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“Touché. Speaking of...” Justice pushes up from behind her desk and sinks into the couch next to me. “Time for Christmas gifts.”
The tablet in my hand is swiftly replaced with my friend’s hand. “Wait, what?”
Justice turns to me, and we face each other. “Gifts? I don’t have mine for you given it’s only November. Christmas is like five weeks away. Don’t we have a pact to panic shop a week before?”
“Yes, but this is an exception. I have mine for you. Open it!” Justice reaches around the side of the couch and pulls out a silver box with a sparkly red ribbon and places it on my lap.
“This isn’t a fruitcake or something is it?” I tug at the ribbon and when it falls to the side, I lift the lid to find nothing remotely close to fruitcake.
I pick up an elegant white envelope with gold embossed letters that spell out Club Sin in raised letters.
Nerves cause my fingers to tremble over the fine paper. Though I never dared step foot inside the atrociously expensive and elite adult club, the rumors have always piqued my interest. Membership for unconnected people like myself comes with a hefty price tag that hits five figures easily, so I didn’t follow through with my curiosities.
“Justice,” I say tentatively. “What have you done?”
She takes the box and taps my hands impatiently. “Open the envelope already, silly woman!”
Fear of what I know I’ll find inside makes me drag in a harsh breath. But I slide the slip of thick paper from its encasing and peel open the folded sides. It takes me three times to read the invitation before the words sink in fully.
In elegant swirls of flourishing black ink, the words read:
You have been given the gift of desire this Christmas.
The brave of heart need only accept.
Should you count yourself among this elite group, arrive promptly at eight on the night of November 5th at the red door to live out your most daring fantasies and darkest desires. May your every wish come true this holiday season.
Welcome to Club Sin.
The air seizes in my lungs. I look at the date again. Tonight? “You’re kidding.” The cost of this invitation...my head spins. “You have to be sleep-deprived, Justice. Tell me you didn’t just spend ten thousand dollars on me.”
“It was a bit more than that and you are worth every penny and more.”
Justice wears a smile of pure bliss, and for a minute I think she’s lost it. All those sleepless nights must have messed with her head.
She bats a hand in the air. “That’s not important; what is though is you calling the number at the bottom and accepting your reservation. Or I’ll do it for you.” She pats me on the leg. “Either way, this is happening.”
I’m already on my feet and across the spacious office. I look out over the throng of tiny people milling along the streets twenty floors below us and then back at my tablet. “There’s way too much to do for me to spend time on fantasies and whatever else my brain can cook up about what goes on inside those walls.”
I don’t date all that much. The last time I did it landed me in hot water with an overzealous stalker who couldn’t take being stood up, I guess. Not that I meant to leave him hanging, I just freaked out about meeting a stranger for drinks and couldn’t force myself to follow through with the date. After that I scratched my one foray into dating apps and deleted my profile. There were a few double dates before I turned partner, but every single one never returned my calls nor cared for a second date.
Never mind the voice screaming in the back of my mind that none of them stand up to Atlas, Ryder, or Brogan.
Sad, but true. Braving uncharted dating territory just isn’t my thing. After becoming a partner, everything outside of work dried up except the persistent asshole who keeps me triple checking my locks at night and changing my number every other week.
The pain of rejection, no matter how hard I try, never leaves my heart.
“I don’t know, Justice.” I bite at my nail and seriously consider burning the invitation in my hand in a nearby wastebasket.
“Look.” Justice joins me and places her hands on my shoulders. “Let’s get real for a second, okay. Sex. Hot, glorious, bona fide kinky sex happens inside those walls and you and I both know you need it. Or risk having a cold and lonely holiday. I don’t want that for my friend. Not when something can be done about it.”
I huff a laugh recalling how she hooked up with her trio of men. “It’s a little ironic, don’t you think? Me going to a club to get some given how you met your men auctioning off your virginity.”
Justice arches a perfectly shaped brow. “Life’s little ironic jokes. I love it!”
But I’m already shaking my head with the perfect excuse. “We have four contracts, two mergers and one of the clients wants a few hours of our time. It will take forever with us both working eighteen-hour days as is. I can’t afford days off.”
“And that is exactly why you need this. Being a partner comes with perks. Like taking time off without permission. Mergers and clients are not going anywhere.”
As if the Universe is finally working with me, my phone pings, and I silently hope it’s a dumpster fire that requires us to work endless hours to resolve. Justice grabs my phone from where I left it on the corner of the desk before I can.
“See, work work work.” Justice peers at the screen and I cringe and keep the lump in my throat from choking me. While I hope for a raging fire of one kind, I know it’s not. No one with any sense calls before seven in the morning, so it could only be one person.
“Blocked caller?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
She nods and confirms my suspensions. Fuck.
“Are you still getting messages from this asshole? How many phone numbers have you changed already because of this?”
“I’ve lost count. It started up again last night. The messages went from thinking about you heart emoji to close-up dick pics in the span of an hour. He’s not even all that impressive either. He keeps finding my number. I don’t know how. And the random weekly flowers sitting outside my apartment building freaks me out. I’m scared.”
“What do the detectives say? Any news there?”
At that moment all I want to do is pick up a phone and call Brogan or Ryder. Atlas too. They would know what to do, but that isn’t gonna happen.
“I wish. What can they say or do with no name, number, or anything to go on? The dating profile is all gone if it was real to begin with. I report the incoming phone number, they jot it down, but it’s a burner phone. Untraceable. I change my number and he finds it two weeks later. How, I don’t have a clue. I’m close to ditching phones altogether. I’ve already suspended all my social media accounts because of this crap.” And the reason I want to lock myself in my apartment for the holidays, but I keep that tidbit to myself. It’s the only way I can see getting any peace if only short-lived.
“Have your men found anything?” It’s a long shot but I ask anyway.
“Nothing yet, sweetie, but I promise Jacob and Seth have not stopped looking for answers. Whoever this is, he’s crafty and knows how to hide his digital tracks. But we’ll catch him.”
I’m no mastermind lawyer, cop, or detective but it’s going to take something big for my stalker to actually come out of whatever wormhole he’s hiding in.
Justice picks up the phone and snatches the paper from my fingers.
“Wait, what are you doing?”
“Making sure you have some fun. Safe fun. There are three problems you have, my friend— getting laid, hung up on old loves, and the need for good sleep. This knocks all three out of the ballpark.”
“You’re not my boss anymore. I can argue with you on this, you know.”
Mischief lights her eyes. “You could. But I’d still win. Besides, payment has been made and it’s nonrefundable.”
Justice holds up a finger.
“Yes, I’d like to confirm the reservation for Ms. Kandy Lockhart. Yes. Eight this evening. Room one.” Satisfied with herself Justice returns the phone to its cradle.
“Why is it so expensive? Does every room come with the same price tag?”
“No clue. All I know is they dropped that price tag on me to get you in. Maybe it depends on what your needs are. I do know reservations are like gold. Hard to dig up and once found they turn into dreams coming true. Once in the room—by the way, I took care to pick the right one just for you—you’ll need extra time, so I made sure you have that, and I made sure to claim a reservation for a second date.”
I almost choke on my tongue. “Second? I don’t even know if I’ll take the first.”
“You will. What other plans do you have for Christmas Eve? Besides, non-refundable, remember?”
“Are you blackmailing me?”
“Yep.” Justice pulls fresh strawberries from a small fridge tucked out of sight and we settle on the couch again.
“I haven’t had a man’s touch since the night they rejected me, Justice. I don’t know if I can do this. And with complete strangers,” I say honestly.
My friend pops a red berry into her mouth and considers me for a moment. “You have a few hours to get in the right headspace. Trust me when I say tonight will meet every expectation you have of finally taking a man and then some.”
Trust isn’t something I give freely. But I do trust Justice. She always has my back and I have hers.
“You can do this. Once you break through the fear barrier in here,” she taps the side of my head. “You’ll find a side of yourself you’ve never known. It was that way with me and the men. When I sold myself at auction with the hopes of trying to move on from the very men I ended up with, I never dreamed it would actually put me right where I needed to be. You can find that same level of happiness too. Life is more than sliding away to your castle and being lonely.”
Talk about nailing down my life in a nutshell. “I’m happy for you, babe. I just don’t hold any high expectations of happily-ever-after happening for me.”
I’ve tried so many times to move on. I doubt this plan will work. I’ll probably chicken out at the eleventh hour. But Justice isn’t listening.
Over her shoulder I notice the bleak morning I hoped would turn sunny is showing signs of snow instead and I shiver at the idea of going home alone. Again. Maybe it’s me with the problem. Would it be such a bad idea to add a little warmth to my cold, colorless life?
