Three Little Mistakes (Blindfold Club 3)

I’d thought Sensible Noemi was dead. I hadn’t heard from her in weeks until that afternoon. She roared back to life when Joseph’s secret was revealed, taking control back. If Joseph’s brothel had been discovered, my bad boy would have gone to prison, and it would have ruined me. No one wanted a CEO who was involved in that kind of seediness. Public opinion would have deemed me too stupid to know what he was doing, or worse, in on it with him.

He sold sex.

I hated him and I loved him. He’d said I was too smart to fall in love, but no. Obviously I was incredibly stupid and a fucking fool. He’d made me a disappointment in my father’s eyes, too.

Joseph was persistent, I had to give him that. When the front desk wouldn’t allow him up, he said he’d wait, and they had him removed. He kept coming back, and my father got involved, telling security the next time Joseph appeared, to call the cops.

I missed him and his filthy mouth terribly. Part of me wished I could go back in time and take the El that day instead of the cab that had set this all in motion. I’d be blind to what Joseph was doing, but I’d be with him. Ignorance was bliss, right?

The picture from Hawaii had been shoved in the back of my closet, buried under sweaters I didn’t need because it was finally warming up outside. I couldn’t bring myself to throw the frame out or give it away.

My concussion symptoms faded and I was over them. The mood swings were bad, but the foggy memories were cruel. Sometimes I had to be reminded why Joseph wasn’t around. I was given extra time on my final exams, but I hadn’t felt I’d done well when I sat for them. Underprepared, and exhausted, and distracted. For the first time in my academic career I hoped for a B.

My last final was over by mid-morning, and I pulled out my iPad, wanting something mindless. I needed to release the tension I’d been holding inside. I’d do anything to make myself feel better, even if it was for five, sad minutes.

I wasn’t ready for it, but I should have known. I wouldn’t take his calls or see him, and blocked his email, so Joseph had been reaching out to me on Tumblr. Our feed was full of GIFs and images. Apologies. Requests to communicate. A simple graphic that said “I need you.” Five a day since I’d sent him from my hospital room.

I bawled my eyes out like a big baby. It wasn’t the release I wanted, lying fully clothed in my bed in the middle of the day, but it worked and I cried myself to sleep.

My phone rang, waking me, and it was the front desk. “I have a Payton McCreary downstairs,” the clerk said. “Would you like me to let her up?”

I didn’t know, and my pause was so long, the clerk got worried.

“Are you still there?”

I scrubbed my face, erasing the tracks of dried tears away. “Send her up, please.”

Payton stood cautiously in my doorway and it was an interesting sight, seeing her confidence flagging. “Hi. Thanks for meeting me.”

“Come in.” I motioned inside. I willed the flashes away of my night with her. I didn’t need any more reminders of the man I’d left, but I couldn’t stop myself. “You want something to drink?”

Her gaze surveyed the apartment as if looking for something and she seemed satisfied. “No, thanks. First things first, how are you? Like, physically?”

“I’m better.” I strolled to the couch and sat, and she followed my lead, sinking down onto the soft cushion. Tension appeared to have her wound tight as a spring, and it made me suspicious. “Did he send you?”

“Joseph?” She shook her head. “No. Fuck, he’d shit a brick if he knew I was here.”

I didn’t want to be rude, but it sprang from my mouth pointed. “Why are you here?”

“I need a favor, but also to make sure you have all of the information.”

My eyes burned. “There’s more?” How much worse could it get?

“Yeah.” Irritation trickled in her voice, and she made a face as she tried to squash it. “He started the blindfold club a few years ago, when he brokered a deal between me and a guy that needed to stay anonymous.” She glanced at her nails. “Pretty sure that guy’s office is in D.C. now.”

I didn’t care to hear about Payton banging some politician, but stayed quiet.

“The business grew from that, and Joseph . . . he enjoyed the power. The clientele list is like a who’s-fucking-who of Chicago’s wealthiest people. Some of them are in the legal system and the rest think they’re above it. No one cares about the legality.”

“I don’t need to know this.”

“Yes, you do. You need to understand how much he loved what he did. The club put him in position to negotiate with extremely powerful people. Nobody was getting hurt. The women who work the club are there by choice, because they love sex and money, and Joseph keeps them safe. They can walk away at any time, just like I did.”

Was I supposed to be impressed that he ran his high-class whorehouse with professionalism? “What is your point?”

“He fucking loved his club. The power and the money, and he gave it all up, for you.”

I scowled. “When I found out.”