Three Little Mistakes (Blindfold Club 3)

“You’re a . . .” the word came out sounding foreign, “pimp?”

“Let me explain to you, alone.”

Rosso shook his head. “No. Get out before I have you removed.”

Her expression turned hard and cold. “Answer the question.”

It wasn’t the title I liked assigned to me. I oversaw negotiations between clients and service providers, often in excess of thousands of dollars, but when you boiled it down, I was just a guy selling pussy. “Yes.”

“How could you not . . .” She swallowed hard. “Do you love me?”

“I—” Yes, but under her father’s terrible scrutiny, I struggled. I did not want to say that to her for what would be her first time, while in this situation. I went with the first thing I could, a terrible, little mistake. “I care about you so much.”

Her face crumbled and her head turned away from mine, a soft whimper of pain at the action, and it was crushing. Watching the effect of my mistake as it destroyed her, destroyed me as well.

“Please go.”

“You’re going to let me explain,” I said, desperate.

Her choked voice just got it out. “No.”

“Noemi,” I growled. “Just wait a minute.”

Her head lolled back, and eyes full of fire stared me down. “No. Stop. You said it was a word you’d always respect. Leave, Joseph.”

“Please, think about this, baby girl.”

“I am.” Her voice was colder than steel. “I’m thinking about the brand.”

Everything was hazy as I rode in the cab back to my apartment. I wanted to believe it wasn’t real, but then there was the fucking bathroom door I’d broken down, all askew and wood splinters on

my tile floor.

My club was gone. Tonight Julius would run things from my office with Payton’s assistance—no, he’d oversee the business from his office. And Noemi was gone. The icy cold judgment in her eyes was too much. I couldn’t push her. She was injured and her emotions were scattered. When she got better, she’d come back to hear my side, I convinced myself.

Nothing lasts forever.

I wanted to punch the wall, but instead I went into the bathroom, my feet crunching on the dust, and began to clean up. I was exhausted, both emotionally and physically, and everything ached. My throat burned and I put my hands on my neck to massage the—

Holy.

Shit.

My stomach bottomed out. No. No.

My hands shook as I set them on the counter and leaned over the sink, bringing my face close to the mirror. As I turned my head to the side, it forced the small, little lump to protrude on my neck.

A swollen lymph node.

chapter

THIRTY

NOEMI

I hadn’t spoken to Joseph in twelve days. He called at least four times daily, but that lessened to three after I’d been out of the hospital a week. The scene in the emergency room haunted me. “I care about you so much.”

Not enough to tell me the truth, though.