Page 61 of The Price of Forever

“No problem. Happy to do business with you.” He clapped me on the back, then strode into the lounge area where the men prowled like sharks, though he probably only saw them as dollar signs. I brought my phone out again, sending the next batch of instructions to Trojan.

SEVEN: You’ve got a special appointment in ten minutes. Head to the VIP room, you get a half hour with Jordan. In here, she’s called Sapphire.

Trojan turned around to stare at me with one squinted eye from across the room.

TROJAN: If you guys are into threesomes, I hate to tell you, but that’s not my style.

SEVEN: I’ll be outside, standing guard

TROJAN: Even creepier. What the fuck?

How to explain myself as much as possible without giving away the truth? I couldn’t admit that I was desperate for Jordan. Almost as desperate as I was to be rid of these feelings.

SEVEN: I just need you to see what happens in there. Ask for her special move. See if there’s anything new or exciting she can show you. Push as much as you can. Offer extra money. But do not even think about touching her. I need to know something and you’re going to find out for me.

I scanned the room between texts. Jordan dragged her finger along the bottom of an old man’s chin, saying something I couldn’t make out.

TROJAN: This is weird dude.

SEVEN: You’re getting a half hour with Manhattan’s best stripper. I think you’ll survive.

TROJAN: You promise you won’t hurt me when I come out of there?

SEVEN: Promise. Because we both know you won’t enjoy it when I’m waiting out here to break your jaw if you so much as touch her.

TROJAN: So let’s recap. Get lured to a strip club by my best friend, forced into a VIP room with the best stripper on the planet with the strict instructions to not enjoy it or touch her, then come out and tattle about what happened. Is that right?

SEVEN: Spot on.

TROJAN: Jesus fucking Christ, you’ve got it bad for this one.

I pocketed my phone without answering. I was almost entirely sure that Jordan had made up the story about trying out a new routine, even if she purportedly planned to use it only with exclusive customers. But for now, I just needed to test the theory and prove myself right, or I would internally combust.

His head tipped back as he downed his shot. Then he headed my way, shouldering into me on his way past.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, kind stranger, I didn’t see you there.”

I stifled a grin. “Move along. If you’re looking for the VIP rooms, they’re right over there.” I tipped my head in the direction he needed to go. “The first one. Your time slot starts in two minutes.”

“So gracious.” The sarcasm leaked out of his words. Jordan was headed this way, which meant I didn’t give him the shove he deserved. She clomped over in her sky-high heels, adjusting the strap of her bodysuit along the way. She glanced at me briefly, lifting her brows before heading for the VIP room. She greeted Trojan, then took him by the hand and led him inside.

Now all I could do was stand beside the door and watch the clock.

Time moved at a glacial pace. My stomach twisted into knots. I tried to imagine what I’d do if Trojan came out of there and told me she offered to use the vibrator with him, like she told me. Seriously, what the fuck did you just do? Tell him to ask for the special move, but then he can’t touch her if she goes there. But if she does the special move and grinds on his cock like she did with you, it doesn’t matter if he gives in, because you can’t move forward with her. Even though there’s no forward to be had with Jordan. So none of this matters. This is pointless. Just give it up.

My thoughts were folded up into origami. None of this made any fucking sense.

I tortured myself with thoughts like these until Trojan’s time was up. The door swung open. Jordan’s giggles reached me first, then Trojan stumbled out a moment later.

“Had a blast, thank yooou,” Jordan cooed.

Her next booking had been lurking outside the VIP room for the last ten minutes at least. When Trojan cleared out, Jordan welcomed in the next guy, wiggling her fingers at him. After the door shut behind them, I whistled to snag Trojan’s wandering attention and tipped my head toward the back hallway.

“Holy shit,” was the first thing he said once we were stationed in front of the men’s room.

“I need to know what happened.”

He blinked a few times, still dazed. “Have you seen her dance before?”

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