Page 17 of The Naughty List
I got the consumer reports on the sex toys. Now I get the lingerie.
Here goes nothing.
I slam the Range Rover into park and shut off the engine.
Surely Hollis Rossi is not about to model lingerie for me. She’s definitely too shy for that. I don’t think I’ve ever heard her swear and she’s always dressed modestly.
After this, we can stop this nonsense and go back to our regularly scheduled lives. Finally. If she wants me to sit through the Victoria’s Secret fashion show, so be it.
I survived a year in a damn jungle. Several years in an octagon with men wanting to kill me. And scarier than either of those, my childhood.
I can handle anything Hollis Rossi throws at me.
I’m still repeating the mantra in my head when I enter the store and a bell chimes overhead.
Thankfully, Hollis is fully clothed when I walk into the frilly store. She holds an armful of lingerie while talking to an older woman. Her face lights up when she sees me.
“There he is, Madeline. Didn’t I tell you he’d be right on time?”
The store is empty save for us and one other lady minding her own business, but this is why Ihavea personal assistant.
I don’t shop. I hardly go into public at all if I can help it.
“This is where you want to have a meeting, Hollis?” I say in lieu of a greeting. “Not exactly the most ideal location for a business meeting if I’m being honest.”
Hollis remains unfazed by my attitude.
“Madeline, this is my boss, Jonah. Jonah, Madeline here has owned and operated this store for eleven years. She has three daughters and four beautiful grandchildren.”
“Nice to meet you,” I offer as kindly as I can manage. Of course Hollis already knows this woman’s life story. She’ll probably send her grandkids Christmas presents.
Madeline smiles sweetly at me and then at Hollis. “You were right. He’s very handsome.”
Hollis winks at me.
“Shall we?” Madeline offers, extending an arm toward a curtain that leads to God knows where.
I widen my eyes at Hollis. She smiles mischievously.
“Come, Jonah,” she whispers, her words shooting straight to my dick. “We don’t want to disappoint Madeline.”
This woman makes me insane.
“Yes, of course. Can’t have that.”
The next thing I know, I’m sitting in a periwinkle chair that feels like a cloud in a room full of mirrors. Half-naked mannequins surround me.
Like a fun house from my dirtiest dreams.
I wait for what feels like forever while various women come in and out of the stalls, chatting with Madeline, then with Hollis. A few of them sneak glances at me here and there but I’m careful not to make eye contact.
The press would just love to get a whiff of this. They’ve hit me hard with nothing but negative publicity since I left the UFC. One grainy cell phone photo of me here and the front page of tomorrow’s paper would probably accuse me of cross-dressing.
I focus on my phone, scrolling through work E-mails, pretending the anxiety of not knowing what the hell is about to happen isn’t driving me mad.
Finally, Hollis closes the curtains on three of the dressing rooms and claps her hands.
“Jonah, if we can have your attention, I think you’ll find exactly what you’re looking for.”
