The foyer is beautiful and luxurious. It’s also not the sex club, and more importantly, West and Rob aren’t here.
I scan the room. Plenty of guests linger here, tempted perhaps by the champagne, but the majority of people move toward an elevator.
I feel like I’m heading into the belly of the beast.
If Cat were here, she’d call me a pussy, tell me she spent a lot of time on my transformation, and insist I head down. Cat’s not here, though, so I’ll have to give myself the same lecture.
Stop being a pussy, Mel.
I push away from the wall and make myself follow a trio of masked women to the elevator. They look about my age—in their late twenties or early thirties—and hold cocktail glasses in their hands. I enter after them. They offer me friendly smiles but don’t start a conversation. I’m glad because my stomach has recognized that I’m doing something outside its comfort zone and has responded by roiling in a most alarming way.
Deep breath, Mel. You can do this.
The elevator doors open. The first person I see when I get out of the elevator is someone I know.
Fiona Clarke.
I freeze in place. I wasn't expecting to run into anyone I knew here. Apart from West and Rob, that is. Why would I? I don’t exactly move in billionaire circles.
Shit. What is she doing here?
Fiona is a private detective who investigated some thefts in the Washington DC Fontaine last year. She’s smart, competent, and discreet. And she never forgets a face.
I had no idea she knew about Club M; it’s not the sort of thing that comes up in a work conversation. She’s wearing a sparkly black dress that hugs her curves. On her head, she’s wearing a pair of cat ears, and a mask dangles from her wrist.
A line has formed at the entrance to the club. A young woman addresses the waiting crowd. “Please accept our apologies for the delay,” she says, her voice stressed. “We’re having some technical issues.”
Two men flank Fiona. Only one of them is touching her, his hand splayed possessively at the small of her back. But something about her body language makes it obvious she’s with both of them. That’s another thing I didn’t know about Fiona. Good for her.
“I have to go to the ladies’ room,” Fiona says. She’s close enough to me that I can hear her words. She kisses the man closest to her on the cheek. “I’ll be right back.”
“Don’t get into trouble,” the dark-haired man says.
Fiona winks at him. “What kind of trouble could I possibly get to?” she asks cheekily.
The other man, the blond one, quirks an eyebrow. “Do you really want me to answer that, pet?” He runs his hand down her back and squeezes her ass.
She laughs lightly. “Sheesh. You’re never going to let me forget that, are you? I’ll be good, Sir.” She kisses the blond man on the cheek too, her expression affectionate. “See you soon.”
I’m so busy watching the three of them I don’t notice Fiona walking directly toward me. “Excuse me,” she says. Oh crap, she’s talking to me. She’s looking directly at me. I hold my breath, waiting for a glimmer of recognition to cross her face.
It doesn’t happen. Her expression stays polite.
Thank you, Caterina.
Fiona clears her throat. Oh, right. I’m blocking the way. I step away with a mumbled apology, and Fiona steps past me and into the elevator.
Crisis averted. My heart is racing. I surreptitiously wipe my palms on my skirt. I’m as jumpy as a cat, and I haven’t even entered the sex club.
Seriously, Mel. Calm down before you give yourself a stroke.
The club sorts out the technical issues, and the line starts moving. I inch up to the entrance and offer the woman my invitation. She scans it, and the reader flashes green. She hands me a tablet with a smile. “For the silent auction,” she explains. “Rather than bid on a sheet of paper, you enter your bid electronically. If you get outbid, they’ll notify you.”
Umm, yeah. I’m in a room filled with billionaires. I’m not about to bid on anything.
I don’t tell the club employee that. I don’t tell her I’m just here to hit on my bosses either. I take the tablet from her and step into Club M.
A jazz band is playing, music filling the room. While there were maybe a hundred people upstairs, down here, there are two, maybe even three times as many people, and everyone is masked.