Page 36 of The Boss and the Wedding Mess

I perk up at that.

"She looks amazing, has a killer figure, and she's quick-witted. And she'll be working under you? If I were in your position, I know what I'd do with her." He grins and clarifies: "I mean, if I wasn’t married, didn't have five wonderful kids, and was twenty years younger. Then definitely."

“Right. But I’m definitely not getting involved with employees. That’s messy. That always ends badly.”

“Still such a decent guy, Lex.” He chuckles and slides a sleek black card with gold lettering across the desk. “Ever heard of these guys?”

I pick it up and examine it more closely. “MG?”

There’s a coat of arms divided into four. A lion in the upper left quarter, a fleur-de-lis in the lower right, which actually comes from French heraldry. Upper right has the M and lower left the G. “What does it stand for?”

“Millionaires and Gentlemen’s Club,” Carlos says, putting away a file. “Some of our members are in it. When they heard you’d be training here, they asked me to give you that invitation.”

“Exclusive club, then?”

“Very. Only filthy rich guys with manners. Not just money—but brains too.” He taps his temple. “You’d fit right in, no?”

“So, it’s a men’s club. And they gave this to you?”

“I’m a trustworthy man.”

“They paid you to pitch it, didn’t they?” I ask the old warrior.

“No, but I know several of them well. One told me they’d selected you.”

“So not his call.”

“Apparently not.”

I flip the card over. “Coordinates,” I murmur.

“Though that was a phone number.”

“I’ll check it out. No harm in looking.” I nod at him. “Heading home now. If it's nearby, I might stop by tonight.”

“Put in a good word for me, maybe they’ll let me in too,” he laughs.

“If not you, then who?” We stand, shake hands, and I grab my bag. It’s just before ten. Time enough for a small detour.

In my car, I enter the coordinates. The address is right in the middle of downtown. I take a closer look and realize it's a hotel. The MG. How fitting, though it actually stands for Montgomery Grey—a real estate guy who died a year ago. He owned half ofEngland, or so it felt. His family split the property empire. One of them must have taken over the hotel and decided to open a club there. Interesting.

I’m about to put my phone away but hesitate. I want to look at London's picture again. Her smile lingers in my head, impossible to shake.

Fifteen minutes later, I pull into the hotel’s valet service and my car disappears underground while I step into a lobby. Elegant men and women are mingling. A single night here costs five hundred pounds at least. Regular tourists rarely wander in here.

At the reception desk, a pretty blonde beams at me. The second I slide the card across, she knows exactly what to do.

“Welcome, Mr. Blackthorn. Thank you for accepting our invitation. May I ask you to follow me?"

“Gladly.”

She clicks away on her heels, and I follow her to an elevator with a red carpet and its own attendant. A young brunette takes over now. “Welcome, Mr. Blackthorn," she chirps as well. “You’re already expected.”

"I'm quite curious," I say as she presses the button and shortly after, the elevator doors open. Both ladies accompany me. They select the top floor—then we zip upward.

When we arrive, the doors open again and both ladies step forward. However, the blonde stays by the elevator while the brunette takes me with her. I only see the blonde bow before heading back down.

The anteroom is luxurious—Appealing art and elaborately designed plants welcome me. Only the finest materials have been used in the floor, walls, and ceiling. There's even a small fountain that gently bubbles away. The room is bathed in a pleasantly warm light, creating a cozy ambiance that seems slightly dim yet erotic to me.