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It’s a whole world away from my raven-haired Krasavitsa.
I never approached her that night. Much to my disappointment, work got in the way. By chance, I saw her sometime later, stepping into my exclusive club of all places.
Endeavors.
It may just be across the same dance floor as the bar, but behind those closed doors is a whole new world waiting to be discovered.
A high-end sex club.
One where we satisfy the customers' every desire, every fantasy.
I’ve always listened to the people closest to me who know how to make money, and while we skirt around the laws of prostitution with the guise of just being a high-end hotel, this business makes a shit-load of cash.
But my Krasavitsa being here?
My brow furrows as I follow her, going through the staff side entrance as she speaks with my club manager, Margaret.
She can’t be here to fuck. Surely. That in itself is ridiculous.
This is Endeavor. The most exclusive sex club in the city.
It’s discreet, but everyone knows why people come here.
What is my raven haired beauty up to?
She’s led into one of our private suites and I try not to pace.
When Margaret returns to the desk, she jolts in surprise.
“Mr. Petrov,” she says, recovering quickly.
“Good morning, Margaret,” I say, curtly.
“Sir, how can I be of assistance?”
She’s attractive. Gorgeous to many with her flawless skin and curvy body, but I never fuck my staff. Plus, I need their heads in the game. I get my fair share of being fawned over, but that shit gets old.
Margaret has never thrown herself at me, thank god, and she doesn’t give me puppy dog eyes. In fact, I’m sure she prefers the company of other women, but I can’t say for sure.
“That woman.” I nod to the room. “Who is she?”
“Uh.” She shuffles the paperwork and then adjusts her glasses. “Her name is Imogen Anderson, Sir. She was referred to the club by Ariana Bentley.”
Bentley?
Lukas Bentley.
He’s a friend of mine and a shareholder in the club.
Ariana must be Lukas Bentley’s wife.
I was away on business and couldn’t attend the wedding last year.
“And she’s… perusing the menu?” There are no other words for it.
She blinks once. Twice. Then, “Yes, Sir.”
My lips twitch.
