Page 4 of Dirty Intentions

“You’d guess correctly.”

She had spunk; I’d give her that. “What are the pictures for?”

“Well, nothing says insurance better than a photo of your former fiancé fucking another woman while getting it in the ass at the same time by a dude.”

If this wasn’t so serious, then I might have grinned at her choice of words. “Insurance against what? You’re a woman who came in tonight to get proof your fiancé was cheating. So now go home, throw his clothes out, and do whatever you women do to get your revenge, but leave my club out of it.”

She gritted her teeth. “I have something that could be useful to you.”

I raised a brow, slowly scanning up from her fuck-me, thigh-high boots to the short dress that gave me a glimpse of skin. Her breasts, although not large, were certainly real. And despite the fact she was wearing a lot of makeup, I could see that under it she was beautiful. For a moment, I wanted nothing better than to rip off her wig to see the color of her hair. But the murderous glare she was shooting me gave me pause, not to mention amusement.

“Jesus. Are all men pigs? I meant your damn security system. Obviously, I’m not throwing myself at the owner of a sex club. I’m not that pathetic.”

Normally I didn’t give a shit what people thought about me, having perfected such an art form years ago. But this particular woman’s audacity to think herself too good for me snapped my temper. “I can assure you I’d rather jerk off than fuck someone vanilla like you.”

I immediately saw the hurt flash in her eyes and instantly regretted my words. I’d made this personal when it was only business.

“I’m sure my fiancé had the same thought. And the insurance I speak of is because he took my money, and I want it back.” She dug in her clutch and handed over a small camera. “I’ll be going now unless you have any other insults you’d prefer to hurl before I do.”

Unbelievable. “As if implying you’d never stoop so low as to sleep with me wasn’t starting it.”

Her pretty face showed confusion. “What the hell are you talking about? You know what? It doesn’t matter. I need to go.”

I was about to let her. Getting the camera should have been enough, but I needed to address one more thing. How had she gotten in tonight?

My gaze landed on Lance coming out of the elevator. He’d been on the door when Ms. Beth Jones—which couldn’t be her real name—had come through.

“Wait one moment. Lance, do you remember letting this woman in the door earlier tonight?”

Lance assessed her quickly but shook his head. “Sorry, sir. I don’t remember her. There were a lot of women dressed similarly tonight.”

“Yes, but this one gave you a fake ID. It might have looked authentic, but it was cloned from the card of a male member, which she is definitely not. That you should’ve caught. Clear out your things. You’re fired.”

She gasped. “What? No. You can’t fire him.”

***

Daniella

The arrogant asshole had the nerve to arch a brow at me.

“I’m the owner. I can do whatever I like.”

“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.” Lance spoke up, ready to leave.

Could I help it if my guilt was heavy? I’d come to expose a cheater, not make some poor guy lose his job. “No, wait. I’ll show you how I cloned the cards. That’s what I was offering before. But if I show you, then you have to let, uh, Lance keep his job. You have a serious security breach with the way your cards are designed.”

I watched him contemplate. “Are you a computer hacker?”

“No, just really good with them.”

“And how are you with accounting? Because if I dismiss Eric from the club, I’m going to be without an accountant.”

My eyes widened. “You let Eric handle your books? Are you a client of his firm?”

“No. He did this on the side to compensate for his, uh, membership fee. He is an accountant, is he not?”

“Yeah, one who stole money and doesn’t have the accumulated wealth he boasts about.” I used air quotes to highlight the last few words.

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