Noemi let out a tight laugh, and some of the tension dissipated.
The night after Noemi had been admitted to the hospital with the concussion, Rosso had gone to the blindfold club, demanding to see me. Payton had relayed the story, how shocked he’d been when he learned I’d sold the club to try to be with his daughter.
Since she was smart, Payton convinced Rosso to have a drink while Julius called Claudia to get her ass to the club, and she came running. How had I not picked up on it? She’d been exclusive to Mr. Red for more than a year.
He’d gone into Claudia’s room, only she wasn’t naked and bound to the table like usual. She’d been clothed and sitting in the chair, wearing the blindfold to protect his identity. With what had happened, everyone was concerned Mr. Red wouldn’t be back, and Claudia confessed she didn’t want to lose him.
Not his money, but the man.
She was in love with him, and neither one of them knew the other’s real name.
Rosso had been fucking Clare, but when he took off her blindfold that night, he fell hard for the woman beneath it—Claudia. His divorce papers were only a few weeks old when he’d been photographed at a romantic dinner with Claudia.
Noemi’s father didn’t visit the club anymore, but he didn’t come after it to try to tear me down, as he had no reason to do either. Julius was still mining Rosso’s connections and finding new clients. Business remained strong, and I was pleased about that, even as my structured deal ran its course and I was no longer affiliated.
I stared at Rosso’s hazel eyes. Perhaps he’d never get over who I was, but nothing lasted forever. Just that one thing, I reminded myself. I’d have to get Silas to work it into the tattoo.
I glanced down at the delicate hand that was encased in mine, resting in my lap, and back up to her. A smile broke on her gorgeous face.
Noemi Rosso. My girlfriend, my submissive, and the fucking love of my life.
chapter
THIRTY-TWO
NOEMI
When the Porsche pulled up in front of my apartment building, I hurried out into the August heat that was thick as a wall even though it was nighttime.
“Whoa,” Joseph said when I slid into the passenger seat, his gaze lingering on my dress. “Where’d you find that?”
“A thrift store over on the south side. Isn’t it totally rad? Gnarly?”
He gave me a half-smile, laced with seduction. “It’s something.”
“Look at you, Don Johnson.” He had on a pale grey sports jacket with the sleeves pushed up, and a salmon colored shirt beneath. Gorgeous no matter what decade we were dressed for.
“I’m surprised you know who that is.” He put the car in motion when my seatbelt was on. “Why is your generation so obsessed with the eighties? You weren’t even alive.”
I grinned. This whole thing had been my idea to energize sales at Dune. 1980s prices on a few featured cocktails while eighties music filled the club, once a month, and dress-up was encouraged. Joseph had found a DJ that was phenomenal at remixing all the Culture Club and Flock of Seagulls with driving bass to keep it fresh and the dance floor packed. Last month had been the trial run, and sales were through the roof.
Tonight we’d decided to see the success for ourselves.
“The eighties seemed like they were awesome,” I said. “God, the big hair. How much cocaine did you do?”
“Ha, ha. I was in elementary school.”
My dress was killer, but also itchy. A tight bodice of midnight-blue satin that was covered with black lace. An off-the-shoulder neckline which exploded into the prerequisite puffy sleeves, and a bulbous, tiered skirt that stopped at my knees. I’d teased my blonde hair up and wore it over one shoulder, then layered on the heavy eye makeup.
When we arrived at the club, there was a line. It was only a few people, but it was the first time Dune had had a line this summer. I took Joseph’s arm and we breezed past the bouncer straight into the club.
We’d only been there a few minutes before the text message came from Payton, telling me Dominic and she had arrived with their friends.
“This is Logan and Evie Stone,” Payton said, introducing the attractive couple. The woman wore a ghastly floral print dress that was perfectly eighties, and pronounced her pregnant belly. She gave me a warm smile as she shook my hand.
“I’m Noemi Rosso. Do you know Joseph?” As soon as I asked it, I wanted it back. According to Payton, these were her and Dominic’s closest friends. It seemed likely Joseph would know them.
Evie’s smile was weird. “Uh, yeah. We’ve met.”