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“Ready to go?” Gio stops beside me.
“Sure. What’s in that section?” I point to the double door with card access. Perhaps he was an employee?
“It’s the private, members-only area.” Gio presses the call button. “Gym, pool, whiskey bar, bedrooms.”
“Bedrooms?”
He rolls his eyes and checks his phone. “Yes, bedrooms.”
“For members to nap?” I can’t believe what I think he’s telling me.
“Seriously, Lo, do I really need to spell it out for you?”
“Like a brothel?” Okay, the idea kind of thrills me.
“What the hell, Lo? It’s not the nineteenth century anymore. Exclusive escort services are included in the membership.”
I think he tells me because he knows I won’t be scandalized. And I’m not. I’m interested. “Do you use those? Oh, no, Jesus, TMI. Sorry. I don’t want to know you have sex.”
“Just shut up. Now.” He rolls his eyes and enters the elevator.
Just before the elevator closes, the private door across from me opens and Felicia Warren walks out. I almost put my foot between the sliding doors, but I freeze when I see who follows her.
My neighbor, Dominic fucking Cressard.
By the time we descend, a thousand scenarios roam through my mind, and several conflicting emotions flood my bloodstream. He was home when I was leaving, and he squeezed in a quickie while I had the shortest meeting in the history of billing lawyers?
And why do I care?
* * *
At the office I go through the motions, organizing my week so I can work from home and spend time with Dad. Normally, I would be packing for my annual adventure, so there aren’t many appointments to cancel or reschedule.
It still takes me an unreasonable amount of time, because my mind continues to disappoint me by remaining at the private floor of the Madison Club where the members bang.
Is Felicia a member? I’ve seen a few women there before and always assumed they were guests, but maybe there isn’t a rule against female members. Especially ones who wear pants, literally and figuratively.
A couple of hours later, I finally pack up everything and shuffle away. I take an Uber home. Maybe Gio or Massi would want to hire my driver.
When I step into my apartment, I bristle. I drop my purse and march through the living room, my heels echoing. This can’t be. I don’t have to see him to know he is here.
Dominic fucking Cressard is perched at my dining table, playing chess with my dad.
Chapter8
London
“What’s going on?” I try to keep my attitude under control for my dad’s benefit.
“Oh, darling, you’re back early. I ran into Dominic and he has been keeping me company. And beating me in chess.”
“You ran into him? How? When? You’re supposed to rest.” I feel like an intruder in my own house. Only minuscule remnants of sanity remind me I’m being ridiculous, but when have I ever listened? Especially not when annoyance blinds me.
Dominic rakes his gaze over me in his irritating, self-assured, seductive way. It doesn’t work. It doesn’t work. Now I’m lying to myself. Great.
“Your dad opened the door for a delivery and got dizzy.”
“Are you okay? What happened?” I dash to my dad and put the back of my hand on his forehead.
