Page 16 of Room Nine: For Their Eyes Only

They’re wrong. We don’t need to explore our feelings for Vivienne. The more time we spend with her, the harder it will be to let her go.

Chapter11

“I’ve got fresh tea straight from the kettle,” Elsa hums, her enthusiasm at an all-time high. This is the first time I’ve seen her all week, which isn’t typical of our friendship. I assumed she’d finally given her pathetic boyfriend the brush off and had chosen to lay low while she worked through her grief. But the smile on her face doesn’t exactly scream breakup.

I look around the near-empty coffee house, eyeing the two steaming cups of coffee our server set down moments ago, and stare perplexed. “Did you want tea? I could have sworn I heard you ask for coffee. Tell the server to correct it. He’s a nice guy, and the place is dead. I doubt it will be a problem.”

Elsa angles her head, her brows knit with confusion. She emits an audible sigh and shakes her head with exasperation. “What’s going on with you? I’vegottea. Tea! National Enquirer quality gossip!” Her high-pitched shriek makes me jump in my seat, and a few drops of coffee land on my sweater. Thank goodness I wore black. I place the cup onto the saucer and wipe my chin with a branded napkin.

“For heaven’s sake. Pardon me for not automatically getting the reference. I’m from New York,” I reply. “Next time, tell me you’ve got dirt.”

She sips her coffee, wrinkles her nose with distaste, then stirs another teaspoon of sugar into the cup. “Genevieve Pink, are you seeing someone? You’ve been acting so mysterious the last week. Either you’re hiding from the law, or you’ve fallen in love with a wildly inappropriate man you refuse to discuss.” Elsa unbelievably hits the nail on the head. I’m not running from the law, but my father’s minions are far worse.

“I have a lot on my mind.” I hesitate for a moment, still unaccustomed to being called Genevieve. The only reason I chose that moniker is to make it easy for someone to call me Vivi. I should have stuck to Vivienne.

“Like what?” Elsa never lets me get away with anything. And as much as I’d love to discuss my infatuation with two, maybe three men, I’m not ready to hear her questions or condemnation. Besides, there’s no way to accurately describe my feelings because I don’t understand my emotions. I feel hot, bothered, and horny, but I’m unsure who I want more.

Three men are not a possibility. I don’t care what they say or do with other women. I’m unsure where I’d find the stamina if I wasn't morally opposed. There aren’t enough B-12 vitamins to produce the energy level I’d need to fuck three hot men on a regular basis.

Last night, the storm brewing in my panties took an exciting turn. I think I met brother number three. When I subtly asked if his brothers used the app, he ignored my question. I wanted to try a bolder approach, but asking a man about other men when they’re paying five hundred dollars for an hour of your time is bad for business.

His name is Viktor. He’s broad-shouldered, barrel-chested, tatted, rippled with dark-blond hair and striking green eyes. He looks like he’s been torn from the pages of a romance book cover—the wild ones that keep me up way past my bedtime. There was no reason a man who looked like him should be searching for a good time online, but I could say the same for Andrei and Vadim.

Each one is a magnificent specimen of masculinity, and responsible for turning me into a needy puddle of lust every time we talk.

“Are you listening to my story? I never have good tea, and you’re acting like you don’t want to hear it,” Elsa whines loudly enough to snap me out of my lusty daze. I’d almost forgotten she was here.

“No, sorry, I’m so distracted. I had a long night. Spill your tea. I’m listening.” I’m failing as a friend. Elsa might have her faults, but she’s always been there when I needed her.

After four months on the run, looking over my shoulder and hiding from my powerful father, I’ve become self-absorbed and wary of strangers. I work so hard hustling online, making connections, and bringing in new customers, I hardly have a chance to experience anything in the real world. Elsa is the exception, and I’m grateful for her patience.

Our friendship keeps me sane.

Elsa gives me a broad smile and jazz hands, leaning forward to speak as if someone is idling nearby. The coffee house is a ghost town. “I took your advice.” Her first sentence is short, sweet, and utterly vague. I can tell by the gleaming look in her eyes that she wants to draw it out over the next hour.

I get it. Today is dedicated to Elsa, and I’m here to provide feedback.

“My advice? What did I suggest?” I break a piece of biscotti in half, tap out the crumbs on a napkin, take a bite, and continue, “Don’t keep me waiting. I’m all ears.”

Elsa takes a deep breath, filling her lungs to ensure she can get through the following sentence without a break. She wiggles her bottom and scoots to the edge of her seat. “Do you know there’s a sex club in New Orleans?” Her eyebrows wag, and her fire-engine-red lips tip into a wicked smile.

She swats the air and chuckles. “Of course, you don’t know. You would have told me. There's no way you could have kept it all to yourself.”

I’m fucking flabbergasted.

I blink rapidly, too dumbstruck to speak. Sex club?

“It’s called Club Sin, and it’s just outside town. It’s on an old plantation that looks perfectly normal on the outside but is deviant as fuck on the inside. It’s gorgeous, elegant, and full of the hottest men I’ve ever seen. I can’t believe I’ve wasted two years living in New Orleans and never heard about it before,” she buzzes gleefully, her eyes wide with wonder.

“Club Sin? Did you go? I can’t believe you’d go to a sex club without me,” I complain with a pout, ignoring that I wouldn’t be any fun at a sex club.

What would I do? Stare? Sip a drink and dance alone at the bar? Those places are fascinating to read about, but I’d be uncomfortable standing in a room waiting for someone to proposition me. I can’t have sex with a stranger.

Not yet, anyway.

It’s not as if I expect perfection the first time around, but I’d like it to be memorable.

“Why would I go with you? You’re a pretty girl, but I don’t think of you like that.” She sticks out her tongue and smirks. “I went with my neighbor, Jax, the cop. He told me all about it over drinks. After he regaled me with stories he heard, piquing my interest and holding me hostage at the edge of my seat, he had the nerve to say we’d go another time, but I was dying to see it. It’s a shame we couldn’t go past the lounge. Neither of us were members.”

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