Page 4 of Baby Bombshell for the Boss

“Tech. Hey, this is our first stop.”

Ivy couldn’t help feeling that Elliot had dodged her question. She wondered why. Was he simply modest, or did he do something he wasn’t allowed to talk about? Maybe he works for the government or something and he has to keep it confidential.

And speaking of secrets — she looked up at the door they had stopped in front of. “This is where we’re going?”

It was a plain black door in the side of an unmarked building. Ordinarily, Ivy would have walked right past it. It looked as if it probably led to a warehouse or a shady tattoo parlor or something. It didn’t even look like the kind of door that would open if you tried it — it would probably be locked.

Ivy looked back at Elliot. “Are you sure this is the right place?” she asked.

He grinned. “This is it, all right. Stand back.”

She did as he’d requested. Elliot stepped forward and knocked a rhythmic pattern on the door. It made Ivy think of a secret handshake.

A moment later, the door opened and a man in a three-piece suit leaned out. Ivy definitely hadn’t expected to see someone fitting that description behind this door. Taken aback, she frowned, trying to figure out what was going on.

“Good evening, Mr. Livingston,” the man in the suit said.

“Hey, Sam,” Elliot responded. “Just one guest tonight.”

The man nodded once. He stepped back and pulled the door wide so that the two of them could go inside. Elliot put his arm around Ivy’s shoulders — it gave her a quick shiver of pleasure to be touched by him like that — and pulled her inside.

“What is this place?” Ivy asked.

The room they were standing in was far too nice to have been hiding behind that door. The carpet was white and plush and Ivy felt wrong wearing her shoes on it. There was a coat closet off to one side, and at the back of the space, a staircase leading up and out of sight.

“This way,” Elliot said, pointing to the stairs.

Ivy followed him up, looking around wonderingly at all the sights. When they reached the top, she gasped — she couldn’t help it.

They were standing in a small room — small, but opulent. Music played softly through several speakers. There was a lit-up bar at one end of the room, and two- and four-person tables were scattered around the space. Most were taken up with people, but Elliot led her over to an empty one and they sat down.

“I take it you’ve never been here?” he asked.

“I don’t see how anyone’s here,” Ivy admitted. “How are people even supposed to find this place? You’d walk right by it if you didn’t already know about it.”

“That’s the point,” Elliot said. “The only way you ever find out is if someone else tells you. It’s one of the most exclusive clubs in all of New York, simply for the fact that nobody knows it’s here.”

“But wouldn’t word spread pretty quickly?” Ivy asked. “I mean, it makes sense that no one knew about it at first, but as soon as someone tells ten of their friends, the secret will be out, and everyone will start finding out about it exponentially, right?”

“You’d think so,” Elliot said. “But actually, secrets like this one tend to stay kept. Nobody who knows about this place wants to ruin it by writing a blog and inviting in a bunch of tourists. There’s something special about being the only people who know it’s here. You’re not going to tell anyone, right?”

He didn’t sound concerned. He sounded like he knew already what answer Ivy was going to give and the question was just a formality.

And, Ivy realized, if he thought he knew what she was going to say, he was right. She wasn’t going to tell anyone. She didn’t even know if she would come back here on her own. The place felt too rare and special — and anyway, she didn’t think she could remember the knock Elliot had done to get them in, and she had a feeling the door wouldn’t be opened for anyone who didn’t offer the proper knock.

“I’ll get us some drinks,” Elliot announced. “What do you like? I know you were planning on wine tonight, but if you’re open to it, the cocktails here are really something.”

“Whatever you recommend,” Ivy said, feeling in the mood to follow someone else’s lead.

He grinned and went up to the bar. A moment later, he was back with a tall, purple drink that was steaming, but when Ivy held her hand to the glass, it was cold.

“Dry ice,” Elliot explained. “It’s served in a special cup — see the compartment there at the bottom? That’s where the dry ice goes, so it makes your drink steam up, but you aren’t actually consuming it.”

“That’s wild.” Ivy took a slow sip. The drink was cold and tasted like berries. “This is delicious.”

“It’s one of my favorites. And you can’t get it anywhere else in New York — you can’t get it anywhere else in the world, as far as I’m aware.”

“Wow,” Ivy said. “How did you find this place?”

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