Daniella

 

The elevator doors opened to a large floor space. Two desks sat in the middle of the room and a bay of one-way mirrors appeared to look down over the main floor. My anxiety was already high, but then I saw him. It went up a whole other level.

Dressed all in black in a well-tailored suit, he walked towards me with a masculine confidence which left no doubt he was in charge. He was gorgeous in a dangerous way with chiseled features, midnight black hair and a scruff that made me wonder what it would feel like between my thighs. Jesus, where had that thought come from? I blamed the sex God in front of me along with the visual from the rooms still on my mind.

He stopped a foot in front me and held out his hand. “May I see your ID card?”

Damn. His husky voice was as sexy as he was.

I swallowed hard before fishing it from my clutch and handing it over. My voice escaped me, though I didn’t know whether it was from his presence or from my nerves over the fake ID.

“Scan this.” He held it out for Tank Man.

“Yes, sir.”

After taking the card, Tank Man opened a door off to the side, offering me a glimpse of monitors.

The moment the door closed, I felt very aware we were alone. The floor may have been spacious, but at that moment it felt anything but. “What, uh, what is this about?” I’d finally found my voice.

“It’s about the camera, and the pictures you were taking.”

He didn’t seem like a man who would appreciate a false runaround, so I didn’t bother to deny it. “I’m guessing it’s against club rules?”

“You’d guess right. And if you turn it over, I won’t press charges.”

“You won’t press charges against me for taking pictures in a sex club?” As if he would call the cops here. I might be shaking in my boots, but I wasn’t stupid.

His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Take off your mask, please.”

I swallowed hard but removed it as instructed. Perhaps if I cooperated, he’d be more willing to let me keep the photos.

“I’ve never seen you here before. What’s your name?”

I looked beyond him to where the big man who’d taken my ID was coming out of the door. “I’m sure your human tank can tell you.”

His lips twitched, but he simply turned towards his man with a quirked brow.

“Beth Jones, sir. But the membership code belongs to Eric Patterson.”

Note to self. When lying and going undercover, wear shoes I could actually run in. These four-inch boots were definitely not fitting the bill if I wanted to make a break for it.

“Go back to your station downstairs, Chad. Send up Lance, please.”

“He so didn’t look like a Chad,” I commented once the door was closed. Hey, even if I was screwed, I could still be sarcastic.

 

***

 

Shane

 

I was the type of man accustomed to having people nervous upon meeting me. I might not be big like the “Tank” she’d referred to, but at six foot one, two hundred pounds, I’d been known to intimidate the people I wanted to. But this woman was cracking jokes. She was challenging me about the police, despite her hands shaking when she’d handed over the ID card and taken off her mask. I appreciated that she hadn’t bothered to lie or play dumb.

“Who is Eric Patterson to you?” I hadn’t missed the way she’d involuntarily flinched when his name had been mentioned.

She lifted her chin. “My soon-to-be-former fiancé.”

“I’m guessing he doesn’t know you’re here?”

“You’d guess correctly.”

She had spunk; I’d give her that. “What are the pictures for?”

“Well, nothing says insurance better than a photo of your former fiancé fucking another woman while getting it in the ass at the same time by a dude.”

If this wasn’t so serious, then I might have grinned at her choice of words. “Insurance against what? You’re a woman who came in tonight to get proof your fiancé was cheating. So now go home, throw his clothes out, and do whatever you women do to get your revenge, but leave my club out of it.”

She gritted her teeth. “I have something that could be useful to you.”

I raised a brow, slowly scanning up from her fuck-me, thigh-high boots to the short dress that gave me a glimpse of skin. Her breasts, although not large, were certainly real. And despite the fact she was wearing a lot of makeup, I could see that under it she was beautiful. For a moment, I wanted nothing better than to rip off her wig to see the color of her hair. But the murderous glare she was shooting me gave me pause, not to mention amusement.

“Jesus. Are all men pigs? I meant your damn security system. Obviously, I’m not throwing myself at the owner of a sex club. I’m not that pathetic.”

Normally I didn’t give a shit what people thought about me, having perfected such an art form years ago. But this particular woman’s audacity to think herself too good for me snapped my temper. “I can assure you I’d rather jerk off than fuck someone vanilla like you.”

I immediately saw the hurt flash in her eyes and instantly regretted my words. I’d made this personal when it was only business.

“I’m sure my fiancé had the same thought. And the insurance I speak of is because he took my money, and I want it back.” She dug in her clutch and handed over a small camera. “I’ll be going now unless you have any other insults you’d prefer to hurl before I do.”

Unbelievable. “As if implying you’d never stoop so low as to sleep with me wasn’t starting it.”

Her pretty face showed confusion. “What the hell are you talking about? You know what? It doesn’t matter. I need to go.”

I was about to let her. Getting the camera should have been enough, but I needed to address one more thing. How had she gotten in tonight?

My gaze landed on Lance coming out of the elevator. He’d been on the door when Ms. Beth Jones—which couldn’t be her real name—had come through.

“Wait one moment. Lance, do you remember letting this woman in the door earlier tonight?”

Lance assessed her quickly but shook his head. “Sorry, sir. I don’t remember her. There were a lot of women dressed similarly tonight.”

“Yes, but this one gave you a fake ID. It might have looked authentic, but it was cloned from the card of a male member, which she is definitely not. That you should’ve caught. Clear out your things. You’re fired.”

She gasped. “What? No. You can’t fire him.”

 

***

 

Daniella

 

The arrogant asshole had the nerve to arch a brow at me.

“I’m the owner. I can do whatever I like.”

“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.” Lance spoke up, ready to leave.

Could I help it if my guilt was heavy? I’d come to expose a cheater, not make some poor guy lose his job. “No, wait. I’ll show you how I cloned the cards. That’s what I was offering before. But if I show you, then you have to let, uh, Lance keep his job. You have a serious security breach with the way your cards are designed.”

I watched him contemplate. “Are you a computer hacker?”

“No, just really good with them.”

“And how are you with accounting? Because if I dismiss Eric from the club, I’m going to be without an accountant.”

My eyes widened. “You let Eric handle your books? Are you a client of his firm?”

“No. He did this on the side to compensate for his, uh, membership fee. He is an accountant, is he not?”

“Yeah, one who stole money and doesn’t have the accumulated wealth he boasts about.” I used air quotes to highlight the last few words.

Although his face said nothing, the set of his jaw told me everything. “Lance, go downstairs and bring Mr. Patterson up here. I have some questions for him.”

“Does that mean Lance isn’t fired?”

“It would seem so. For now.”

Tank Two simply nodded. “Yes, sir. I’ll bring Mr. Patterson up.”

“How did you find out he was stealing?”

“I gave him seventy-five thousand dollars to go with his supposed two hundred thousand for a down payment on a house. None of it is in his bank accounts. Matter of fact, the statements show he’s exclusively been withdrawing money for months.”

“Excuse me?”

“When I hacked into his bank accounts, none of my money was there. But I did see it used to be, along with a couple hundred thousand, but it’s all been withdrawn. That’s why I need the pictures from tonight, as insurance he’ll give my money back.”

“I take it he wouldn’t want people finding out he was in a threesome with another man?”

“He’d freak out if I let the pictures go to all of his buddies or coworkers.”

“Are you sure you want to see him? I could just as easily do this without you here. The last thing I want is for you to start crying or get hysterical.”

Seriously? “The answer to your insulting question would be no, I won’t start freaking out.”

Matter of fact, I was more than ready to confront Eric.