Page 61 of Black Velvet

I shake my head. "Not at all."

And that's the problem, right there. Itiswork. I shouldn't want to be lingering here after we're done, and I certainly shouldn't be daydreaming about this man, when for all I know, he could disappear from my life at any moment without owing me anything but the payment for today’s services. He's still paying an extra fee to reserve this room for just the two of us every single night. I need to remember that. We have an agreement between us, a contract, and he’s paying a lot of money to secure our time together.

It's a business deal, not a romantic relationship.

But it's so fucking hard to accept that.

Chapter 36

Damon

I have been waking up in rather good moods lately, maybe because I’ve been going to bed and falling asleep with my balls emptied and my heart as full as my head. Elene occupies almost all the space I have to give, even pushing aside the business that I would have agonized over way more than I do if it wasn't for her. I have seen her every single night for almost two weeks now. She's keeping me stable, satiated, and...happy.

Happy – a word I've never, ever tied to myself. Is this what it feels like when a high doesn't end after a violent rush? It keeps you elevated for days, weeks, maybe months? Is this something that could last foryears?

I wouldn't mind drifting along on these comforting thoughts for a while longer, but reality calls for my undivided attention like an officer beating down my door, threatening to destroy everything I have built over the past few years.

"Fraud?!" I yell at my poor adviser, watching him flinch under my enraged voice. "What the fucking hell, Dean?! Fraud?!"

Dean is sitting behind the large desk in my office, as always surrounded by mountains of paperwork, as if it’s going to protect him from my fury. I'm pacing angrily up and down the, back and forth, trying to remain as far away as possible from him in the confined space. He's not the one to blame for this shit, I know that. Dean is merely the messenger, bringing me news that is far more shocking than the possibility of losing my investment in a risky startup venture.

"How the hell could this happen to us?" I bark at the poor guy. "Is this not why we incorporate antifraud provisions in our contracts? We must have some kind of insurance for this!"

Dean raises his hands in defense. "I'm looking into it. You don't have to worry-"

"Don't have to worry?!" I cut him off, yelling louder than I had intended. "We should have seen this coming! This is why he has been so ambiguous about his use of proceeds — because that motherfucker never intended to execute the fucking business plan he presented to us in the first place."

Dean nods along as I recount the things he informed me of this morning. Scott, that little shithead, committed fraud on such a large scale that I’d almost be impressed, if it wasn't that he got caught and decided to dragmyname through the mud with him. As his startup’s primary investor, I'm also liable for the crime he committed, even though I had nothing to do with his actions.

"He used the provision that his business was exempt from having to be registered with regulatory authorities to his advantage," Dean explains to me again, only echoing the things he already told me earlier today. "There will be an investigation, and as long as that is going on, I suggest we keep our heads low. I have scheduled a meeting with our attorneys for later this afternoon. You'll see, in a few weeks tops, this will all be behind us."

He clears his throat, and then adds, "As will the money you invested, I'm afraid."

"Fuck the money," I snarl. "That's not what I'm worried about. You know I didn’t invest more than I could afford to lose."

He nods. "As always, you made a very smart decision."

"Thanks," I say, unable to hide the sarcasm in my tone.

"Scott is the one at fault for misstating his security offer toward you. The authorities are focused on him," Dean says, in an effort to calm me. "They need to talk to you first, to confirm that you were truly unaware of his plans and he deceived you."

"Easy enough," I snarl.

"Until then I suggest laying low," Dean adds. He has an odd expression on his face, one that almost appears painful.

I jerk my chin in his direction, asking for him to clarify his counsel .

"Well, um, I had to contact everyone you're doing business with at the moment," he stammers uncomfortably, shifting in his seat, as he always does when he's about to deliver bad news. "That lady, the madam at that club, The Velvet Rooms. I had to call her to share what we're dealing with at the moment."

"And?" I urge, when he stops speaking, only adding an unnecessary pause when I was already at the edge of my seat.

"Any further investment from you has been withdrawn," he finally ventures. "Or, rather, it’s been put on hold."

My breath catches, and it feels as if a tight clamp is closing around my throat, cutting off the oxygen to my lungs. A strange nauseating feeling churns in my gut, a fiery and sickening blend that delivers an unexplained sense of foreboding panic and loss rushing through my veins.

"What does that mean?" I produce through clenched teeth.

"They're no longer accepting your money," Dean states. "And your VIP status has been revoked. For now."

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