Page 18 of Spooked

And poor. Was that why she hadn’t walked out? Despite looking like a model and being on the high end of competent as a PA, she lived paycheck to paycheck. Alexa had obtained her bank details from the payroll department and sent him a data dump of her recent transactions. And when he said “obtained,” he meant “stolen.” He’d given up trying to keep her out of the system. She saw every new firewall as a challenge, and besides, she had her uses. Like eight years ago, when, after a nightmare of a year when their former roommate, Levi Sykes, was convicted of murder and Levi’s parents tried to blame Ruby’s death on anyone but their darling son, Brax included, Alexa had stolen most of the Sykes family’s money and disappeared.

Poof.

Gone.

Her foster family had lived miles from the nearest town, and she’d vanished in the middle of the night, only to reappear several years later in digital form and tell him that a member of Dunnvale’s finance team was a crook.

Anyhow, back to Meera. Alexa’s checks covered the basics—Meera had indeed graduated from Harvard, and her former boss had been charged with indecent exposure several years ago, although the case was dropped when the main witness declined to testify in court. In an amazing coincidence, that same witness had obtained a brand-new car shortly afterward, despite having worse finances than Meera. A little more digging, and Alexa had discovered that the vehicle was purchased by one Robert Clifton, who just happened to be Lance Clifton’s father. Meera should have gotten herself a lawyer, and then she could have replaced the ageing Toyota registered in her name with a newer model.

“How much did Teresa tell you?” Brax asked.

“Enough. Prostitution is illegal in California, you know. I checked.”

“The women who work downstairs are hostesses, not prostitutes.”

“That’s just semantics.”

“Some don’t even sleep with clients.”

“But others do. I don’t think the cops would care about the technicalities.”

“The chief of police is a member here—I’ll be sure to ask him the next time he swings by to fuck Britney’s ass.” Meera flinched at the comment, leading Brax to conclude that she’d led a somewhat sheltered life. Missionary position all the way. “Which part do you have a problem with? Women owning their sexuality and making money out of it, or men enjoying themselves?”

“I—”

“Did you know we have female members too? One fellow bought his wife a membership after medical treatment left him impotent. He likes to watch.”

“But—”

“And what about our gay members who don’t yet feel ready to come out of the closet? We provide a safe place for them to shed their inhibitions. A new offering for us, and only in LA so far, but it’s proving to be successful.”

“I just—”

“We have some members who want to experience sexual satisfaction without the commitment of a relationship and others who make lasting friendships based on shared experiences—I believe we’ve had two weddings and an engagement so far. Many more clients just want to explore their kinks with willing partners who know what they’re doing. Every member and host submits to regular health screening, and privacy is guaranteed.” Brax twisted in his seat to face her. “So, what upsets you about the activities downstairs?”

“I…I don’t know. I guess… I guess I thought it was an investment company.”

“I also invest, in commodities mainly. And I can tell you for certain that hedge fund managers screw people for money more often than my staff do.”

Silence.

What was going on in that pretty head of hers? Brax wasn’t a fool—he understood that his job was unconventional—but he also had a healthy disrespect for authority that had only been exacerbated by the events that followed Ruby’s death. He’d seen the way people bowed down to Levi Sykes’s father just because he had money, but instead of becoming bitter, Brax had followed the old adage: if you can’t beat ’em, join ’em.

Besides, the current fashion for prudism was only temporary, he was convinced of that. Prostitution was the oldest profession in the world, older than the Bible, widespread in Ancient Rome, Ancient Greece, and indeed in the United States of America until a group of religious zealots had gained influence in the early twentieth century. Those killjoys were determined that if they couldn’t have fun, then nobody else could either.

But the tide was turning.

Senators, congressmen, judges… They were all members of Nyx. There was a good reason Brax had opened the first branch a stone’s throw from Washington, DC.

“Everything that takes place in the basement—we call it The Dark—happens by mutual consent. If you continue to work at Dunnvale, there’s nothing in your job description that would require you to go down there.”

And Brax was surprised to realise that he did want her to stay. Partly because he was sick of training new assistants, but mostly because she was exquisite. No, not exquisite. He gave himself a mental slap.Competent.

Finally, she spoke. “Where do the girls come from?”

“I poached the first ones from high-end escort agencies, but now it’s mostly word of mouth.”

“How? I mean, why? Sleeping with men is hardly a career, is it?”

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