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“The kind you don’t talk about.”
All the times I’d pressed her about what she did for a living. Now she was scaring me.
“Don’t look at me that way. It’s a great opportunity,” she insisted.
I thought about the business card Jameson had given me before he’d left.Carnal Sins.The black card had little else, but the name of the club in the center, his on the bottom, both embossed in gold. Then he’d penciled in the phone number of the person I was supposed to call on the back while insisting I provide mine. Which he’d programmed into his phone. When I’d hesitated before giving it to him, he’d reminded me he would need to call me about my poor little car.
“I don’t know,” I said, thinking about Jameson again.
“You’ll make a lot of money.” Her singsong voice continued to trouble me.
She’d alluded to being able to get me a job before and I’d declined because of my pride. Given the way Jameson had reacted to the condo, I was nervous for her, curious what she was really doing and who she was working for.
“Thanks, but there’s a chance I might have a job.” Jameson’s job offer came at the tail end of our time together, almost as an afterthought. I hadn’t told him how desperate I was, with barely enough money to grab a few groceries, but somehow, he’d known.
“Okay. Tell me more. Every little detail. I knew something else happened. My instinct is never wrong.” She poured two glasses of wine then took the spoon from my hand, digging into the ice cream. The way she moaned while taking the bite reminded of the few porn movies I’d seen over the years.
“I had a wreck coming home. Not my fault. Some fucking rich asshole T-boned me. This guy saved me from certain death. He even brought me home. Then he offered me a job. That’s pretty much it. I told you nothing else much happened today.”
The spoon was in midair as she turned her head toward me, her jaw dropping. “Excuse me?”
Laughing, I grabbed the glass of wine, leaving the ice cream for now and heading into the living room. The lights of Miami were beautiful at night, neon colors of cobalt blue, intense tangerine, and fuchsia creating a sinful backdrop for a city that partied until the wee hours of the morning. “It was a little crazy but all true.”
“Who is this guy?” She trailed behind me, moving to the couch and flopping down.
“He owns some club and he thought I might be a good fit.”
“What kind of club?” Her words were more biting than playful.
“I don’t know. He didn’t tell me anything about it.”
Snorting, she moved onto the edge of the seat. “There are several clubs in town you don’t want to have anything to do with, cuz. I’m serious. Bad people own them. They handle illegal activities behind closed doors. I think you know what I mean.”
She was only two years older but acted as if I was naïve as hell. I might be from Montana, but I read the news. I watched television. I knew Miami was considered an illegal drug hub and there were cartels in place to handle the billions of dollars in business. “I think he’s legit. Besides, he saved my life.”
“You don’t know anyone in this town. Men are slick fucks who believe women are tools and nothing more. Do you know his name?”
“Of course I do. I’m not stupid enough to consider going to work for a man without finding out who he is.” I’d planned on searching the internet, but on top of everything else crappy that had happened earlier, I’d forgotten my laptop charger was in the last bag I’d yet to bring into the building. I’d tried to get into her computer, but it was locked down tight.
“Then what do you know?”
I opened my mouth then frowned. “Okay, so I haven’t checked yet.” I yanked the card from my pocket, rubbing my finger across the lettering before handing it to her.
Charlotte scowled as she snapped it from my fingers. As soon as she glanced at the front, she whistled. “Holy fucking good fortune.”
“What? Do you know it?”
“You said this guy who saved you was the owner?”
“That’s what he told me. Jameson Stark.”
I thought for certain the poor girl was going to hyperventilate. She placed her wine on the table, jerked up and raced toward the bedrooms. What the hell was she doing? When she returned a couple of minutes later, she had her iPad in her hand, her finger bouncing across the screen furiously.
Then she handed it to me. “Is this the guy you met?”
I glanced at his picture first and my stomach started to do flips. Jameson was at some event, dozens of people in the background, champagne flowing. Dressed in a tuxedo, he was surrounded by women, the same glittering smile I’d seen more than once on his face. He was even more stunning than he’d been, his eyes holding the kind of fire that had attracted me to him in the first place.
“This is him? Answer me.”
