When Croix asked if I wanted him to hire me a bodyguard, I didn't think much of it. Now, I'm regretting turning him down.
Apparently, the police have stopped patrolling The Billionaires Club. Otherwise, they never would have let Derrick get through. Or would they have? It's not like he sneaked onto the property. No, he drove right up into the parking lot like he owned the place. Then he waited by my car until I got off from work and came out of the building.
The second my eyes land on him leaning against his silver BMW, I stop dead in my tracks. Instinct tells me to turn around and head back inside to get Croix so that he can chase Derrick away. That would make me seem like a coward, though.
I inhale deeply, gather what strength I can, and continue through the parking lot to meet Derrick head-on. He pushes himself off of his car, smiling at me. The flurry of emotions swirling inside of me is both confusing and annoying.
“What do you want?” I ask, not daring to show him an ounce of kindness.
His lips dip into a frown. “I just came by to check on you. I wanted to make sure you were okay after what happened.”
“Sure you did.” I roll my eyes.
I would have walked right past him if he hadn't blocked my path with his imposing frame. Now I feel stuck, staring at the front of his gray pinstripe suit. The fit of it makes him seem bigger than he actually is. The light shade of it doesn't compliment his figure.
“There's no need to get hostile.” He reaches up to rub my bare arms, and I cringe inwardly. My disgust is followed by an unexpected bite of need—a reminder that Croix and I haven't been intimate since we returned from California. It hurts, but I'm oddly glad that Croix is the source of my pain for once instead of Derrick.
“I'm not being hostile. I've had a long day. I want to go home.” I turn my gaze to the floor.
“They fixed this place up fast.” Derrick glances at the windows. All of what was damaged has already been repaired. Now we're just waiting on the furniture to arrive. “I drove by shortly after I heard the news.”
“That probably wasn't very smart,” I mutter.
“Why not?”
I lock eyes with him finally. “I guess you never heard that you're a suspect.”
He laughs, not seeming the least bit offended until he sees the accusation in my expression. That quietens him down real quick. “Wait. Do you really think I would?” He points to the building. “Oh, Raven, I thought you knew me better than that.”
“I never knew you at all. You were never around,” I snap, unsure of where this anger is coming from.
He quirks an eyebrow. “Of course, you knew me. We worked together. We saw each other every day.”
I draw my hand up to my forehead. “Never mind. Forget it. Thanks for checking on me. I'm fine.” I try to walk around him, but he grabs my wrist. I'm so tired that I don't even pull away. “What?”
“This place is dangerous. You shouldn't be working here anymore,” he keeps his voice low as if he's afraid that Croix will hear him.
“I appreciate your concern, but I'm fine. We have security patrolling,” I lie. Croix hasn't set it up yet.
“I haven't seen them.”
I pivot to face him. “What do you really want, Derrick?”
He steps up to me, his shadow making me feel small. “You. There's still a place for you at Club Lux.”
The temptation is there. The way Derrick is looking down at me reminds me of the handful of nights we spent in bed together—how good they were. It could be like that again.
It could be like that again. Those words echo in my mind, and I follow them up with a montage of the bad—of the pain I felt when we were dating. Being ignored, insulted, and treated like I wasn't worth anything.
“If you had put half as much effort in chasing after me back then as you are right now, we might have worked out.” I trail my fingers down the lapel of his suit jacket. “It's a little too late, though. I don't care if The Billionaires Club is dangerous. It's safer than being with you.”
***
“Your life is about as complicated as the soap operas on TV,” Cindy tells me before dipping her finger into the low-carb chocolate cake batter she just whipped up.
“I know.” I fold forward and groan, resting my head on the dining room table.
I just spent the last thirty minutes pouring my heart out about everything that's happened between Croix and Derrick and me, and I'm absolutely exhausted from it. I'm tired of thinking about boys and questioning why they do the things that they do. At this point, I'd be better off becoming a lesbian. I love dick too much for that, though.
“So what are you going to do?” She pulls a tub of butter from the refrigerator to grease the cake pan.
“I was hoping you'd have some motherly advice.”
“Motherly advice, huh?” She lets out a short laugh. “Even if I told you what I thought, you wouldn't listen.”
“You're probably right,” I admit. “I want to hear it anyway.”
“Well.” She stops what she's doing to rest her weight on the kitchen counter and look at me. “I think you should quit your job and look for something else. That way, you can be done with both of them.”
“I won't be done with Derrick until I change my phone number.” I glance down at my cell phone bitterly. He's sent me three text messages since I last saw him. The first one said that he wanted me back, which made my heart ache with longing. The other two were more conversational.
“You could always just block his number. That's what people do these days when they don't want to hear from someone anymore.” She raises an eyebrow at me.
“You're right,” I reply softly. I could block his number. It would be easy enough. I'm not sure why I haven't yet.
“Do you want me to do it for you?”
“No. I'll do it eventually.” I pull my phone to myself protectively.
“I can tell you still care about him.” She frowns.
“I do still care about him, but I don't want to be with him. I know better than that.” My mood sinks as I wonder what in the hell is wrong with me.
“And Croix? How do you feel about him right now?” Cindy takes the lid off of the tub of butter.
“I don't know,” I sigh. “I still don't know what's going on with us. He hasn't broken up with me. He hasn't been acting lovey either. I think he's mostly consumed with getting The Billionaires Club back in running order.”
***
Too many chiefs and not enough Indians, I think as my eyes drift around the table. When they pause on Raj, I silently chastise myself for making that internal comment. Still, I don't really understand why he's here in a meeting with Bruno and Croix and me. He's not on the staff. He's not even a volunteer.
“I'm impressed with how quickly you've managed to put the place back together,” Bruno compliments us, though he looks directly at Croix when he says it.
“It wasn't that difficult,” Croix responds.
“Still, there's a lot to do. Have you had any more issues with picketers since the lot who vandalized this place were arrested?”
That happened a few days ago. The investigators were able to identify some of the vandals by their fingerprints and a small snippet of video they somehow managed to recover from our surveillance cameras. The vandals didn't cover their tracks as well as we had thought. There was enough evidence to arrest two men and one woman. None of them had any connection to Derrick.
Learning that made me feel like shit for accusing him. I had half a mind to text him and apologize, but pride kept me from it. Pride and not wanting to fan the dying flames of him wanting me to work for him. The text messages have finally stopped, and I'd rather keep it that way.
“A few have tried to come with their signs. Picketers that is, not vandals. The security guard I hired tried to chase them off, but they're pretty relentless. They know their rights and don't plan on going anywhere.” Croix rolls his eyes.
At least, they're staying further away from the building. To be honest, I don't feel any safer with Max on patrol. He wanders around the property, and half of the time we don't even know where he is. Croix assures me he's doing his job, but I'm not so certain. He's young, cocky, and he seems to have a bit of an attitude.
“Their right to be annoying,” Raj chimes in.
“They're definitely a thorn in our side,” Bruno agrees. “We just have to wait them out.”
The fact that there weren't any picketers outside of the California location is supposed to prove him right. The California location is built somewhere secluded, though. The Florida location is not. It's easier for picketers to rally at our door.
“I think positive publicity would do this place some good.” Bruno folds his arms on top of the table. “I've booked a spot on a local morning show for you guys to go talk about The Billionaires Club. I want you to paint it in the best light possible. Talk about the success of The California location. List off the charities that benefit from the club being open. Discuss the amount of money that gets donated to each charity. Tell people why women want to come to The Billionaires Club. All of the good reasons.
“Whatever you do, don't mention the sex. If the show host brings it up, either divert to a different subject or try to sugarcoat things. Use creative wording. Maybe something like the billionaires are there to take care of the clients' every need. Keep it rated G.”
My nerves spike at the thought of having to be on television. It was bad enough when Austin Villarreal tried to interview me. This time, there will be no running away.
“I want all of you on the show.” Bruno makes a circular motion with his hand.
“Me too?” Raj points to himself.
“All of you,” Bruno repeats.
“Raj isn't even volunteering here anymore,” I inform him.
“He's not going to be a volunteer for the clients, but he's volunteering in other ways,” Croix tells me.
I wish that one of them would have shared this news with me. Now, I just look like I'm out of the loop.
“Raj will be there to represent ethnic diversity. Croix, you will be there to speak about The Billionaires Club as a whole. You have experience with being a volunteer, so you can paint a better picture of what coming to The Billionaires Club is like. And Raven, I need you to represent the clientele. Tell them why, as a woman, they would want to come to The Billionaires Club.”
It sounds like he has it all thought out. Now that I know my role, I can start working on scripting and memorizing my responses.
“I'm sorry, but I can't be on television representing The Billionaires Club.” Raj shakes his head.
“That's fine.” Bruno brushes it off, not even bothering to ask why. Instead, he turns his attention to Croix and I. “Needless to say, this interview is very important. How the public perceives your responses could elevate The Billionaires Club, or it could drive it into the ground.”