Exotic location, self-discovery, full display. Discover your wilder side. Apply at Club Sin.
No other wording. Just the logo with a single key looped through the D of the name.
Self-discovery could literally mean anything, but it has to be something better than sitting in my penthouse suite waiting for something to happen to me. I’ve taken all the online schooling I can stomach. If I want a life beyond a computer screen, I’ll have to steal it.
I might as well start here. I refuse to meet my next birthday a freaking inexperienced virgin and this might be the answer.
“No, it is the answer. Confidence, Belle. Don’t start doubting yourself now.”
As long as it is not a cleaning position. Ugh. That would suck. I’m done playing the part of some perfect never-do-wrong princess in my brother’s eyes.
I finger the end of my wig and the hair that lies hidden beneath to make sure nothing is out of place. A couple of tugs on the low-cut frame of my dress tuck the girls back into their prison of silk and thread.
I look around for someone to point me in the right direction. Not finding anyone I continue down a long hallway in the direction the woman and her men took.
Dark marble turns to black carpet, masking my steps the deeper I venture. Passing the Mirror Room or room two depending on how you read it, I see another hallway that branches off. I head that way. There has to be someone who can tell me about this ad.
At the end of the hallway, I see the bold title “management” in gold lettering over polished black oak—I sense a running theme of black, gold and antique and it speaks of money. Lots of it.
I raise a hand and knock on the door. There’s no one else here so I guess not many people are looking to discover themselves. Yay me, right? We shall see…
A raspy, deep voice filters through the thick black wood. I reach for the gold handle and just as I turn it the door wooshes open and the darkest set of brown eyes laser through me.
“Yes?” he rumbles briskly and I swear with a hand to the heavens my heart drops to the floor. And so does my brain.
I’ve never stuttered a day in my life but my tongue seems to have frozen in my mouth at the sight of the man–no, beast– glaring down at me. Every muscle twitch sends off a ripple effect through the other muscles. He’s like a buffet of muscle wrapped in navy blue cotton at the top and all sexy wranglers on the bottom. And are those cowboy boots?
“I…uh. Hi, um…”
Swoon, baby swoon.
All I know is Armoni and Dolce & Gabbana. The men I’m around would die before letting themselves look like a cowboy.
Butfuuuckhe pulls it off in spades.
“Ma’am?” he drawls.
I hold up the newspaper when my tongue reconnects with my brainwaves. “I’m here for this.”
Those dark, piercing eyes touch every part of my body but instead of coming back to rest on my boobs, this man’s gaze finds mine. We stand there for a few seconds just looking at each other.
“Okay, now you have me worried. Do I have broccoli in my teeth or something?”
Thick black brows pull together to make a tiny crease between the cowboy’s eyes. “What?” he grunts, looking absolutely adorable when confused. And that’s when I notice the slight twang. Now the cowboy boots in a big city make sense.
I shrug a little, which makes my breasts sway in this ridiculously tiny dress. The movement catches his attention.
I thought his eyes were dark before. Now they are impossibly black and lined in shades of amber. The sheen of hunger that crosses his expression catches me off guard and I inhale. Every inch of my lungs fills with the clean scent of his soap and undercurrents of what has to be the smoothest aftershave.
Suave, masculine and intoxicating.
I squelch the urge to ask for his name and number for a quick hook-up. I have to stick to my plan. Not jump the first good-looking man with a…my eyes drift down his well-honed body noting all the right dips and angels. And the sizable package tucked behind all that denim.
Stick to your plan, Belle.
He clears his throat and I snap out of my dirty thoughts.
“I’m uh, sorry. I uh, I mean, the way you’re looking at me makes me think I am either your worst idea knocking on your door or I have my lunch in my teeth.”