“Good,” she says, chuckling as she leans back in her chair. She takes a long sip of wine and smiles to herself. Like the cat with the grin. The one in the tree that’s always putting something over on the other characters in the story.
Jordan reaches across the table, grabs her pen, and signs his name. He passes the contract back to me. I sign, then tuck it back inside the envelope and hide it away in my coat pocket. “I’ll email you a copy.”
“I really don’t need a copy. I don’t need a contract, either. I’m not interested in this game business. I’m playing because it’s fun.” She looks at Jordan. “Like you said, right? It’s just fun.”
“We usually supply an apartment,” I say. “But not this time, Nadia.”
“I don’t need an apartment,” she says.
“I know. And I don’t want you there anyway. You can live wherever you want, but we’re going to play at my house.”
“Which house?” Jordan asks.
“My Club apartment.”
He raises both eyebrows at me. Surprised.
I don’t like to bring girls to my apartment. Last night with Nadia was a daring move on Jordan’s part. Bringing her to me like that. I don’t want to share my space. But I’ve decided to move out of the Club, so who the fuck cares. It’s not my space anymore. “I have some things in there we might find useful,” I say to Jordan. “A little bit of this and a little bit of that.”
Jordan grins, catching my meaning.
Nadia’s hand on my cock under the table jerks my attention back to her. She rubs me through the fabric of my pants and I grow hard and thick at her touch. “If we were there,” she purrs, “and not here, I’d be under this table sucking you off right now.”
“Fuck, yeah,” Jordan whispers back.
“And if I could reach you, Jordan, I’d be playing with your cock right now too.”
Dirty. Little. Whore.
“If we were at my apartment and you touched me without permission, Miss Wolfe,” I growl at her in a deep, low voice, “I’d slap your face and make you choke on my dick for not knowing your place.”
She withdraws her hand. But her retreat comes with a devious smile.
I’m just about to set her straight with another warning when the waiter comes up to the table to take our order.
I order for all of us, just wanting to get rid of the company so I can resume my threats. “You better know what you’re getting into, Miss Wolfe. Because this game is not what you think.”
I wait for Jordan to run interference like he usually does when I get in a mood like this. But he keeps quiet. It’s Nadia who speaks.
“No,” she says softly. “It’s not what you think either.”
I think about her after that. I can’t stop thinking about her. She will be very interesting at least. Not anything like Chella. So far away from Rochelle, there’s no comparison. And I have no feelings for her other than pure carnal desire.
It’s just a peek, I tell myself. I know how to control it. I know how to navigate my way through the puzzle of an erotic maze.
I will win this one.
There is no fucking way in hell this stupid girl will come out on top.
The rest of dinner is pleasant enough. I drink. Jordan and Nadia talk like they are old friends. They already know each other. She is his, after all.
I ponder that as they talk about her job. His job. Last weekend—apparently, he took her to a play—and what they are doing for New Year’s.
“We have a party on New Year’s,” I say absently. They look at me. Almost startled. Like they forgot I was here. It doesn’t bother me at all. That’s the funny part of all this. None of this bothers me. He can have her. I’m passing time, that’s all. “The Club has a party, remember?” I say again, looking at Jordan this time.
“Does that mean I’m invited?” Nadia asks.
Usually this is a great big no. None of the girls we keep in that apartment are allowed to participate in Club business.
But fuck it. She doesn’t even count. And she won’t be living in the apartment.
“Sure,” I say. “As long as you’re prepared for what will happen when you get there.”
She waits to see if I’ll explain. But I don’t. I just pour myself another drink from the bottle the waiter left after we finished dinner, and enjoy leaving her hanging.
“Well, is it a secret? Or are you going to tell me?”
“It’s…” Jordan begins, but stops. “It’s Club stuff, Nadia. You don’t want to participate in that.”
“Sure she does, Jordan,” I say. “She’s a dirty fucking whore.”
“Nice,” Nadia says. “Is that how you refer to all your female members?”
“We don’t have female members. But yes. The men in my Club join because their wives are addicted to dirty sex and want to be fucked by more than one man at a time. You get us. Do you need more than two, Nadia?”
She glares at me.
“I can arrange another player. In fact, most of the games I play involve three men.”
“This isn’t your game, Elias,” she says.
I lift my drink to her in a mock cheer. “No, it isn’t.”
She ignores me after that. And when we leave, it’s Jordan who helps her on with her coat. It’s Jordan’s arm she hangs on as we walk to the valet. It’s Jordan who drives—I’m well on my way to drunk. And it’s Jordan who walks her up to her apartment.
I wait in front of the building in the passenger seat of my own fucking car until he comes back and gets in with me.
“Well?” he says. “What do you think?”
I shrug. Eager to get home and do some more drinking. “She’ll do.”
“What’s wrong with you?” Jordan asks as we make our way through the nearly empty streets of downtown towards the club. I stare at the gold dome of the capitol building, lost in my own thoughts. “Well?” Jordan prods. “You gonna answer me?”
“Nothing,” I say.
What I don’t say is… I’m thinking about Rochelle and Adley living their little happily ever after with Quin. I’m thinking about Chella and Smith and when that announcement will come. The one when Smith says, “We’re pregnant.” I’m thinking about how they’ve moved on and I’m still here… alone.
Because I’m not thinking about any of that.
“I like her,” Jordan says as we pull up to Turning Point. “I think she’s… interesting.”
“Well, good for you. Do you need a ride home? Tell the valet to give you a car.”
And then I get out, slam the door, and walk inside without saying goodbye.
I don’t know why I’m so pissed off, but I am.
I don’t talk to anyone in the lobby. I don’t stop and have a drink at Smith’s bar on my way upstairs.
I just disappear.
My apartment is… God. I need to get the fuck out of this place.
I walk into the kitchen, get the bottle of brandy and a glass, and sit down on the couch. I stare out the window, just fixated on the capitol building, wishing I could turn back time one year. One year and a few weeks, anyway. Back to when Rochelle was just a weird mystery and Chella, Smith, and Quin were still mine.
My cell phone rings in my suit coat pocket. I take it out, and look at the screen.
Nadia’s number. I recognize it from the other night when I called her.
“Yes,” I say, after tabbing accept.
“I just wanted to thank you for a lovely evening.”
I almost snort my drink. “Was it lovely?” I ask.
“Yes, it was. Didn’t you have a good time?”
“Not particularly,” I say.
“Was it me?”
“Are you needy tonight, Miss Wolfe?”
“Yes,” she says. She’s using that purring voice. The low, whispery, husky one. “I thought we’d spend the night together after dinner. I can’t deny I was a little disappointed.”
“Well.” I sigh. “New game, new rules, right?”