Two full nights at Crimson Elite and I’m exhausted, it doesn’t stop. Not even when he sits at the bar and makes me nervous with his stare—his stare and his very few words. Or it could be all the sexual tension we refuse to acknowledge. The girls talk highly of him like he’s some kind of god. I watched him last night, as he comforted a girl who was crying. It was interesting to watch the effect he has on them. He only needed to tell her everything would be all right and she believed him, but not once did he touch her. He saw me watching, and his eyes didn’t leave mine, so I looked away first.

“Girl, tell me about it while we get dressed.” Clothes are thrown at me, pulling me from my thoughts. Tracey’s dressed in a tight lilac ensemble. Looking down at my white lace shift, I pull it down, so it skims the top of my thighs.

“I’m tired. No, I’m exhausted,” I say sitting down on my couch where I was before she came in.

“Alcohol will help with that. Trust me.”

“I beg to differ. I think it’ll knock me out faster.”

“Tequila never fails.” She shakes a bottle of tequila in my face, opening it then taking a swig.

“How long do I have to finish getting dressed?” She looks to her fake clock—no watch on her wrist and smiles.

“Ten minutes. Move it.” Standing, she takes the seat I was just in, as I walk into my room. “Tell me, is it a whorehouse?” She laughs, but I freeze at her words. I wouldn’t class it as such, but it’s a high-profile escort club for sure. “El?” she calls out. I’m thankful she can’t see my face right now.

“It’s a bar. Invitation only.”

“So fancy.” If only she knew how fancy it was she’d lose her shit. Stepping out in precisely ten minutes as requested, I spin for her and she wolf-whistles loudly. Passing me the tequila, we walk out the door to the waiting cab. The club we attend is right near where I used to work, some nights when we would close we’d go over for a drink. The bouncer waves us in, knowing us already, and Tracey grips my hand to pull me to the back where the booths are located. The first person I see is Billy, and he offers me a small smile and wave as I get to him.

“Didn’t think I’d see you again. After what happened.” He laughs and watches me, so I shrug my shoulders.

Leaning into Tracey, I whisper in her ear carefully so he can’t hear me, “If this is a setup, I will kill you.” She turns, kisses my cheek, and disappears, leaving Billy and myself standing in the same spot awkwardly.

“We should find you a girl to dance with,” I say looking around the club.

“You aren’t free?”

Ignoring his words, I point to a girl who’s by herself at the table next to us. “She’s lonely, why don’t you go and talk to her?”

He looks to me then shakes his head staying where he is. “I’m fine exactly where I am.” His eyes leave mine after he finishes saying it, then Tracey walks over with drinks in hand. Here, right now is the last place I want to be.

“Tracey said our regulars offered you a job.” Billy brings up his glass to cheers with mine. “I’ve heard stories about what they do. Supposedly, for your first time to go there, you need to be blindfolded and picked up. They need to assess you’ll be an appropriate customer before they let you know where it’s located.”

“Holy shit,” Tracey says.

“It’s the first I’ve heard of that. But then again, I never really see anyone coming in. They all seem to just appear. Maybe there’s a back door.”

Her hand covers mine. “Is that true? What kind of place is it?”

Billy answers before I can, “It’s a sex place, so I heard.”

Tracey’s eyes go even wider as her hand squeezes mine tighter. “You told me it was a bar.”

Pulling my hand back and shaking it from her death grip, I say, “That’s what I do. I work at the bar like I told you.”

“But is it a sex club?”

“No.” That word tastes sour as it leaves my mouth. The lie. She stares right at me, seeing if I’m lying, then looks back to Billy.

“El would tell me if it were a sex club because she’d know I’d want to go. Your source is a liar.” Billy looks to me, and he knows I’m lying so I try my best to not look at him. “El, don’t look up, just don’t look up.” Tracey’s hand grips mine again, and this time her grip isn’t so forceful. It’s gentler. Just a light squeeze. “Mickey’s here.” As the words leave her mouth, my eyes seem to find exactly where he is. They go to his exact position. My heart beats a flutter then it’s gone. I didn’t love Mickey. I had fun with Mickey, until I found out he also likes to have fun with other women too. But as usual, I got over him and moved on with my life. I haven’t seen him since, and that was over two months ago when I cut all contact with him, and not once did he call to find out why.

“Look away,” Tracey commands.

I do as she says because he looks up. “Tell me if he comes this way—so I can escape,” I say to Tracey.

“Too late.”

“Elicea, how are you?”

“She’s good, Mickey. How’s your girlfriend?” Tracey asks before I can look up to him and answer. But his words get the better of me and I know I have to look up just to see if he looks as good as he did when we were together. Glancing up through my lashes, he appears exactly the same, I hate to say it. But it was his looks that attracted me to him in the first place. I didn’t care how he spoke. Still don’t. That was probably my downfall, maybe why we didn’t work because both of us weren’t really in it for the right reasons. Mickey reminds me of Billy, just older, bigger and manlier. Both have light-colored hair, nice bodies. And a great smile. Mickey still looks the same, so of course, I look him over. I can’t help myself.

“I’m good, Mickey.”

He does the same thing, his eyes flicking over me. Then he looks to Billy who’s still next to me before he looks back to me. “I’d like to talk to you, if you want?”

“It’s a club, Mickey. I’m here to dance.”

He raises his eyebrow. “We can dance.” Mickey reaches out for me to place my hand in his, and I do so even when I can feel Tracey’s death glare from the back of me. He tugs me to him and out onto the floor, then pulls me so our bodies are aligned and touching. He brushes my hair from my neck and whispers in my ear, sending shivers all over my body, “You look stunning, Elicea. Why did we stop again?”

I shrug. “Maybe because you like to wander—to other women—regularly,” I say, trying to pull back so we aren’t so close. He doesn’t let me, keeping me close.

“I’ve changed.”

The laughter that bubbles up has him pulling back to look at me before he pulls me back to him. He looks deeply into my eyes, and he’s holding me tight again.

“You haven’t changed, you just want your dessert, too.” I feel his smile at my neck.

“We could be perfect. We were explosive in the bedroom.”

We were. But that isn’t enough to keep me with someone who wants other people as well. Pulling back with more force, his hands drop to his sides as he stares at me.

“That was the past. How about we keep it that way.” Leaning into him, I tap his shoulder before I kiss his cheek. He turns fast so our lips connect, stunning me for a second before I pull away. Before I can turn to walk away, someone is next to me. His hand touches my arm, sending electrical pulses straight through me.

Looking up and into his eyes—the same ones that make me forget what day it is—everything stops.

I pull my hand free. I don’t like it, I don’t like him having that kind of effect on me. I don’t like that I give him that sort of power over me. At all.

“Creed.” His name leaves my lips in a rush. He takes my breath away making me wonder why he’s here. Shaking my head, I walk straight past him back to Tracey who’s watching with her mouth hanging open. Reaching for her hand, I pull her to the door and straight out into the cold night without stopping until we can hail a cab. Getting in, I look back and see Creed is at the front, cell phone to his ear as he watches we drive off. My heart tries to slow down, but it’s impossible.

“Who the fuck was that?”

Closing my eyes, I count to ten, slowly, trying to think straight. “Oh, no, you don’t. Don’t think how you’re going to tell me. Just tell me who he is?”

When I open my eyes, Tracey is watching me, her face inches from mine.

“He’s my boss, I guess.”

She sits back, bites her nails as she takes in what I’ve said. “He was the one that offered you the job? He’s always so quiet when he comes in.”

I shrug, I have no idea. That night was the first night I’d met him.

“Yep, gave me his card and boom, job. Just like an angel.” The words taste bad as it leaves my mouth, but Tracey laughs.

“Oh, no, honey, that man is all devil. No angel in heaven is that good-looking. He was sent here to torment and fuck. That I know for sure.” She wiggles her eyebrows at me. Despite how he made me feel, I can’t help but laugh.

“He’s delectable, just like your finest sin,” I say, thinking of those whiskey-colored eyes. Tracey fans herself as we stop out front of her apartment building. She gets out, but I wave her off. “I’m going home, I need to sleep.” She kisses me as she goes.

Not too far away, the man who is sin himself is standing at my door. How did he beat me here? Was he following me? My hand shakes as I pay the driver and attempt to open the car door. Creed stands against the wall of my building, his leg bent and foot touching the wall, and he’s watching me. My heart beats hard. Closing my eyes and counting to ten isn’t possible right now, even if they fight to close. Instead, I open them and the minute they’re open I say, “Creed.” His name leaves my lips as my hand clutches my keys in my hand. “Do you need something?”

He looks to me, not blinking or moving as he assesses me with those eyes. I want to know what he’s thinking. Why late at night he’s standing out front of my building. Stepping forward, his hand lifts and I flinch, not because I think he’s going to hit me because I don’t know what he wants. He stops at my flinch, drops his hand and slowly shakes his head.

“You don’t answer your cell.”

I look at it and see no missed calls. Then I remember the private number that tried ringing me earlier. “You called from a private number?”

He nods his head. Next to him, I watch as he pulls up a black bag, handing it to me. “I will call from that regularly. So expect it.”

Looking down at the bag, I gaze back at him to ask him why.

“In there is what you need to wear.” He looks to the time on his watch. “You’re expected in three hours, I suggest you sleep.” He walks off, not even looking back or giving me an answer as to why he was at the club, and why did he come to my home instead of calling me from a normal number.

Looking into the bag, I laugh. Then look again, thinking I’m drunk.

Nope, I’m not.