AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I scan the club, taking it all in one final time. Once I talk to Roman and walk out tonight, it'll be for the last time. This place has been something like a home to me for the last six months. Without it, all I'd have done is sit at home and stare at the fucking walls. I'll miss the companionship that comes with being surrounded by people who know what it's like to want something society deems forbidden.
But I've gotta stop fucking torturing myself, and that's all this place has become lately. One long, endless headache. My dream girl isn't here. She'll never be here.
And I can't watch another Lucas Bordeaux fuck before I snap.
I stand there for several long moments, just watching everyone in the bar below before Roman steps up beside me, dressed in a suit and gold tie, a smirk dancing on his lips.
"If I didn't know better, I'd say your kink was watching," he says, leaning on the banister.
"If that were the case, this isn't where I'd pick to do it." There are rooms in this club designed specifically for voyeurism, which Roman knows since he designed the damn place. The only thing anyone will see from here is the negotiations happening in one of the bars below.
He chuckles, watching me from the corner of his eye. "Saw you handle the situation with Lucas Bordeaux. Thanks for that," he murmurs. "I don't know why the fuck I approved his membership."
"He may surprise you and get his shit together."
Roman snorts like he thinks hell will freeze over before that happens. He's probably right. Bordeaux was born an idiot and will die an idiot. He made his millions because he happened to get lucky.
"The only thing about Lucas Bordeaux that surprises me is the fact that he's able to get it up at all with all the fucking coke running through his system."
"You didn't drug test him before you approved his membership?" I arch a brow, surprised. Roman requires everyone who seeks membership here to submit to drug testing. Anyone who can't pass doesn't get in. It's a safety precaution.
In a place like this, the last thing you want is someone not in control of their own mental faculties coming through the doors. Safe, sane, and consensual is the name of the game. People like that are a liability in situations like this for a whole host of reasons—they're unpredictable and volatile, and if they're shooting up, they may be exposing others to things they aren't even aware they're carrying. When the men who come through these doors are billionaires, the last thing Roman can afford is a scandal like that.
"Of course, I drug-tested him." Roman shoots me a look that tells me not to be an idiot. "He was clean. I guarantee he won't be when I surprise test him before he leaves here tonight."
"Well, that'll be your problem."
"Goddamn, Micah." He sighs, not needing me to spell it out for him. "Had a feeling you were on your way out when I saw your ass out here. You had a look. I kind of fucking hoped I was wrong, though."
"I can't keep doing this shit." I scrub a hand down my face. "What I want isn't here."
Roman sighs again. "You can stop paying, but I'm not revoking your membership."
"I won't use it."
"Doesn't matter. It's still yours."
I cut my eyes at him. "Anyone ever tell you that you're a stubborn son of a bitch?"
"A few times." He shrugs, shooting me a smirk. "But guess what? I own this motherfucker. That means I get to do whatever the fuck I want."
I chuckle, shaking my head. "You're lucky I like you or I'd stop making you so goddamn much money." I'm a financial analyst. He runs this place, and I keep his pockets flush on the side by helping oversee his investment portfolio.
"No, you wouldn't. You're too good at it." His grin widens. "Seriously, though. Use your membership. Don't use it. Either way, it's still yours. I'm not canceling it."
I shake my head, not surprised. Roman does what Roman wants, exactly like he said. This is his club. He makes the rules. I glance back down at the bar, watching as a brunette tries to shove her hand down Les Anderson's pants.
"You ever get tired of watching people fuck?"
His loud laugh bounces off the ceiling. "Every fucking day. Why do you think I spend half my time up here with my wife instead of down there? Parts of it are erotic, but voyeurism isn't my kink. Maybe it's enjoyable for those who get off on it, but it's all just poles in holes after a while."
"Jesus Christ."
"You asked," he reminds me.
"Yeah, I guess I—" I freeze, my gaze caught on a young couple walking into the main bar from the hallway. The man is maybe twenty-nine or thirty, his blond hair slicked back into a neat bun. His stylish purple suit accentuates his muscular frame and broad shoulders. A mischievous grin plays across his lips as he turns back to say something to the woman a few steps behind him.
As soon as my gaze lands on her, the rest of the world falls away. I haven't seen her in two years, but she's haunted me every fucking moment since that day on campus. There is no mistaking her. She's burned into my memory, every delectable inch of her seared into my gray matter like a brand.
