgeous pale skin illuminated under the crystal chandelier. Her blonde strands were held back in place by the black blindfold, and the only color on her was her petal pink lips. Her nude body totally on display usually sent the clients into shock. I couldn’t blame them. She was magnificent.
Who would it be for her tonight? She had a regular, but Mr. Gold wasn’t on the schedule and he wasn’t one to show up unannounced. I sat on the edge of the white wingback chair, waiting to get the confirmation that Room Two was next.
My mind was set. I’d call Joseph later tonight for Silas’s number. There wasn’t a point in fighting it any longer. I didn’t want to get involved while undercover, but . . . I wouldn’t be undercover forever. I was sure Roland would come to the club, and once I landed him, I’d feel satisfied. I’d end the assignment successfully, and that would clear the way if I wanted to try anything serious with Silas.
The comm buzzed in my ear. “Regan, Room One is in negotiations, standby.”
I pushed off of the chair and straightened my skirt as I stood, then tousled my hair a final time.
“Client on his way to Room Two.” Marquis’s thick voice stormed through the earpiece.
We wouldn’t hear the footsteps as the men approached because each room was soundproof. Joseph had designed the place to provide ultimate privacy. He wouldn’t have cracks of paddles or moans of pleasure bleeding from another room and disrupting a client’s evening.
The door swung open and the client stepped inside, and I caught Marquis’s sneer for a split second before he pulled the door shut. The client was hulking, and—
Oh. My. God.
My mouth fell open but I couldn’t produce words. I couldn’t even find air to breathe.
Silas’s hands at his sides were tensed into fists. His gaze found mine and didn’t deviate. The icy blue eyes blinked once, and his expression was . . . harsh. Guarded. What the fuck was he doing here, and why did he look pissed?
I stared at him. He wore his black bike jacket, a simple white V-neck shirt, and stone gray pants, dressed way down from the suits we usually saw at the club. I was supposed to give him a greeting but I couldn’t force it out. “What are you doing here?”
“You owe me a memory card. I’m not leaving until I have your number, Regan.”
Tara’s gasp was subtle, but audible.
What was he talking about? “I don’t understand. I gave you my number. I’ve been waiting for you to call.”