Three Little Mistakes (Blindfold Club 3)

“Yeah?” I waited for the feeling of terror to seize me, but all I felt was mild warmth. I was . . . pleased.

“Not to be nosey, but your clubs do well? I mean, your place is nice, but the trip won’t be cheap.”

I gave her half a laugh. “My clubs do all right, and I have investments. Keep in mind, I’ve been in the financial world a lot longer than you have.”

It was her turn to laugh. “That’s highly doubtful, Mr. Monsato. You want to compare notes?”

“Here I was, thinking you wanted to get in my pants, not my portfolio, Ms. Rosso.”

She made a face. “Groan.”

I leaned in again, trapping her in my arms. “You should know, it was a question. But if you’d said no, it would have become an order.”

“I’m addicted.” Her soft voice wrapped all around me. “I’m not going to say no.”

Something was wrong with me. I stared at the bank of flickering monitors and felt nothing. No stir of desire or swell of power over commanding this den of sin. Chantal seemed to be having the fuck of her life in Room Three. She thrashed against the restraints, reaching out toward the man that was ramming her. Since she had on the blindfold, she couldn’t see he was balding, but I’m sure she could tell his gut spilled over his belt.

Sometimes the less attractive men were the best lay, the girls said, and I’d seen plenty of proof. They tried so damn hard, and it made them focused. Eager to please. It was working for Chantal. She wasn’t much of an actress. I was happy for her, and that her string of bad luck was finally over. She’d struck out on reaching a deal with the last few johns, and the ones who had stepped up either couldn’t find a clitoris or didn’t care to.

I’d had half the mind to meet them in the payment room and explain how much better sex was when you weren’t only in it for yourself. Maybe I should text Noemi for Ross’s number so I could have that conversation with him and save the next girl he was with from lackluster sex.

No, I don’t think Noemi would care for that. But I texted her anyway, telling her she was a filthy girl and I was thinking about her. A female voice rang out from above, and I pocketed my phone quickly, like a child caught in the act.

“Who is she?” Payton asked. She stood on the other side of my desk, her expression demanding.

My pulse kicked. “Don’t worry about it.”

Payton’s face took a dubious cast and her voice was pointed. “She’s just some starving grad student.”

“Yeah.”

“Bullshit.” In her absence, I’d forgotten just how good Payton was at reading lies. “What grad student owns a five hundred dollar purse, Joseph?”

There was no way Payton would let this go, but perhaps it would be good for me to reveal it and get some perspective. I trusted Payton. Realistically, she was the closest I had to a best friend. I glanced at my open doorway. “Close the door and I’ll tell you.”

When it was done, Payton sank down in the seat opposite my desk.

“She’s Noemi Rosso.”

It was like she hadn’t heard me. She seemed to process the information clinically. “Are you out of your fucking mind?”

“Yes.” I rested my elbows on the desk and set my head in my hands.

“He’ll run you out of Chicago. He’ll destroy you when he finds out.”

Even I barely believed it. “He won’t find out.”

Her laugh was skeptical. “Have you seen the way she looks at you? That girl’s at least halfway in love.”

“Shit, I know.” I didn’t tell Payton how strong Noemi’s power was over me. Couldn’t bring it into words. “I’m taking her to Hawaii with me.”

Payton shook her head. “You are fucking insane, and you’re going to crush her.”

“It’s just an infatuation. It’ll pass.”

“Are we talking about for her, or you?” She leaned closer and my body stiffened as she pissed me off. “You think it’ll pass because nothing lasts forever?”

“Don’t fucking push me, honey.”