“Let me see your card.” Jasmine holds her hand out to Avery.
He shakes his head. “I’m no longer a member. I prefer not to parade my sexual desires around in front of others.”
“In front of others,” Haven repeats. “Like they watch each other down there?” Her amber eyes are wide.
My eyes go to Emilee, and she blushes. My dirty girl would like that.
“Yes. As I said, all the rooms are glass. You can watch all of it. Or you can choose the one room they offer for privates. They accommodate all tastes,” Tristan adds.
“And what are your tastes?” Jasmine asks him with a raised brow.
“We’re getting off track,” Luca says, running a hand down his face before Tristan can answer her. “But you can confirm he’s been there?”
Tristan goes to speak, but Emilee interrupts him. “This is George we’re talking about. How in the hell did he find fifty thousand dollars to join a sex club?” she asks skeptically. “And how does that work anyway?” She looks back and forth between Avery and Tristan. “This is September. The year is almost over.”
We’re assuming our contact is George. When we looked up the number, it was not available. So, it has to be a burner phone of some sort. But he is the only guy we can think of who would send someone to the York’s house who would know about a safe in the office. No one else makes sense. But she has a point. Where would George find that kind of money for a sex club? But I’m also not an idiot. He’s had money this entire time. He refused to pay us because he didn’t want to. Not because his funds were unavailable.
“Doesn’t matter.” Tristan shakes his head once at her question. “You pay full price no matter when you want to join. So, say you just have to join in December. Come January, you’re paying again.”
“Seriously, this is my dream job.” Jasmine nods to herself. “Sex. Money. Exclusive clubs.”
“Here, I have a picture for you.” Tristan reaches into his pocket and removes his cell. He scrolls through it for a few seconds and then hands it to me.
I stare down at it. My blood running cold.
“Titan?” Bones calls out.
I blink, bringing the picture closer to my face. “Uh …” I clear my throat. “When was this taken?”
“Two nights ago.”
I start shaking my head. “That’s impossible.”
“I was there. I took it,” Tristan announces. “You gave us the number. As you said, it was not in any database. But we were able to ping it to Kink. Then we had a woman reach out to that number. She made contact, and I took the picture. That’s what took us so long. He wasn’t responding at first. It took him a couple of days to take the bait.”
Fuck! I hand him back the phone. Standing, I start to head to the door of our suite. “Bones!” I snap before walking out.
“What the hell is going on?” he demands, entering the hallway and shutting the door behind him.
I begin to pace.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“We were wrong,” I say.
“About?”
“We thought this was George. It had to have been George who sent the guy to collect the money from the York’s residence.”
“Yeah. So why do you seem so confused now?”
“He was the only plausible answer,” I ramble.
“I agree,” he goes on.
“But …” Fuck! This is worse than I thought.
“But what?” he demands.
I continue to pace. My mind trying to piece together what I know and what I saw.
“Titan, but what?” He grips my shoulders and yanks me to a stop.
My wide eyes search his. “We were wrong.”
EMILEE
“What do you think they’re talking about?” I ask, biting on my nails as I stare at the door. Whatever was on that phone, Titan did not like.
“Who cares?” Jasmine answers, gawking at Avery and Tristan. They’ve vacated the couch and now stand over by the floor-to-ceiling windows talking to Luca. Avery stands with his arms crossed over his chest while Tristan leans his shoulder onto the window with his hands in the front pockets of his black slacks. The fabric pulling across his bubble ass. Even I can’t deny that they are both hot. Chiseled jawlines. Blue eyes and dark hair. They could almost pass as twins. But I heard Titan talking about them earlier. I know that Avery is the oldest, and he has facial hair where Tristan is clean shaven.
They wear expensive suits and Rolex watches. They look like pretty boys. They remind me of the boys in college who drove Teslas and spent Daddy’s money on vacations to the Hamptons and weekends in Paris. But something tells me that’s not what they do or how they make their income. They may be nice to look at, but they have this air about them that screams dangerous.