I shake the emotion out of my head. I have to be rational.
Harrison is at full liberty to take whomever he wants to bed. As am I.
It’s silly that I’m even considering him right now.
I’ve slept with men far uglier than Cale Calloway, and for a lot less. Usually my rate is fixed around a thousand. Sometimes some of the ritzier men offer up to three or four K.
And it’s not as if I can’t put the money to good use.
This kind of money could go into a retirement fund, into a savings account for a down payment on a mortgage.
I can still go out and socialize with Harrison when it’s all over. The night is young, and I’ll be expected to clean myself up and continue my sets once I’m done with Calloway.
I slump my shoulders. I know the answer.
“Fine, I’ll do it.”
Rouge bounces her eyebrows and rises. “I thought you might reconsider.”
I sit down on a pink chaise across from my mirror. “You can tell him… Just tell him he can meet me in here.”
Rouge tents her fingers and frowns. “Actually, Mr. Calloway has requested the pleasure of your company in one of our private areas behind the velvet curtains.”
I wrinkle my forehead. “What? Why? I always take clients in my dressing room.” I gesture to a door that leads to a small bedroom and en suite bathroom. “You had the extra bedroom added to my area just for that purpose.”
“Mr. Calloway has specifically booked the grand suite.”
“But that’s where the cards take clients.” I wrinkle my nose. “That bed must be filthy.”
“The sheets are cleaned after every encounter, as you well know. And the mattress is replaced biweekly. You’ll be fine.”
“But why? Wouldn’t he be much more comfortable in my private suite?”
“It’s not my place to question my guests’ wants and needs, Bianca.”
“But—”
She holds up a hand again. “Bianca, you are more than welcome to turn down the offer. You know how much we value full and enthusiastic consent here at Aces. Mr. Calloway will survive if he is denied the privilege of your entertainment.”
I stifle an eye roll. He’s ninety. A good stiff wind could kill him.
And I know why he wants to take me behind the velvet curtains, as opposed to my dressing room. He wants all of his buddies in the club to see him escort me to the grand suite. It won’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what we’re doing in there.
I twiddle my thumbs. “Is there any way he’d consider coming to my dressing room, perhaps for a slight decrease in the rate? I would prefer not to go to the suite.”
“Why does that matter? You’ve taken guests behind the curtains before. I understand you preferring your private quarters, but it’s not as if it’s completely foreign to you. Unless…” She raises an eyebrow. “Unless there is someone in the club tonight who you’d prefer not see you escorted away.”
Bingo. My sister is ruthless. And fucking brilliant.
I blink for a few seconds. “That’s preposterous. Why the hell would I care who sees?—”
She takes a step toward me. “So then you’ll agree to the grand suite? For ten thousand?”
I sigh. “Are you sure Calloway wouldn’t settle for a different deal?”
“Mr. Calloway, and no, he won’t. The offer is resolute. It’s the grand suite for ten K or no deal.”
I run my hands over my hair. Think about what I’m getting myself into. Seeing Calloway’s wrinkled, naked body. Watching him take a fistful of boner pills before pumping himself into me.
