Alexandra’s stomach roiled. That bastard never forgotanything,including his deep-seated grudge againsther.
“Budgets are tight, but this sounds like a decent stop-gap,” he continued. “I heard Max balked at the idea, but with ratings in the crapper, he’s got no choice. Someone from their station will contactyou.”
“Thanks foreverything.”
“How’s your momdoing?”
“She’s afighter.”
“I hope she makes a speedyrecovery.”
She ended the call and crumpled onto the musty-smelling sofa. Her throat tightened, tears swimming in her eyes.Nocrying.
She steeled her spine and sent texts to a few close friends. When her phone didn’t bing with a reply, she flipped on the television, channel surfed, then clicked it off. Deafening silence surrounded her.I can’t take one more night alone.With phone in hand, she tapped the Provocateur app and logged in. After scrolling through her private messages, she tapped the one markedIncognito.
Dear Ms.Electra,
Thank you for contacting us. We welcome members ofProvocateur.
I can reprogram your Silver Towers passkey remotely, so you can gain access to our club at your convenience. We open at five. Your first connection is on the house. For a fee, we’ll transfer your membership from Provocateur so you can enjoy the privileges of your elite member status atIncognito.
Once you enter the parking garage, follow the signs for “Private Club” and park near the elevator marked “Private”.
Meilleuressalutations,
Francois
Assistant to the GeneralManager
Incognito, A Silver TowersCompany
Alexandra had one vice. One dirty, deliciously naughty habit and her best-kept secret. For the past year, she’d been a member of Provocateur, an exclusive sex club in LA, where she lived out her wildest fantasies with masked strangers. Lucky for her, Provocateur had a sister club just outsideDC.
The thought of hooking up with a senator or ambassador made her smile. Hell, she’d even screw a regular guy. She wanted to feel his hard flesh sink inside her and melt her thoughts into oblivion. Her insides clenched inanticipation.
She trotted up the stairs and into her shoebox-sized bedroom with rickety furniture that looked like it had been purchased at a flea market. The drab furnishings were a sharp contrast to her sunny and spacious bedroom in California. After flinging open her closet door, she toed off her flats, peeled off her sweater and skinny jeans, and slipped into a black halter dress with matching stilettos. She shaded her lids in a smoky gray, ran a thick layer of eyeliner over that, then layered on mascara. A dab of lip gloss before hiding her long brown hair beneath a shoulder-length platinum blonde wig. She finger-fluffed her bangs and smiled at herreflection.
“Hello, Electra.” Her fake southern accent rolled off her tongue. “Playtime.”
Her body warmed at thethought.
She selected a gold masquerade mask from her bureau drawer, threw on her coat, and left under the cover ofdarkness.
Fifteen minutes later, she arrived in Crystal City, home to several hotels, dozens of restaurants, and a slew of high-rise condos. But the majority of the towering cement structures housed office space, which went silent after five o’clock when employees filed home like dutifulants.
Alexandra’s mouth went dry. Though excited to check out the club, apprehension tugged at her gut. Would the clientele be to her liking? What amenities did Incognito offer? Would she be able to play anonymously? It wasn’t just her reputation she needed to protect. She was a Mitus and in this part of the country, that name was worth its weight ingold.
As instructed, she entered the deserted underground garage and parked near the lone elevator labeled “Private”. Seven o’clock. If Incognito were anything like Provocateur, the club wouldn’t come alive until after ten.Maybe Washington elite are early fuckers. With an amused smile, she tied on her mask and exited the Prius Colton had leased for her. Shivering from the biting December cold, she pulled the charcoal-colored Silver Towers keycard from her wallet and hurried toward theelevator.
She held the plastic card against the sensor on the wall. The lightshouldhave turned green and the elevatorshouldhave opened, but the indicator remained red. She tried again, but nothing happened.Dammit.
Her breath clouded and evaporated into the cold air as she dug out her phone. Francois hadn’t provided a phone number, so all she could do was message him, then freeze to death while she waited for areply.
“Screw this.” She spun around and bumped into an attractive older man, a black leather mask framing hiseyes.
His hollow laugh startled her. “With pleasure,” hereplied.
“Why, pardon me.” Her faux southern drawl oozed from her lips. “My momma always said I should look before I leap. She sure wasright.”
