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Massimo chuckles. “That’s not the way I hear it.”
“I can assure you, I’m not acquainted with your sister-in-law.”
I am, of course, in a way that infuriates me. But that’s nothing I need to discuss with this asshole.
“Interesting. The way I hear it, you’re intimately acquainted with Camille.”
“I believe that’s what they call hearsay, Mr. Carveli.”
“We’re not in court, counselor,” he chuckles, reaching over to slap my knee. “Come on! We’re both men of the world! Cut from the same cloth!”
Like fuck we are.
He snorts a laugh. “I mean, it’s not like I’ve never wondered how tight that little French cunt is myself, eh?” He chuckles, leaning back on his couch. “So, please, put me out of my misery. Tell me how she was.”
A blackness creeps over me as that particular night comes crawling out of the dark hole I shoved it into.
I never slept with Camille LeBlanc. But not for lack of effort on her part.
“Like I said, Alistair, we’re the same. You don’t have to play coy with me,” he grins. “I’m not the me-too movement or the politically correct police. You’re like me. You saw something you wanted, and you took it.”
Bullshit. That’s not what happened. It’s more like she saw something she wanted, and tried to “take it”. My memory of that night might be a mess, but I know damn well I never touched Eloise’s psycho sister.
“I’m afraid you’ve been misled, Mr. Carveli,” I growl. “Nothing ever happened between me and Camille.”
He’s quiet a moment, a shadow crossing his face like he’s disappointed in me.
“Ahh, well…” He finally shrugs. “My mistake.”
Just then, the door to the private lounge opens and a stunning masked blonde woman wearing a sheer, almost see-through gold dress steps sensually into the room. I frown as she walks over to Massimo wordlessly, and my brow furrows even deeper when she curls her legs underneath her and sits at his feet.
What the fuck?
“Alistair, meet Gemma.”
I nod briefly as she smiles at me, and then twists to face Massimo.
…who suddenly undoes his belt, tugs his zipper down, and pulls out his fucking dick.
“Christ,” I grunt, looking away.
Massimo chuckles. “What’s wrong?” He grins, his eyes dropping to his erect, definitely below-average dick. “It’s not for you, counselor,” he snorts with a wide grin. “If that helps.”
“It doesn’t. What the fuck are you doing?”
“What people come to Club Venom to do.” He smirks. “If another man’s nakedness makes you that uncomfortable, maybe you need to ask yourself why, counselor.”
I roll my eyes. “My disinterest in seeing my clients with their dicks hanging out has nothing to do with my sexuality, Mr. Carveli.”
“Mr. Carveli seems a bit formal, given the present circumstances.” He grins. “How about we stick with Massimo, yes?” He points a finger at himself. “Massimo.” He turns the finger toward me. “Alistair. Like friends.”
“I’m your legal counsel, and you’re my client,” I grunt.
“Does that mean we can’t be friends?” Massimo reaches out and grabs a handful of Gemma’s hair. “Pull up your dress.”
Gemma, her ass to me, reaches back and tugs at her shimmery gold dress, confirming that she is not, indeed, wearing anything underneath it. Massimo grins.
“Feel free to join in?—”
