Page 78 of The Boss

I want her to think about me every moment that we’re here. To watch those millionaires and their lucky partners have the sexual times of their lives and imagine that it’s us getting up to no good. Maybe not getting up on the stage and making a spectacle of us, but at least enjoying the shows as they come and go.

“Excuse me,” she finally whispers. “Where is the nearest restroom?”

Moreau snaps her fingers. A server clad in all black steps out from the corner with a bow. “Please escort Ms. Penrose to the nearest ladies’ room.”

“Absolutely.” The woman gestures to the staircase a few feet away. “Right this way.”

Alessa spares me one last glance before gathering her purse and stepping over my feet to get to the server. Likewise, Moreau and I exchange looks. “So,” I begin, pretending that my girlfriend isn’t in way over her head, “when does the baby come home?”

Her gaze follows Alessa to the edge of the room. An amused countenance tells me she’s having pleasant memories of how she met her wife—it’s not a secret that she was a server here. Now Mrs. Moreau opens clubs and restaurants almost as quickly as Presley does.

“Sunday,” she says, turning her attention back to me. “Now tell me when your wedding is so I can clear my calendar for the event of the year.”

I smile but don’t say anything. In due time, at the rate Alessa and I are going.

Chapter 37

Alessa

Damnit, Julianna!

I should’ve known she was up to something. She’s always pulling “surprises” like this, and I’m pretty sure it’s because she gets off on seeing how shocked I am every. Single. Time.

She brought my unknowing ass to a sex club, for crying out loud. I don’t care how nice and swanky it is. There are people hitting home runs on a stage in front of me, and all I want to do is go to the damn bathroom to tinkle.

See, theoretically, none of this bothers me. I probably would’ve been excited to come if she had gone over it with me first. Maybe, I dunno, asked. (It’s such a strange concept for her, I know.) My life revolves around this asshole springing me with surprises like“Put on your slinky cocktail dress, Alessa,”and“By the way, here’s your collar, Princess. We’re going to a BDSM dungeon tonight! What? It’s for rich people. It’s totally legit.”

Her telling me to put my work away sealed the deal. It was one thing to ask me to dress up like an expensive escort because it was part of this place’s dress code. Quite another to imply that we’re here to get comfortable, not to do business. Nope. I suppose that’s for the big lunch meeting we’re doing at a fancy restaurant tomorrow afternoon.

“What the fuck,” I ask my reflection in the toilet paper dispenser. Beside me, one lucky woman is having the public bathroom orgasm of her life, and her female partner is encouraging her to do it louder. “What the fuck, Alessa.”

I pull my phone out of my purse even though the line is now out the door because me and the women next door are squatting in our stalls instead of getting a move on with our bladders. Cheers as friends recognize each other, some with the lushest European accents you’ve ever heard, sound through the large restroom. At least they drown out the woman in the next stall.

When I emerge, I find a long line of the most beautiful women in the world. Supermodels. Heiresses. Lower-class women who are hot and submissive enough to get cheap admission if they promise to entertain. Many of them are on their phones taking selfies, texting friends… and is one of them talking to her mom back in Taiwan? What a world.

A world I’m not entirely sure I belong in.

I mean, look at me. Or don’t. God knows I’m not interested in looking at my reflection right now. I’m still kind of a wreck after the long plane ride here. I thought Julianna and I would be meeting Ms. Moreau in a quiet place to discuss actual business. Heaven forbid!

The server isn’t around to show me back to the VIP room. I know where it is. Finding the stairs isn’t the problem. Theproblemis finding my way through the crowd on this wild night.

I am so out of my element. Jamie Coleman couldn’t have prepared me for this. I don’t think anyone could have… leastof all Julianna, who thinks springing surprises on me is the funniest thing in the world. It’s a miracle I survived April Fool’s in her presence.

“Hey, sweetie.” A tall, imposing woman in all black leans against the wall in the shadows. I didn’t even see her as I tried to pass. “Don’t suppose you came here alone, because you’ve been fun to watch.”

“I…” Who is this? Why is she talking to me? Everything’s loaded with double-entendres, isn’t it? Ones that I can’t even understand! “I’m here with someone, sorry.”

“Oh, well.” She shrugs her lean shoulders. A look that implies I may have walked away from the night of my life hits me like a slap to the face. “Maybe next time, honey.”

“I’m here with Julianna Marcon.”

Why was I compelled to say something like that? Do I think throwing my girlfriend’s name at her is going to change anything?Whyam I touching the leather collar around my neck?

Deep down, I know why. Julianna has practically trained me for moments like these.Other people are going to hit on me wherever we go. Not only do I have to know how to gracefully turn them down, but I also must ensure they know who they are possibly fucking with.

As if on cue, the woman’s confident countenance falters. “Didn’t know she was in town.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Right. Grace and dignity. I don’t want to insult this woman… even though she thought it perfectly pertinent to hit on me as I walked by her. In a sex club, but whatever. “Excuse me. She is expecting me upstairs.”

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