Total pages in book: 142
Estimated words: 131330 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 525(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131330 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 525(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
“Alright,” Becs says. “If you’re sure you’re okay, then I’ll leave you be. I need to crash. I’ve got a huge exam in the morning, and I can’t fuck it up.”
“Okay, get all the sleep you can.”
“I plan on spending all night having sex dreams about your brother, so if you need me, no you don’t,” she laughs.
“Ugh,” I groan. “You’re disgusting.”
“You know it. Love you, Whoreasaurus.”
“Right back at ya, Tittymcgee.”
Becs ends the call, and as I step back and survey myself in my tiny bathroom mirror, I smile. Don’t get me wrong, I feel like a complete bitch for keeping her in the dark with all of this, but not even my shitty friend skills can put a damper on what I’m about to do.
Grabbing my membership card and my phone, I fly out of my bathroom and into my room, finding my favorite knee-high boots to match the little black dress I’ve chosen for tonight. You know, in case easy access is required. Then certain I have everything I need, I fly out the door, hoping like fuck I can somehow get a grip on these nerves.
By the time I arrive at Vixen and make my way down the stairs to meet Casey at reception, I can barely put one foot in front of the other. So much for taking control of myself. I feel like a bumbling idiot. There are still twenty minutes before I’m due to meet Izaac, but a part of me wonders if I should think of him as the faceless stranger.
Oh, God. Am I making a mistake here?
Reaching the bottom step, I find Casey, and as her gaze lifts to mine with a dazzling smile, I watch as uncertainty cuts across her face. Hell, she almost looks annoyed to see me. “Aspen,” she says, her gaze narrowing. “How lovely to see you again.”
Yeah, right.
I stride up to her, unsure what I’m supposed to do. Every time I’ve been here, there’s been a completely different set of circumstances. I fish the membership card out of my handbag and hand it over. “I guess I’m supposed to show you this,” I say, feeling just as awkward as I sound.
Her brows furrow. “Oh, I didn’t realize you’d become a member.”
“I, umm . . . yeah. Izaac organized it for me.”
A deep suspicion flashes in her gaze as she copies the membership number into her computer and checks everything out, but the more she looks, the more irritated she seems to get. “Oh, it seems you have exclusive access to the VIP lounge,” she murmurs before her narrowed gaze lifts to mine. “How do you know Mr. Banks exactly?”
Her question sets off alarm bells in my head, and I don’t appreciate her tone, but not wanting to get on Casey’s bad side, I simply smile. “Family friend,” I offer, not wanting to give much more than that. “Known him all my life.”
“He doesn’t make exceptions like this,” she says, slowly getting to her feet as she prepares the gold moth stamp for my inner wrist. “I’ve worked for him for over a year now, and he’s never invited a woman to return, whether she’s a family friend or not. Nor does he make allowances to bend the rules of our memberships. There’s a strict process one must go through for the safety and health of our patrons, and it appears that Mr. Banks has accelerated that process and skipped you right ahead to a full-fledged membership.”
Raising my chin, I sense a wave of jealousy radiating off her, and just like that, I can’t help but wonder if maybe I’m talking to a kindred spirit—another woman who’s been looked over by Izaac Banks. But either way, I don’t like her line of questioning. “I suppose that’s his business now, isn’t it?”
Her gaze hardens before a fake smile stretches across her lips. “Of course. Forgive me. I didn’t mean to pry. Just trying to wrap my head around it so I understand what to expect with your visits,” she says before taking my wrist and pressing the stamp to my skin.
The moment she pulls away, she puts the stamper down and hands me my membership card, which I promptly shove back into my bag, hoping like fuck I haven’t just gotten Izaac into a world of trouble. But then, Casey made a comment that’s stuck with me. “You mentioned you’ve worked for Izaac for over a year now?” I ask as she leads me to the main entrance of the club.
“Mr. Banks,” she says as if needing to put me in my place. “And yes, he’s a wonderfully generous boss.”
“So, Vixen is his? He owns this club, just like Pulse, Cherry, and Scandal.”
“Yes, that is correct. However, Vixen is more of a . . . side project for him. The others are business, but Vixen . . . this is pleasure.”