Three Guilty Pleasures (Blindfold Club 6)

He leaned forward, picked it up, and opened to the first page, only to pull back like the book had burned his fingers. His stunned gaze snapped to meet mine.

“Read it,” I said. “Change what you need to, so you’re covered.”

“They won’t let you publish it.”

An evil smile curled on my lips. “Unless you tell them, I don’t know how they can stop me.”

I didn’t give him a chance to respond. Instead, I turned, tugged open his door, and walked across the hall to the lounge.

A large part of me didn’t want to be working tonight. It felt wrong and weirdly disrespectful, but I didn’t know any other way to make my feelings go away. I just wanted one evening where my thoughts were quiet, my body numb. To escape thinking about the South African who’d broken my heart.

I scanned the board to see my room number for the evening, then checked again to confirm Regan wasn’t working tonight. We hadn’t talked since I’d left her place. She’d texted and called, and I’d left them all unanswered. Eventually, I would deal with it, but she’d kept me in the dark. It’d do her some goo

d to see how it felt.

“Hey,” Nina said in her husky voice. “I haven’t seen you in a while. What have you been up to?”

She hadn’t changed yet into her robe. She wore a black leather skirt that fit her so perfectly, it looked painted on, and a black tuxedo jacket. It was buttoned, but she wasn’t wearing a bra, and it was miles of skin and cleavage.

“Nina,” I gasped, “you look fucking hot tonight.”

She gave me a genuine, flattered smile. “Aw, thanks, girl.”

She scanned my outfit, maybe wanting to return the compliment, but it would be wasted. I’d put on heels, black cigarette pants, and a purple backless top. The bare minimum of effort.

“You should probably get changed,” she said, her gaze drifting to the white silk robe hanging in cubby number five.

It finally clicked why she was dressed, when all the other girls were in their robes already. I grabbed the hem of my shirt and tugged it up over my head. “Are you my assistant again tonight?”

She nodded. Seeing me topless had no effect on her. At this point, we’d seen it all, and many times too. She leaned in, lowering her voice so the other girls wouldn’t hear. “Rumor is your appointment tonight is with somebody special. Julius won’t even put his name on the schedule.”

My hands slowed. “Mr. Gold?”

“Fuck, no. Someone new.”

There was relief it wouldn’t be Katzenberg, but otherwise I didn’t feel the excitement I would have a month ago. I moved like a robot, striping off my clothes and slipping into the robe. It used to feel luxurious, but tonight it was cheap and scratchy on my skin.

When I was ready, we went down the stairs and turned into room five. My complacency continued as I shed the robe and climbed on the table. The chandelier overhead didn’t seem as bright. The crystals were dull and ordinary.

“You okay?” Nina asked as she handed me the blindfold. “You seem . . . unhappy.”

I was unhappy. Last week I’d been ready to walk away from this place for Grant. And now, here I was one week later, already back up on the table. Like it had all meant nothing. I donned the blindfold and tugged it over my eyes, not wanting to see the concern in hers.

“I’m fine,” I announced, telling myself more than her. I just needed to get through tonight. Then I’d get my life back to the way things used to be, and in a few weeks, I’d head to New York for Dance Dreams selection week.

She Velcro-ed closed the ribbons around my wrists and radioed to Julius that room five was all set.

I’d hoped that putting on the blindfold and the restraints would have calmed me, but it had the opposite effect. There was nothing else to focus on, other than my thoughts, and nowhere to run.

Why had Grant signed my name on the book he was writing, and not his own? Or at least, both of ours? We’d collaborated so well on the audition piece, but maybe seeing our names together would have been too much.

Once Nina had walked to the wingback chair in the corner and sat, the room was quiet as a tomb. I wanted it to feel like that. To be dead inside when the man came through the door and offered his hard-earned money to use my body however he wanted.

This feels fucking wrong.

I was a breath away from telling Nina I’d changed my mind and didn’t want to take the client, when the door creaked open and footsteps came in.

“Oh my God,” she gasped.