He gave me the same look my friends did when I told them I was fine following my brutal breakup with Morgan. Julius’s dark eyes went heavy with skepticism. I gulped down another drink of water, then redoubled my efforts on sounding as Midwestern American as possible. “So, how does this work? Do I get to pick the girl from, like, a lineup?”
For a moment I wasn’t sure he was going to drop it, but he seemed to blink the distrust away. “No. When we’re done here, you’ll be taken to a room. There’ll be a girl on the table and a menu on the wall of what she’s into. If you like her? Great. The sales assistant will help you with your purchase. If you don’t like that one, keep in mind we have five more rooms.”
“What happens if I go through all them and don’t see anything I like?”
It was as if I’d just spit on the floor of his establishment, Julius looked that offended. “Then I’d say you’re probably too picky.” He softened and laughed. “The girls here are fucking gorgeous, and they got wide tastes.” He grabbed the sides of his suit jacket and tugged so it would sit straight on his shoulders. “No one’s ever gone all six rooms and not found someone they like. Most don’t need to see another room.”
This was my plan, though. I’d collect all the information I could, then claim I wasn’t interested and leave without making a deal.
“You didn’t answer my question.” Julius kept his voice light and conversational, but the undercurrent was there.
“Which one?”
“Why you’re here.”
I forced myself not to break his gaze. I didn’t need to raise his suspicion any further. My pride would take a hit, but I could give him an extremely edited version of the truth. “My girlfriend cheated on me.”
He could probably look intimidating when he wanted, but right now he peered back at me with sincere understanding. It was comforting, like he got it. And the stupid story spilled out of me. “She sent nudes to a bunch of other guys, including ones I worked with. She didn’t cheat on me, like, physically, but—it still fucking sucked.” I wondered if it would have hurt less if her betrayal hadn’t been emotional. “When we were together, she always needed to know she was the prettiest girl in the room.”
Like the wicked queen in Snow White, Morgan had to be the fairest of them all. I’d spent the first year not realizing her jealousy of other women was real. I’d thought she was joking, not knowing she was high-maintenance to the extreme. I’d thought I’d been able to keep up with her constant demand for validation, but apparently, I hadn’t.
Her cheating started small. A pic to the sound guy, she’d said, just to make sure she was still fuckable. Then a cameraman, because she’d liked the way he’d shot her segment. But her appetite for praise grew until she was sending them to every guy on the crew.
Everyone, except me.
Morgan’s insatiable need for attention had humiliated me, and I wasn’t going to just take it. If I could break the story on this blindfold club, the spotlight at Channel Five would veer my direction.
Julius put his hand on my shoulder the same way a teammate would. A brotherly gesture, accompanied by a wide, knowing smile. “You wanna fuck a girl hotter than your ex? Yeah. You’re definitely in the right place.”
-2-
Grant
Julius led me into a narrow hallway where we were greeted by another hulking man in all black, wearing a fitted t-shirt and earpiece. He blended in, as the walls and ceiling were dark, and the lighting was low.
“Room two,” Julius said to the security guy then turned his head to glance at me over his shoulder. “Enjoy.”
He moved down the long hallway and turned right, disappearing up a staircase.
“Sir,” the man said, gesturing to the door at his side.
There were doors on both sides of the hall, but the ones I faced were decorated with a large brass number. My heart hummed along at the same quick pace it usually did right before a match. Anticipation and adrenaline coursed through me, bringing everything into clear focus.
I strode toward him, grabbed the doorknob, and pushed it open, ready for anything.
One step was as far as I made it before my brain turned to static.
There was a pedestal in the center of the room, and like everything else, it was black. Wait, no. Pedestal was the wrong word. It was more like a table with drawers underneath. The top of it was cushioned in leather. And on top of that was easily the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.
A woman with soft pink lips, her blonde hair splashed out in a puddle around her as she lay on the cushioned tabletop, her arms extended and wrists bound by thick satin ribbon. The only thing she wore was a black blindfold, and I swallowed hard as my gaze roamed over all her naked, flawless skin.
Everywhere I looked, there was beauty. Above the table hung a chandelier draped in strings of crystals. There was a tall, white wingback chair in the back of the room, accentuating the lack of color. Even the forearm tattoo trailing up to the girl’s wrist was a deep black and paisley patterned.
But there was a bright punch of fiery red seated in the chair, and when my gaze landed on her, the redheaded woman stood. She looked to be the same age as I was, or perhaps older. Maybe even thirty. It was impossible to tell with some women. She was slender and elegant, and just as stunning as the rest of the room, but there was a magnetic force drawing my attention back to the table.
Was it because the redhead was clothed, or seemed to be aloof and cold? It didn’t matter. I couldn’t stop myself from focusing on the girl. Her tattoo was intricate art, and the shading around the scrolls gave them dimension. I wanted to run my fingers over the ink and see if it was raised.
“Welcome,” the redhead said. “Please, come in.”