“Good evening, Mr. Valinov.” Yvonne’s voice is smooth and rich and hints at the small smile I know is on her lips. “I hope I’m not disturbing you.”
“I have a minute.” I tuck the phone into the crook of my shoulder and go back to unfastening my sticky pants.
“I’m sorry to hear that. I was hopeful you and Duchess might be exceptionally busy.”
Of course she was.
Yvonne is in the business of providing the men of New York’s underworld with a rare commodity.
Sweetness.
Anyone lucky enough to claim a winning bid at one of her auctions usually holds onto their prize with both hands, becoming a fool for the tiny taste of a world most of us have never known.
And no one is easier to beat than a fool. It’s a fact I could have used to my advantage.
Maybe I should have let Frederick win Duchess.
The possibility sends a burn down my spine, one that continues to simmer under my skin as Yvonne explains the reason for her call.
“There’s been an issue with her account. I was unable to make the deposit.”
“She hasn’t been paid?” I don’t bother hiding my anger. It will be easy for Yvonne to assume I’m upset about the possibility that this delay could make it seem as if I’m the one who didn’t provide payment.
Which would make any number of men think I’m not what I appear to be and give them the balls to try to take me on.
“Not as of yet. That’s why I’m reaching out to you. I’ve tried calling the number she provided, but it seems to be out of service.”
“Out of service?” The reasons for the issue are few. “Have you used that number before?”
“Of course. Every woman I deal with must provide a viable point of contact.”
I don’t like that Duchess changed her number. It grates on me in a way I choose to ignore. “I’ll find her.”
My reputation is on the line. If she’s out there telling people I didn’t pay my fee then…
“I wouldn’t ask you to do that, Mr. Valinov. I’m sure my people can—”
“It’s no problem.” I yank open the door to my office, the excitement of a chase sending me straight to my room. “I’ll be in touch.” I disconnect the call as Yvonne continues explaining that she can handle the situation.
I’m sure she can handle finding Duchess, but I’m not convinced she will make sure the woman hasn’t opened her mouth and slandered me all over the city.
I strip naked and step into the shower, washing off before dressing in a fresh suit. By the time I reach the front hall Victor is waiting, still looking slightly disgusted with me, but ready to do his job anyway. “What’s going on?”
I finish adjusting the collar of my jacket as I walk past him and go straight into the elevator. “Take me to where you dropped Duchess off.”
* * *
I STEPINTO the darkness of one of the nicer clubs clustered just north of Times Square. Platinum appears to be pretty standard as far as strip clubs go, with thrumming bass, dim lights, and the heavy scent of twenty different kinds of Victoria’s Secret body spray hanging in the air.
It’s not the kind of place I would have ever imagined Duchess being employed, but the homeless man I bribed just outside the building where Victor dropped her off seemed certain this was where she works.
Maybe I was wrong about her. Maybe she’s a better actress than I thought.
Maybe her virginity is just as fictional as that of the rest of the women Yvonne parades across her stage.
The possibility stirs my dick, making it pay closer attention as I scan the women scattered through the space.
Not a single one of them looks anything like the one I’m seeking. They’re all seductive smiles and lowered lashes. Long nails and big tits.