Page 74 of Beneath the Blindfold

“Yeah.” It felt weird not to ask. “How about you guys?”

“Yes,” he answered. “Very much.”

My heartbeat was beginning to slow, but I was still struggling to get a handle on my breathing, and as I peered at her, all glowing and flushed, the question just popped out of my mouth. “Did I live up to your fantasy, Noemi?”

I wasn’t fishing for validation, but she laughed softly and shook her head. As if what I’d just asked was ridiculous. “No,” she said. “You exceeded it.”

Warmth flooded my chest. “Good.” I wasn’t sure what else to say. “That’s good.”

“Would you like to do it again some time?” he asked.

What? Confusion washed through me. He’d said it was a one-time thing.

Joseph’s expression was cryptic. “Not with us, but with someone else.”

“Who?”

He delivered that faint smile. “I have a friend who owns a club. It’s private and exclusive, offering a special kind of experience. It’s where beautiful people sell their submission for the night.”

I stared at him, not quite processing it.

“Currently,” he pressed on, “the club only sells experiences with women, but I’d be happy to put you in touch with the owner. He might want to expand his business.”

“You’re saying—what? I’d get paid to do what we just did?”

Noemi snuggled into the crook of his neck. “I’d be happy to give you a recommendation.”

“We both would,” he added. “You don’t have to answer right now. Take some time to think about it. Although, I’m doubting you’ll need it.”

I swallowed a breath. “Because you’re so good at reading people?”

He grinned. “You’re going to say yes.”

I couldn’t stop the smile that spread across my face.

He was so right.

* * *

SAY IT FIRST

This story originally appeared in MIXTAPE: A Love Story Anthology and is best read after THREE GUILTY PLEASURES, book 6 in the series.

ONE

Anna

I left my agent’s office with an assignment—choose my next role so he could give both studios an answer tomorrow.

Anxiety poured into my stomach as I rode the elevator down to the lobby. My last movie had opened big, but I was still at a precarious stage in my career. If I didn’t line up a good project, I’d risk fading into obscurity, and taking a wrong step wasn’t an option.

A distracting Facebook notification leaped onto the lock screen of my phone. Someone had mentioned me, Annalise Shrader, in a comment. Which was strange. I’d been going by Anna Douglas ever since I moved to LA, and it was weird seeing my OG name.

My profile was set to private, and I didn’t post—it was only to keep up with my relatives and stay connected. So who was this Samantha Hidenrite who’d tagged me?

I pulled the app open as I strolled off the elevator and headed for the exit, only to slow to a stop. Her profile picture, even as the small icon, was familiar, and the group where she’d posted her comment made it click into place.

Philpot High School - 10 Years Later,the banner across the top read.

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