“So, I sell myself. Maybe not here, but in the long run. Eventually they hope to wear me down and get me to agree tosleep with them?” I’m a smart woman, like he said. Men don’t just help young women unless they’re getting something in return.
“What happens outside of Kismet is not my business. While you’re here, you work for me, that’s it. If you choose to pursue a relationship outside these walls, that’s between two consenting adults. My work involves connecting intelligent, stunning women with men who value respect. I have a strict no-tolerance policy for anyone who disrespects my employees, current or former.” Mr. Rossi folds his hands in front of him. “It’s your choice. You can walk away at any time if you decide this isn’t for you. I think you’ll learn quickly why those who work for me become successful once they move on.”
I lean forward when he passes me a slip of paper with a number that has several zeros behind it. “That is what you’ll make each night you work. Everyone starts at the front desk. Once you’ve proven yourself to me and our clientele, you’ll be moved to one of our themed areas. If you get sponsored, it will happen sooner.”
I remember him telling me earlier men sponsor those who catch their eyes, those they wish to keep them company. I don’t care if I ever acquire a sponsor. With this money, I can get a decent apartment—somewhere with updated appliances and big windows—and eat well, too.
“I think I’d like to give it a shot.”
“Welcome aboard, Miss Lennox. I know you’re going to be very happy here.” Mr. Rossi hands me a pen. “We’ll keep this as a cash transaction until you secure the proper visa. I’ll help you do that as well.”
My hand shakes as I sign on the dotted line.
Why do I feel like there’s something he’s not telling me?
Chapter 12
Darius
My plane arrived in New York City a couple of hours ago. Another assignment. Another paycheck. Most of my jobs are simple—watch, dig up information, report back. My clients pay me well to notice what others miss. This time the subject is an investor. The man who hired me believes someone is selling his company secrets. The design is simple: a sting that will ensnare both the traitor and the buyer and deliver our findings quietly to the SEC.
This visit affords me the opportunity to check in on Ingrid and see if she needs anything. We’ve talked almost daily since I was called away for business. I understand she’s skeptical of me. Doubts my interest in her. I blame her father for that.
Okay, maybe not completely, but he holds a great deal of the blame.
My reputation as a playboy doesn’t do me any favors. I know she’s googled me, probably more than she’d admit. If she’s searched hard enough, then she’ll see it. The truth. I don’t date. Never have. I drift. Keep things light and open. Nothing serious.
The man she’s read about in the headlines isn’t the man I am now. Proving it’s going to be a bitch. I was that man. Slept around. Partied. Didn’t care. But I grew bored, grew up, and threw myself into this business. My time isn’t wasted on that crap now. I never cared what anyone thought. Never had to explain myself.
Ingrid changed that. I want her trust. Want her to see I won’t stray. To know I’m not like the other men who’ve failed her. All she’s known is betrayal. Wilson. Her Father. They squandered her trust. She deserves far better.
While I was away, I kept my head down. No press. No scandals. Just the job. Nothing she could twist into doubt and misinterpret.
Until tonight, that is. Most people don’t even know about Kismet. Guilt runs through me the second I step inside Jack Rossi’s place. Being here feels wrong. He’s maintaining the club’s reputation. Kept things on the up and up. But the hush hanging in the air—it’s heavy with secrets. His clients pay a premium for privacy. Which begs the question—why?
Is it shady? Yes.
Jack runs a respectable business; illegal activity is strictly forbidden.
Does that mean it doesn’t happen? No.
Get caught, and you’re done. Banned for life. No questions or second chances. Jack commands respect, ensuring all dealings within remain professional and precise. No money exchanges hands inside these walls. What happens off his property isn’t his problem.
I came early tonight to see Jack and give him a heads-up. The man I’m tracking is a member. I’ll try to speak with him. He’ll likely turn me away, shut me down quickly. If that’s the case, I have an idea I want to run by Jack. He won’t like it. Might not agree. But he owes me. And I’m ready to cash in.
Jack’s waiting for me at the backdoor. “I already know I’m not gonna like this.”
I shake his hand when he offers it. “Because you know me well. Let’s go into your office. See if we can come to some sort of agreement.”
He leads the way, cursing under his breath the entire time. My explanation, which took around thirty minutes, is met with grunts and glares from him.
“Fucking hell. You know I hate blokes like that.” He grumbles and throws back his scotch. “I trust you, even though I despise everything about this plan of yours. Let’s pray it doesn’t come down to that, and I can repay you another time.”
“I’ll do everything I can to keep it out of the club, but…” I laugh when he lifts his hand, not wanting to hear more.
“The less I know, the better.” A wicked smile touches his lips as he checks the time. “I need to make the rounds. A new girl started tonight. I’m interested in hearing what a few of my patrons think of her. I’m guessing she won’t last more than a few nights at the front desk before one of them shows interest.”
It’s my turn to grunt. “You enjoy your job way more than you should. Don’t you tire of introducing nice ladies to a bunch of corrupt arse hats?”
