Page 38 of Beneath the Blindfold

Not today. My frown made Brandon go five shades whiter.

“How does it feel?” he asked, nervous. “Is there something wrong with the fit?”

“Nah.” I forced the scowl away. “Bad day, is all.”

Brandon nodded. “Hey, at least it’s Friday.”

Except Friday was the beginning of my ‘work week,’ not the end of it. And it was Friday, the day she was going out withhim. For once, I wasn’t looking forward to going to my club. Being around all the sex was going to make me think about Court and if she was going to fuck her date tonight if things went well.

“I’m gonna wear it out,” I said. “Is that cool?”

The tags were already gone, removed before the tailoring, and I’d worn the right pair of shoes into the store. I figured I’d go straight from the shop to the club, and get some shit sorted out before opening tonight. Anything to keep my mind off her.

“Of course, sir,” Brandon said. “You’re all set. Have a nice night.”

Yeah, that was real fucking doubtful.

TWO

JULIUS

I sat at my desk and eyeballed the bottle of bourbon. Kyle had given it to me as a birthday present. It was some classy shit, or so he said, but I didn’t like it. I stuck it in my office to make me look good. Even though this place was a blindfold club, looks mattered.

My club was my kingdom. My leather desk chair was so big, some of the girls called it my throne, and when I was in it, I could see every inch of the place through the monitors. Nothing went down in the rooms without me knowing about it.

Was it too early to start drinking?

Some of my staff were already in the building, but the girls wouldn’t show up for another few hours.

I checked my phone. Court hadn’t texted me. She hadn’t sent out an SOS asking for help bailing on her date, which had started thirty minutes ago. Plenty of time for her to sneak away to the bathroom and tell me how awful the guy was . . . but she hadn’t. Fuck, it meant the date was going well.

Panic was too big a word, but it was like ants were crawling on me. I’d waited too long. I was gonna miss my window, and wasn’t going to be lucky enough to get another chance with her. I had to fucking do something.

When I called her, it went right to voicemail. I thumbed out a text instead of leaving a message.

Me:Need to talk. It’s important.

Minutes dragged by. The text said it’d been delivered, but not read. I set the phone down, covered my fist with my other hand, and cracked my knuckles all at the same time. I pictured her at a fancy-ass restaurant, sitting across the table from some asshole attorney, which the guy had to be since all of Kyle’s friends were lawyers. She’d be smiling her smile that made me forget how to speak words.

I should be that guy. That smile was for me.

Fuck. If I couldn’t get in touch with her, maybe I could get the guy on the phone. Kyle owed me.

Me:The bourbon you gave me tastes like shit.

A meme jumped on the screen. “New phone, who dis?”

The three dots blinked by as Kyle continued typing.

Kyle:Fuck you. I don’t hear from you all week, and that’s what you open with?

Me:I need dude’s name and number.

Kyle:Sorry, can’t give it to you.

Me:U R an asshole.

Kyle:True.

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