1
LOGAN
“Ihave something for you.”
Nick, my friend, reaches into the pocket of his charcoal Etro suit pants and pulls out a small piece of paper, pushing it across the table in my direction. I pick it up and unfold it. An address, nothing else. A smirk on my lips, I scrunch the paper into a tight ball and toss it back in his direction. Whatever this is, I’m sure I want no part of it.
It’s Wednesday night, and we’re sitting in a bar across the road from my surgery clinic. It’s been a shit of a day and the last thing I want is to be dragged into Nick’s latest escapade. Being the high-profile lawyer he is, Nick’s every move is gossip, so I know it’s in my best interests to stay as far the hell away from this as I can.
“You’re not even the littlest bit curious?” He looks shocked, his jet-black eyes dancing with amusement.
“Not even the slightest,” I tell him honestly. “Especially since I know it’s likely going to land me in some sort of scandal or another. Have you forgotten that you were almost kicked out of the firm last month?” I remind him.
“First of all, how was I supposed to know she was the boss’s daughter? Second, I’m a senior partner. They can’t kick me out. Besides, this is completely different,” he says dismissively. “Trust me.”
“The number of times I’ve heard you utter those words make me certain Idon’twant to trust you,” I chuckle, smirking as my friend is distracted by a group of passing women, giggling and chattering to themselves. I clear my throat and my friend tosses me a sheepish grin as he averts his attention back to me. “Just like your wife probably shouldn’t trust you, huh?” I can’t resist digging.
“Fortunately for me, we’re not talking about my wife,” Nick replies. “We’re talking about my latest extracurricular activity. Or more specifically, the club.”
“The club?” I chuckle at how serious his expression is right now. “Is it in an underground basement? Do you wear black robes and have a secret handshake while you chant to the gods above?”
“Don’t mock me, man. This place has been handcrafted especially for men like us,” he informs me, as if I didn’t just tell him I didn’t care to know any of the details. “I’m talking complete anonymity, Logan. Any andeveryfantasy you have locked away in that dirty little mind of yours fulfilled by the finest girls. Or guys. Hell, you can have both if you’re into that kind of thing.” He lets out a chuckle as he rubs his clean-shaven jaw. “I’m telling you, there’s nothing quite like walking into that private room and finding some pretty little thing blindfolded, on her knees, and ready to bark like a dog while I take her up the ass, or whatever else I decide to make her do.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” I tell him, rubbing my lightly stubbled jaw, ignoring the twitch of my cock. “Though it’s not like you to be discreet,” I can’t help adding. “I thought half the fun was making sure your sexual indiscretions get back to your wife.”
“What can I say?” He splays his hands, a smirk plastered on his lips. “Even I have kinks that the whole world doesn’t need to know about.” He slides the crumpled-up note back over to me and looks me in the eye. “Don’t tell me you’re not tempted. I know how much you value your privacy, especially with the divorce going the way it is. This place exists on its reputation alone.”
I pocket the note, knowing he’s right. The very public and bitter divorce I’m going through hasalmostbeen enough to ruin everything that I had worked so hard to build. All because my bitch of a soon-to-be ex-wife thought fabricating an improper relationship between me and her then seventeen-year-old daughter, Layla, would be a great way to milk me for as much money as possible. Lucky for me, she has retracted her accusations, but not before ruining the innocent relationship Layla and I had.
Well, at least it was innocent on the surface. I might have raised that kid as my own from when she was five years old, but once she hit sixteen, it was hard to look at her because of the woman she was blossoming into. But I never acted on those thoughts. Not that any of that matters now. I haven’t seen Layla since her mother and I first separated, nearly a year ago. She would be eighteen now. In the prime of her life. Probably in university, letting boys who think they know how to please a woman touch her, pleasure her…
My jaw tics as I push her out of my thoughts.
The point is, Nick is right. Another scandal right now would ruin me. But Idoneed an outlet, a way to release some of this tension I insist on keeping close to my chest. And the more I think about it, I have to admit the thought of a woman being at my beck and call, to fulfil whatever sick and twisted fantasy I like, isveryappealing. Wetting my lips, I form the words I know I’m probably going to regret saying at some point.
“Fine. Arrange me a meeting.”
Nick’s eyes light up. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist. You’ll be thanking me for this, you’ll see.”
“We’ll see,” I chuckle.
I’m not putting too much hope in my old friend being right about this. If there is one thing I know, it’s that I’m impossible to please and somehow, I doubt some pretty girl in a blindfold with no self-esteem is going to change that.
2
LAYLA
“Zip me up?”
Zoe, my best friend, flashes me a smile as I clamber off her bed and step forward, securing the sexy, red satin dress to her perfectly proportioned body. Eyes narrowed, she studies herself in the full-length mirror, before giving a satisfied nod, while I watch on in envy. Another outfit that must have cost her more than I make in a damn month. My friend is not rich, I know this, so I have theories about how the hell she can afford all these new outfits.
Stripping.
Sex work.
An eighty-year-old sugar daddy.
Whatever she’s got going on, I wish she would hook me up.