One More Rule (Blindfold Club 2.50)

We hurried across the street and through the front door that Joseph left unlocked for us. It was dark except for the security lights as we strolled through the bar and down the hallway of doors. The silence and poor lighting further detracted from the sex appeal.

To the left were the holding lounges, and to the right were the client rooms. I’d met Dominic in Room One. A smile warmed on my lips as we passed the door decorated with the brass six, the room where Dominic asked me to be his wife.

“Joseph?” I called, leading Dominic upstairs.

“In here.”

Not in his office, but across the hall in the large dressing room. He stood by the bar lining the far wall, his back turned to us. His suit jacket was cast aside on a chair, and as he poured himself a glass of whiskey, I could see his sleeves had been rolled back. This was as close to casual as Joseph got.

“Hey.”

My voice forced him to turn. He probably appeared composed and maintained to Dominic, but like the last time I’d seen Joseph, there were faint edges around his eyes. He looked . . . weary. Not that I’d say that to him. Joseph was all about power, and he’d view it as weakness.

He smiled. “You got him to agree to come.”

“Of course,” I said. “My boy-toy does whatever I tell him to.”

The snap on my hip was sharp and biting. Dull pain lingered on my tattoo, so I glared up at the blue eyes watching me. “Okay, ow.”

Dominic looked smug. “Watch it.”

“You watch it,” I echoed back like a four-year-old.

Joseph carried his drink in one hand and strode toward us, pretending he hadn’t just witnessed the immature exchange. “Dominic,” he said. “I’m Joseph Monsato.”

“I remember.” My fiancé’s words were tight. “Everything about that night was pretty hard to forget. You know, except for those ten minutes after the bouncer’s right hook.”

They’d met face to face in the front lounge when Dominic first arrived at the club almost a year ago. It was protocol with walk-ins, plus Joseph liked to evaluate potential clients to match them with the right girl. That meeting had been fine, according to Dominic, but the way he’d left t

he club was still a sore subject. He’d spent the whole night trying to find me, his head throbbing with a black eye, all because of Joseph.

“I’m sorry about what happened,” Joseph said, his expression genuine. “I didn’t handle it well when Payton said she wanted to leave. Your fiancé was a big part of this place, and also my friend, and . . . I wasn’t sure how the fuck I was going to get on without her.”

Joseph didn’t mean it sexually, of that I was sure. Yet his admission made my breath stall in my lungs. When I’d left the club, I hadn’t just quit, I’d effectively abandoned Joseph. I was at a loss for words, which had to be a fucking first.

“It was good, though,” Joseph continued. “For me, and most definitely for her.”

Dominic shifted his stance. He didn’t seem to be faring much better than I was with the seesaw emotions between resentment and surprise. “Uh, yeah.”

Joseph’s attention sought mine. “I bet you want to know why I asked you here.”

“The question had crossed my mind.”

“I need a favor, and unfortunately, I need it from both of you.”

Well, he was just full of surprises today. “What is it?”

The amber liquid sloshed in Joseph’s drink as he swirled his glass. “I hired a new girl, and I can’t get a read on her.” He paused to take a sip. “Usually I can tell whether or not they’d be good, but this one . . .”

“How’d she do with her . . .” I wasn’t about to remind Dominic how the girls at the club got their spots. Several months ago I’d had too much vodka, or ‘truth serum’ as he called it, and spilled all the gritty details about the club. “With her audition?”

“Christ,” Dominic growled.

But Joseph’s face was stoic. “She didn’t audition. Regan’s only interested in being a sales assistant. She’s made it clear she won’t get on the table.”

As far as I knew, that was a first. All girls started on the table. “Why not?”

“She says she has a boyfriend, but I don’t think that’s her reason.”