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“I’ll head over as soon as I drop off this drink.”
Fuck.These men are losing their patience with me; Mr. Black said as much at our last meeting. It’s not as if I can snap my fingers and magically make the Genovese brothers appear, willing them to tell me all their secrets. These things take time, and that is a luxury I don’t have.
I saunter out of the bar and into the main lobby, dropping off the gin and tonic before making my way to the reception area near the front of the building.
Please let Lyra have some information for me today.
The moment I walked through those double doors on my first day of work, she knew my fictitious full name and where I was from. She even rattled off my new social security number when I stumbled while filling out my tax information before I started working here, without even batting an eyelash. I knew then that if anyone was going to discover what I was really doing here, it would be her. I tried to keep her at arm’s length, wanting to protect my secret, but quickly realized I needed her if I wanted any information about what went on in here.
Keep your eyes down and ears open. That was the first piece of advice Lyra gave me when I started working here, and I’ve taken it to heart. She’s worked at the front desk at the club for years, making her the one woman in this place that knows everything. It also helps that she loves to gossip. She’s a good ally to have in my back pocket. Unfortunately, she hasn’t had any news about the Genoveses.
“What’s up, chica?”
Lyra places her perfectly manicured finger to her mouth as she picks up the phone and presses it to her ear. Her green hair is piled high on the top of her head while she wore her signature bright-red-soled Manolo Blahniks, ensuring she towers over me and almost every other woman in this place. If I didn’t know better, I’d think she was trying to intimidate us, but she says she only wears them because they make her legs look fabulous. Tucking my tray under my arm, I wait patiently to get the gossip from the lady who knows it all.
Her brows pull down slightly as she flips through her book before scribbling something on the page and smiling brightly at me. “Yes, sir. We’ll have your room ready for you when you arrive.”
“I’ve been looking for you, CeCe.” Lyra quickly returns the phone to the cradle. “You have a room coming tonight.”
“A room? What does that mean?”
“You’re headed upstairs tonight.”
My breath hitches in my throat at the mention of upstairs. The upstairs to the club is off-limits unless specifically instructed by management. There have been whispers among the staff about what goes on up there, but we all know it’s where the magic happens.
“How did that happen?”
“Who knows, sweetheart.” Lyra smiles brightly before handing me a piece of paper. “But don’t ruin it. This is a chance to make some big bucks.”
I look down at the piece of paper.Genovese. Room twenty-three. 9:00 p.m.
“I’m late.” Forcing a smile to cover my nerves before handing the paper back to her.
“I said I was looking for you everywhere.” She takes the piece of paper, running it through a shredder before reaching under the desk and grabbing a pager. “But you aren’t late for anything. Each room has a beeper, and yours hasn’t gone off since the men arrived.”
“I don’t know how to use one of these things.” I giggle, taking the small device from her hands and turning it from side to side. “Who even uses these things anymore?”
“We do. Untraceable,” she deadpans, reminding me once again how dangerous this place can be.
Club Sin prides is self on providing anonymity for some rich and powerful men in the city of Chicago. Politicians, diplomats, movie stars, and the mafia only take up a small percentage of the clientele at Club Sin. Each one needs anonymity for different reasons. Our job here isn’t to ask questions, but to provide them with the best service possible.
“Are there any rules I need to know about?”
I vaguely remember them discussing the room during orientation, but they’d never asked me to waitress upstairs before today. This can’t be a coincidence. It was an unspoken rule that only the seasoned waitstaff was asked to go upstairs—no newbies allowed. The fact that I’m stepping foot up there tonight means someone pulled some strings and made it happen.
“When that pager vibrates, you stop what you’re doing and head to your room. No questions asked.” Lyra flashes a smile at someone over my shoulder before continuing, “You don’t enter a room unless asked by a guest or the light above the door is on. Each room is labeled clearly with a plaque on the door with the number.”
I nod my head, pulling my bottom lip between my teeth. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t fantasized about what’d it be like to be pressed between these men. Blood rushes through me like a river of fire, as images of being pressed facedown into an oversized bed flit through my head. Salvatore’s hands raking down my body as Antonio follows behind him, his lips pressing against my skin. Moisture pools between my legs as I think about the three of them, bending my body to their wills, wringing every bit of pleasure out of it before beginning the process all over again.
What the hell has gotten into me?
“Will I have to…” my voice trails off, not wanting to finish the sentence. My thighs press together in search of some much-needed friction.
“Not unless you want it to.” Her eyes twinkle, a mischievous smile crossing her face. “Don’t worry, CeCe. It’ll be worth it, promise. Besides, these men are gorgeous and great tippers, from what I hear. You won’t be disappointed.”
I open my mouth to ask more questions, but the phone rings, bringing our conversation to an end. “Go back to the bar and let them know management has assigned you to a room.”
Lyra shoos me away before grabbing the phone and greeting whoever is on the other end of the line. Turning on my heels, I make my way back to the bar in a lust-filled haze. I don’t know what is wrong with my libido, but I need to get it under control before heading into that room tonight. This is the perfect opportunity for me to get the information I need to save my sister.
