Page 37 of Masked in Deception
After spending hours setting up and scouring every dating site I can find, I realize moving on is pointless. There’s nobody out there for me but her. I wasn’t interested in dating before Margot, so why would I imagine there would be someone after Margot?
Before Margot and After Margot. The way I’ve been categorizing my life for the past two years. We’re technically in year 2 AM.
Okay, so dating is off the table, but I think it is time to at least end my celibacy. I own and operate a sex club, for Christ's sake. The problem is that I really don’t want to start fucking around at my own club. I did that back at the old Rendezvous, and it was messier than I’d like to admit.Especially if Margot is going to be around with the lingerie collab.
After some research of the offerings at a few of our best competitors, I find what I think will be the perfect setup to get my guy back in the game.
Join us on January 25 for an anonymous meetup. We know everyone will have varying preferences, so there will be a questionnaire to ensure comfort. We can’t wait to see you soon.
That sounds like exactly what I need. I can give my wrist some relief at least. And you know what? If I want to lean into the fantasy it’s a certain princess I’m fucking, so be it.
I click through the sign-up, selecting my preferences and submitting my testing, then add the date to my calendar. It’s only a few weeks away. God, why does itstillfeel like I’m cheating on her?
No, I’m not cheating on her. If she’d let me, I would whisk her away into the sunset, giving her the happily ever after she’s always wanted. I’ll always be ready to do that.
I don’t have to fall in love with another woman. My heart can belong to Margot for the rest of my life, but Ihaveto figure out how to function without her.
Sex is a primal, base-level need. This is only sex. Anonymous sex. Where I’ll probably be imagining her anyway. I have three weeks to decide.
I can see how tomorrow goes with our business meeting and go from there. It had been a long time since we’ve seen each other, and emotions were high because of the gender reveal. Maybe she was just as shell-shocked as I was to see each other for the first time in two years, and will have had some time to think. Perhaps she’ll think about my admissions and give me another chance. Maybe tomorrow will turn everything around.
Chapter thirty-five
Agreeing to a meeting at eleven in the morning is not something I would usually do, but I’d really rather get this initial walk-through at RendezvousToo completed first thing so that I can move on to more enjoyable pursuits. Luckily for me, I managed to book a promotional event for our jewelry store collab just after this, so I’m in full glam and a sinful dress before noon. Nobody will accuse me of not embodying my own collections today.
My black silk dress is relatively demure from the front, with a modest neckline. It’s tight, though, showing off my curves to full effect. The back, well, doesn’t exist. I’ll be wearing a diamond necklace reversed to hang down between my shoulders for the event, the pendant resting just above the dimples at my lower back. A little well-placed tape and I’m able to go bra-free and maintain the illusion that my tits are impervious to gravity.
Mom is away playing pickleball, so my New York right-hand man, Marco, is accompanying me to see what Jack’s new club has scrounged up to present to us. Although my mother assuredme that our involvement in this would be limited to the actual dressing of the models, with minor adjustments to the staging if needed, I prefer a hands-on approach when it comes to how my designs are presented. I don’t spend too much time thinking about the control-freak comments I’ve heard growing up because if the shoe fits, I’ll wear it. As the only girl and youngest child in my family, I knew what I wanted, and I consistently achieved it. I know what I like and how I prefer things, and anyone who has a problem with that doesn’t stick around La Reine long.
With a sigh, I’m reminded that I need to hire a new second assistant. Really, it’s not like the job is hard. I basically give them a schedule of tasks every week, and they just have todothem. But Val brought me the wrong lunch three days in a row last week, and I don’t make the rules. Three strikes and you’re out.I guess I do make the rules, technically, but still.If I can’t trust you with my lunch order, I can’t trust you with my business. As the car makes its way to the club from my apartment,not a far enough distance in my opinion,I feel…tired. I mean, it’s early, and I shouldn’t be out of my apartment yet. But still, it would be nice not to have to deal with all the fucking decisions about every aspect of my life, the designs,andthe business every single day.
We pull up to the service entrance of the building and walk in through the back offices on the first floor. A delivery person is pushing a motorized cart full of boxes of condoms into a store room, and I smirk. That’s probably the real problem here.I need to get laid.
I’ve been staring in silence for ten minutes, trying to take in the stage area of the club and think of exactly how I’m going to fix this disaster. Well, disaster might be a little unfair. Anyone who isn’t an expert on women’s bodies, angles, and lighting might think this looks fine. By average standards, this wouldexceed expectations. But I’ve never been average, and I’m not going to compromise now.
“All of this lighting needs to be replaced. It’s too harsh, and the placement isn’t going to do any of our dates any favors. It needs to be programmable, on a timer that can be paused and with the speed of the strobes adjusted manually, as I mentioned in the specs I sent weeks ago. The draping in the back is fine, but the material needs to be something less shimmery. Otherwise, it’s going to reflect like a nightmare. I don’t know if you thought I wouldn’t notice, but these fans are the cheaper option that I specifiednotto use. They’re loud and will be more noticeable in this space than the brand I requested. Replace them.” I sigh, somewhat dramatically, because I was really not expecting to have to micro-fucking-manage every aspect of this. The specification sheet hadliterallyall of these details. Fabrics, lighting, fans, placement, all of it. There are very few things I hate more than repeating myself.
“Princess, I’m sorry we’re not up to your standards.”
I don’t have to turn around to know who’s behind me. And I might actually hate that nickname more than I hate repeating myself.
Sighing, I turn back around to try to be civil, but my patience has really been worn thin this morning by the incompetence of Jack’s team. There’s the man himself, wearing tailored charcoal trousers with a pristine white shirt stretched across his wide chest, three buttons undone and still wearing the gold chain I never quite got a good look at years ago.Jack, you slut.
“Good morning, Mr. Carter. I’ve just informed your team of my notes regarding this draft of the staging. I would usually dictate them and leave them with your stage manager, but it’s word for word what I sent weeks ago. I recommend that your team start from scratch and follow the instructions Isent. They’re very detailed. I can’t see why there would be any confusion,” I say, short and to the point.
Jack opens his mouth to speak, but a man standing next to him beats him to it.
“It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Sinclair. I’m Aaron, Jack’s house manager.”
“A pleasure, Aaron. Are you about to tell me why my spec sheet was ignored?” I ask, very politely, very demure,taking deep breathsuntil ugh, too deep, I can smell Jack’s cologne.
Aaron cowers slightly under my scrutinizing gaze, and I’m reminded of the way Val looked at me just before I fired her. Jesus, I’m not that threatening, and I’m not asking too much. Justdo your jobper my very detailed directives. Aaron squeaks out something faintly resembling “family emergency,” then scurries out of the room. Jack turns to watch him go, then brings his gaze back to me, head cocked to the side.
“That was rude,” he says, still eyeing me with an unnerving amount of scrutiny.
“What’s rude is agreeing to collaborate with a business, committing to a certain level of service to ensure the expectations of the business are met, then ignoring a line-by-line page of instructions so simple an elementary school student could follow them. It’s a waste of my time when I have other things I would rather be doing,” I reply, still calm, cool, and collected.
“Like Marco?” Jack asks, his gaze growing cool as he eyes my colleague, who’s still close to the stage, trying to explain the color coordination system in my notes to Jack’s employees.Can they not read?
