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“I’m interested in—” I clear my throat, wondering if it’s bad manners to not know the name of the girl I want a session with. But howwouldI know, exactly? It’s not as if they have a menu posted.”
She smiles at me and hands me a leather folio. “Here. You can sit over there if you want a moment to look at the options.”
“I—uh—” I open the folio, feeling awkward as hell. It feels wrong, choosing a woman to spend a night with out of a folder. Ordering dinner at a fine restaurant is more personal than this. No matter how much the dark-haired woman stuck in my mind, I think I’d be walking out right now if it wasn’t for the mission I’ve set myself on. This is stranger than anything I’ve ever done.”
Hell, I’m almost considering finding a different means of getting dirt on Matvei when I look at the first page and realize, to my relief, that the woman I saw is the very first photo. She looks just as stunning there—rich black hair rippling around her face, those wide dark eyes, red lips curved in a smirk. Her name is under the photo.
Asha.
“Her.” I point to it, feeling even more idiotic than before. “Asha.” It’s a beautiful name.It’s not her real name, I remind myself, pushing the folio back towards the blonde woman. “She’s who I came to see. If she has—”
“Space in her schedule?” The woman—I seeCallieprinted on the gold name tag on her blazer—smiles at me as if she’s used to this. Maybe she is. It’s all so businesslike; I’m having a hard time imagining sex at the end of it. This situation and the writhing, panting woman I saw on the stage seem to exist in entirely different universes. “Let me see. You’re wanting to book her tonight?”
I nod. Price hasn’t been mentioned—for which I’m grateful—but it also boggles the mind a little to imagine walking in here without a care in the world as to how much they’re going to charge my credit card for. Thankfully, the one I’m using isn’tmycredit card, it’s the one that I’ve been entrusted with for Kings’ business, which this is. Equally as fortunate is the fact that even if this doesn’t pan out and Theo eventually finds out what I tried to do, he won’t be pissed at me for using funds this way. He’d probably find it amusing, honestly.
But I don’t want him to be amused. I want him to know I’m trustworthy. Smart. Capable of handing the responsibility he’s given me. Which means I’m desperately hoping Asha is the lead I think she is.
“How long do these sessions usually go for?”
“Depends on the client.” Callie has that same unmoving, pleasant smile on her face still. “The typical length is one to two hours. Longer sessions can be arranged, but Asha usually is too booked to accommodate that, except for very regular clients.”
I’m getting the impression that she’s in high demand, which doesn’t surprise me in the least. It makes me wonder if anything about Matvei’s win was engineered by Nikolai, to get him in the same room with this Asha, for the same reasons I’m thinking. It wouldn’t be the first time he tried some sort of machination like that to achieve his ends.
A bit hypocritical to think of it like that, aye?I ask myself wryly as I glance at Callie. “Two hours should be fine. Thank you.”
“Of course.” She turns to the tablet in front of her, opening a window with a few strokes of her fingers. “And a card we can keep on file for you?”
I hand her the card, and she swipes it before handing it back. “Do you have a preference for Asha tonight?”
I’m not entirely sure what she’s asking. I assume she means for lingerie, maybe, or specific makeup—a particular look or fantasy I might want her to play into. “Whatever she prefers is fine,” I tell Callie, and she nods.
“Very good. I’ll note that.” She looks at the tablet again, her voice as polite and smooth as ever. “Asha will be notified to meet you at the bar when she’s ready for you.”
It’s exactly like checking into a hotel room or making a dinner reservation, and I find the entire process bizarre. It doesn’t feel any less bizarre when she gives me two heavy black tokens for the bar for my drinks, and motions to the door. “Enjoy your evening at the Ashen Rose, Mr. O’Sullivan.”
The main floor is quieter than it was the night of the poker game. There’s a handful of guests at the bar, but I imagine most of them are upstairs with the girl they’ve chosen for the night. There’s a dancer on the stage where Asha performed for the game, swaying to the soft beat of the music pulsing through the air, and a few other girls walking around in various lingerie, speaking quietly to guests. There’s nothing raucous or loud about it. Everything has an air of sophistication and elegance, right down to the twisting mahogany staircase that leads to the floor upstairs, where I’m pretty sure the private rooms are.
And if my guess is correct, based on what Callie said, Asha is up there with someone right now.
There’s that jealous twist in my gut again as I hand the bartender one of the tokens and ask for a whiskey straight, and it makes me feel like an utter fool. I’m at a place where sex is bought and paid for, jealous over another paying customer’s hands on one of the girls, a girl whose name I learned ten minutes ago. But the feeling remains, settled inside of me like a bothersome itch, nagging at me as I take the whiskey with a thanks and settle back in one of the leather stools, watching the room.
It’s not nearly as entertaining of people-watching as I’d normally expect. The guests who haven’t gone up to a room yet are either conversing at the bar—I think this place might double as an exclusive, private meeting spot for those who need a neutral place to conduct business that also has the best eye-candy of any place to get drinks—or are sitting on one of the various velvet or leather seats scattered in nooks around the main floor, a girl in their laps or talking to them. A handful of men are sitting near the stage, drinking and watching the tall, gorgeous redhead currently swaying against the gilded pole in the center of it. There’s an air of luxury and refinement that makes me feel decidedly out of place, and also makes me wish I’d worn that suit after all.
I’m almost finished with my second whiskey when a smooth, feminine voice comes from a foot or so away. It’s not light or musical, but warm with a bit of a rasp—not unlike the whiskey I’ve been sipping. I know it’s her before I turn towards her, the sound of that voice saying my name making my cock twitch instantly.
“Finn O’Sullivan?”
Christ, she’s even more gorgeous up close. She’s wearing a long black silk robe, the collar open over her collarbones and her cleavage without giving me even a hint of the curve of her breasts, the wide sleeves resting on narrow wrists, the belt cinched around a waist that begs for a man to put his hands on it. I can see absolutely nothing of her body and only a little of her figure, and somehow even that—just the sight of her swathed in black silk with her hair tumbling down over her shoulders and those red-painted lips making the shape of my name—is enough to have me half-hard sitting there.
“That’s me.” I toss back the rest of my whiskey—fuck, I’m going to need it—and stand up as best as I’m able with the beginnings of an erection pressed against my fly. “Callie said you’d find me when you were ready?”
“I did, and I am.” She smiles, perfect white teeth behind that smile. “Come with me, Finn.”
God, the way she says my fucking name. It feels like magic, like the burn of whiskey and the sweetness of dessert, melted sugar over my skin as she invites me upstairs with her. I can see why a man would hand over a credit card without bothering to ask a price. My mind is already racing with ideas of what might happen upstairs as I follow her to the stairs, my cock rapidly hardening to the point of discomfort.
You’re here to ask her questions, not necessarily fuck her,I remind myself—but the truth is that I don’t really have the slightest idea how any of this goes. I don’t know what’s going to happen when she gets me alone, and the endless possibilities have me as achingly hard as anything else.
Asha leads me to a room at the end of the hall, opening a door, and stepping inside. “My safeword is pearl,” she tells me as she closes the door, leading me further into the room. “Callie didn’t tell me that you’d noted one down.”
