Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 102184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Adele answers me quickly, saying she’ll have the file on my desk by the end of the night. My attention travels back to Swan, and it’s hard not to watch as she services her tables. Her reaction the other night at the viewing room will forever haunt me. I can’t forget the image of her licking those plush pink lips when Mr. Jeffries got his wife off. Needless to say, I went home and thought about it a lot more while jerking off. I stop in my tracks when I realize I haven’t fucked my hand to thoughts of a specific woman since I was a teenager.
My eyes crash into Swan’s, and she stares innocently at me. Damn, if she only knew what I’m thinking right now. I head back up to my office in a rush, not wanting to deal with the Thorne twins, but knowing I need to get away from Swan.
Before I make it up the stairs, a call comes in from the front receptionist.
“What’s wrong?” I ask because she never calls me directly for anything. Usually, she goes through Adele, so if she’s calling me, we’ve got genuine problems at the entrance of the club.
“Detectives are here, wanting to ask you a few questions.”
I’m not surprised they’d come here. I’m sure they’re itching to get a glimpse of the inside of my club.
“I’ll be right there.”
No way will I give them that satisfaction. I turn around and head toward the waiting room just inside the main entrance. This room’s design prohibits anyone from walking straight into a full-on sex party. Not that there’s much action going on in the main area of the club, but you never know.
When I enter, a tall man and an exotic-looking woman with black hair immediately assess me.
“Mr. Huxley,” one detective says, holding out his hand for me to shake. “I’m Detective Finn Grant, and I have a few questions to ask you.”
They show me their badges, and I cross my arms over my chest as I study their names. “Ask away.”
The female detective—Geneva Hall—smiles, but it doesn’t reach her dark eyes. “Is there somewhere we can talk privately? An office?” She’s pushy, but I’m sure that’s a requirement to be a detective. Pushy. Asshole. Pegs you for a criminal without even talking to you.
“Right this way.” When Adele suggested we have an office by the main entrance of the club, I thought the idea was ludicrous. Now, however, I’m thrilled we turned a storage closet into an office space.
I open the office door and lead the two detectives inside. “How can I help you?” I ask, perching my ass against the wooden desk.
Grant and Hall stand shoulder to shoulder in the confined area. Both of their eyes bounce around the room, trying to gain as much information as they can. They won’t find much, aside from old files. This office isn’t really used too often.
“We just wanted to ask if you ever socialize with any of the Greedy Girls outside of work?”
“No, never.” And that's the God's honest truth. I never fuck the pussy employed here. Nor have I ever, even when I first opened the club and took part in many of the nightly activities.
“Not even to take them to dinner or anything similar?”
I shake my head. “I’ve never mixed business and pleasure. My non-fraternization policy is extremely strict. I won’t let my security detail date any of the Greedy Girls either.”
“You had no relations with Julie Landers?” Finn Grant glances at the little notepad in his hand. “Otherwise known as Ginger.”
“I know who she is,” I snap, because this fool thinks I’m unfamiliar with my own girls. “And no, I’ve had nothing outside of a professional relationship with Ginger.” I don’t tell him about the night she came to my office.
“Somebody mentioned she had a thing for you,” Finn says, challenging me with his shit-brown eyes.
I stand to my full height. “I’m sure many of the women who work here have a thing for me.” That’s not being cocky. I see the way they stare at me.
The way I wish Swan would stare at me.
“Do you know Benedict Cole?” Geneva asks.
“Heard of him,” I say, not wanting to give anything away.
“Is he a member here?” Finn asks.
I shrug. “I’d have to check my member’s list. I don’t have it memorized, sorry.”
“We’ll wait,” Geneva says, snapping her notepad shut and stuffing it into her back pocket.
“Have a warrant for it?” Having a sister who’s a lawyer sometimes pays off.
Finn holds his hands up as if he’s trying to break up a fight. “There’s no need for a warrant here. I’m sure you want to know who’s behind the murders as much as we do. Why don’t you just help us out? We don’t need to see your entire list. We just want to learn about Benedict Cole.”