Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 79253 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79253 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Fuck.
I’m not thinking straight.
Time to nip this in the fucking bud.
“Can we speak in your office, Mr. Rose?” I ask. “I don’t think Rouge would like to find out a patron of hers was speaking of the club so publicly.”
He lifts his eyebrows. “I’ve known Rouge for years, Ace. I know far more about her than you.”
Damn it.
Think fast, Harrison. Think fast.
I have one more ace to play—pun intended.
I steel myself and then run a finger over Rose’s chest. “I really would prefer to meet somewhere private, Mr. Rose. If you get my drift.”
He furrows his brow. “You’re offering the services you denied me Tuesday night?”
“Think of it as an olive branch, sir.” I bow my head, hoping Rose doesn’t see how clenched my jaw is.
He glances toward the elevator. “And you’re here with your girlfriend…”
“I swing both ways, sir.”
“I’m not offering any money.”
“Of course not. I want”—I grip his shoulders tightly—“I want you. No charge…this time.”
Rose grins. “All right then. Right this way.”
Into the lion’s den I go.
I’m not going to have sex with Rose. But once I’m in his office, maybe I can talk my way out of this.
As Rose walks ahead, I grab my phone out of my pocket and start a voice memo. Maybe I can get Rose to say something I can use against him as leverage.
He opens the door. “After you, Ace.”
“Right, sir.” I walk inside.
Rose’s office is decorated in the same colors as the suite Bianca and I are staying in. Green wallpaper, sparkling pink tiles on the floor. A dark wooden desk anchors the office’s center, with two computer monitors, a large calendar, and a marble bust of a man I’m guessing is his father.
“I’m ready.” He unbuttons his pants and displays his droopy dick and balls. “Get on your fucking knees and suck my cock.”
Fuck. Why did I think this was a good idea?
I slink across the room, hoping inspiration will strike me before I find another man’s penis in my mouth.
And then I see it on his desk.
A framed photo of Rose, a woman with a beehive hairdo, and three kids who all inherited his condescending smirk. Judging by the darker color of Rose’s hair, this photo was taken fifteen years or so ago.
I pick up the photo. “This your family, Mr. Rose?”
“Never you mind who they are. Your business is here.” He snaps his fingers and then points to his dick.
Thank God I chose to record this conversation.
I back up toward the door.
He cocks his head. “Where do you think you’re going?”
I pull my phone out of my pocket, displaying the still-recording voice memo. “I think I now have what you might call leverage, Mr. Rose.”
He widens his eyes. “You little bitch.”
I point to the family photo. “I have a feeling Mrs. Rose might not be so happy to hear you’ve been cheating on her. With a man, no less.”
“We didn’t do anything, you prick.”
“Yes, but you took your pants off and displayed your dick. I think that counts. Plus, I know you’ve slept with countless other men at Aces. The Jack of Hearts, for example.”
It’s a bluff, but I’m playing my odds.
Rose hastily rebuttons his pants, runs his fingers through his silver hair. “What do you want? I’ll be happy to pay you off for your silence. I’ve got plenty of money. Name your price.”
“No money. Just forget you saw me here. Don’t mention it to Rouge or anyone else. My girlfriend and I are here on our own private business. It doesn’t concern you.” I tap on my phone. “But say anything and I’ll make sure it does.”
“Illinois is a two-party consent state, you know. You could get in trouble for releasing that recording.”
“I’m sure I would, Mr. Rose. But as much trouble as I’d get in with the CPD, you’d be in twice as much with your wife.” I glance around the room. “It’s a nice hotel. I’m sure she’d love to get her hands on half of it in the divorce.”
Rose squeezes his eyes shut, takes a deep breath in. “Fine. It’s a deal. My silence for yours.”
“Excellent.” I open the door and exit the office. “Good-bye, Mr. Rose.”
He doesn’t respond as I close the door behind me and leave the lobby.
I’m proud of myself for thinking on my feet, worming my way out of that precarious situation. And all this early in the morning.
I played Rose like a fucking fiddle.
But as I walk through the revolving door onto Michigan Avenue, I can’t help but wonder if I should have just killed the bastard.
17
BIANCA
I’ve lost track of how many nights I’ve performed at Aces.
I could pull out a calendar and count the nights. It’s been several months at this point.
When I was trying to make it as an actress, I booked a few runs of shows at regional theaters. The longest run I had was twenty-two shows singing and dancing in the ensemble of White Christmas with a dinner theater in Tennessee.