Page 38 of The Good Girl Effect (Salacious Legacy #1)

Camille

B ea’s birthday was on Tuesday, and it has thrown off our entire week.

It’s been three days since the theme park, and it feels like I can’t seem to catch up.

The housework has fallen behind. Dinner every night has been a disaster.

And Bea has been extra moody, making the rest of the house extra moody.

It was worth it, though. Getting to walk through the park with them and feel like a part of their family was a dream. Watching Bea open my gift to her later that day and feeling her arms wrap around me tightly was the best feeling in the world.

I don’t know a thing about being a nanny, or at least I didn’t when I got this job.

But I can’t imagine anything more to it than this.

I love her like she’s my own, and I dread the day she and I ever have to say goodbye.

I don’t know if I’ll be around until she finishes school and goes off to university.

But I can’t help think about the future.

How long can I really do this? Won’t I want to eventually get married and have children of my own? And what if Jack wants to start dating again? What will become of me?

The thought of living the next ten years in that spare bedroom while loving Jack St. Claire in secret with these faintly drawn boundaries sounds torturous. But not as much as falling out with him and losing Bea forever.

Both scenarios terrify me; suddenly, the future feels like a disease we can’t outrun. It will either be a long, agonizing death or a quick, painful one. Either way, it’s going to hurt.

Eventually, I’m going to have to make a choice. Stay here and devote my life to this family as a nanny, or save my own heart and say goodbye before it grows too attached.

Who am I kidding? It’s already too late for that.

Every night, Jack and I have the same routine. I put Bea to bed and wait for him to come home. When he does, I slip upstairs, where we lose ourselves in ropes and sex. We know each other’s bodies now like devoted lovers. We have seen each other at our most vulnerable.

I have become Jack’s hobby.

We usually talk after sex, but it’s always about work or my life before I came here. It’s never about the future or us —although I’m not sure there is an us .

These are the thoughts that plague my mind as I walk back from dropping Bea off at school.

The weather is starting to grow bitter as winter approaches.

The leaves of Paris have turned gold and copper, and with every gust of wind that blows, the trees drop even more.

They skitter noisily along the ground. It’s a cruel reminder that everything changes, and time stands still for no one.

When I get back to the house, I hold on to a small hope that Jack will still be there. I want to kiss him in the daylight again, even if we’re not in public. I can’t stop thinking about the gravity of that kiss and everything it represented.

But when the door of the apartment closes behind me and his jacket is not hanging on the hook, I know he’s already gone. The house is empty and quiet, and all the chores I need to do are waiting for me.

With a sigh, I go to the kitchen to get started on the meal prep for dinner tonight when I see the lunch container Jack normally takes to work still sitting on the counter. Maybe he is still here.

“Jack?” I call, but I’m met with silence.

I stare at his lunch, contemplating it. I could take it to him. I know where he works; I’ve been there twice before.

Surely, that wouldn’t raise suspicions. I’m just doing my job.

Plus, I’d get to see him again.

It really doesn’t take much more convincing than that. I slip my shoes and jacket back on and take his lunch out the door with me. The club is only a twenty-minute walk from the apartment. I think he walks most of the time too.

When I get to the club, the first thing I notice is that they’ve changed the sign above the door.

Now it’s sleek pink over black, displayed above the grand-looking double doors.

There are construction workers going in and out when I slip through the door unnoticed.

Standing in the main room of the club, I marvel at the changes.

Before, it just looked like any nightclub—harsh strobe lights, silver fixtures, black furniture.

But now, it looks like something out of a movie.

It screams dynamic luxury and energetic opulence.

Lush magenta fabric and ornate onyx fixtures fill the space.

There is an intricate black crystal chandelier hanging in the middle of the room. This is no longer their parents’ club.

I’m staring with my mouth open when a handsome, slender man with chin-length blond hair and dashing almond-shaped eyes passes by me. He stops when he sees me.

“Hello there,” he says slyly. When he grins, his face practically glows with mischief.

“Bonjour,” I say out of habit. “Is Jack here?” I hold up the lunch case, and the blond man eyes it skeptically.

“He is,” he says carefully before taking the lunchbox from my hand. “Jack didn’t tell me he was dating anyone.”

My eyes bug out wide. “Oh, I’m not his— I mean, I’m just the nanny.”

The man takes a keen interest, stepping toward me. “Just the nanny?” When he smiles, he’s disarmingly handsome in a way that I fear could be weaponized and used against unsuspecting victims who suddenly find themselves falling in love and handing over their hearts.

Shuffling my feet, I glance around the empty club to see if I can spot Jack instead of looking into this man’s villainous eyes.

“I’m Julian,” he says. He has an interesting accent. Clearly American but with a hint of French.

“I’m Camille.” I put my hand out to shake it, but with a coy smile, he lifts it to his mouth and kisses the back as he winks.

“Enchantée, Camille.”

“Are you French?” I ask, too curious to resist.

“Afraid not,” he replies. “J’ai grandi à Paris.”

He grew up in Paris. I wonder briefly if he is the man Jack has mentioned during our late-night talks when he complains about the son of his godfather, who often gives him trouble. This man looks like he gives a lot of people trouble.

“So,” he says as he extends his arm. “Would you like a tour?”

“A tour?” I ask.

“Yeah. We can give Jack his lunch, and you can have lunch with me.” When he smiles, it creates sharp dimples in his cheeks, so charming it’s like I’m getting sucked in by the spell he’s putting me under.

I mean…why can’t I let this handsome man give me a tour? Things with Jack are not real. He’s made that very clear. We have sex without commitment, but that doesn’t mean I can’t even speak to other men.

“A tour would be nice, but I’m afraid I have to get back to work before lunch.”

His smile grows wider. Then I notice his gaze dance upward to the second floor, where there’s a line of covered windows. It makes me wonder if Jack is up there.

But before I can ask, Julian puts out his arm, and I loop mine through. He smells divine, like rich cologne. Suddenly, I imagine myself marrying a wealthy man—never having to worry about anything again. No more work. A luxe apartment in the city. People to serve me instead of the other way around.

Is that what I want more than working for Jack and Bea? My head says yes, but my heart says no.

Julian gives me a comprehensive tour of the upstairs, showing me the new dance floor, bar, and VIP section.

Then he shows me the speakeasy-style door that leads exclusive members downstairs to the adult club by way of elevator.

As we both step inside, he presses the button and leans against the back wall.

“I’m sure you know by now that our parents had a club themselves, but ours will be better,” he says with a smug tone.

“How so?” I ask with a flirtatious smirk. Jack’s already told me everything, but I want to humor Julian. I want to get to know the man who has driven Jack so out of his mind.

“Well, first of all, we won’t only let in the wealthy.” He brushes a strand of blond hair from his forehead. “We plan to have a sliding scale fee system and vetted membership in order to be more inclusive and accessible. That was my idea.”

“Oh really?” I reply, pressing my lips into a grin.

That was totally Jack’s idea.

“And heightened security, of course. We want the club to be safe and welcoming to all .”

“That’s good,” I reply. I don’t tell him how I’ve already found my way inside without even trying.

The elevator doors open, and Julian leads me down the dark hall toward the club I’ve been in before. But this time, when I step through the curtain, a gasp slips through my lips.

“This…” he says as he waves a hand over the newly refurbished club, “is my pride and joy.”

My jaw drops as I glance around the room.

It looks stunning down here. With the same classy, timeless ambience as upstairs, this section of the club screams youth and style.

It’s not just luxurious in a way that’s intimidating.

The walls are painted black with bright pink graffiti logos.

The decor is all in jewel tones and minimalist. The dance floor is mirrored, and the booths around it are soft-looking and comfortable.

Definitely room for…all sort of activities.

If I were to come to a sex club, this is the kind of place I’d want to visit.

Like some multisensory playground of pleasure.

Julian leans back against a low wall, crossing his arms over his chest as his eyes rake over me.

“You’ll have to come see it when it’s open,” he says in a flirtatious tone.

“I don’t think my boss would allow that,” I reply with a smirk.

“Then you’ll come as my date. He can’t say no to that. He doesn’t own you.”

My expression falters as I bite my lip and look down. He doesn’t own me .

“You don’t even know me,” I reply with a tilt of my head. “You just want to bring me to hold something over Jack’s head.”

He laughs in response but doesn’t bother to argue.

“Come on. I want to show you something,” he says.

I’d be more alarmed if we were alone down here, but there are so many people coming and going, workers and people dressed like Julian. I briefly worry that Elizabeth will find me here like this.

As Julian takes my hand in his, he guides me toward the back of the club, but when his eyes catch on the lingering rope marks on my wrists, I snatch my hand away and quickly cover them with my sleeve. Even though I know he saw them, he pretends he didn’t.

I don’t normally wear my scars for so long, but some of the ropes from last night burned into my skin while Jack and I were going at it a little too roughly.

He scolded me afterward for not telling him they were so tight, but I couldn’t make him understand that I loved the burn. Still, he was upset with me.

“This is my favorite part,” Julian murmurs quietly.

I hold my breath in anticipation. He doesn’t lead me to the bar or the dance floor or any of the closed rooms. Instead, he takes me toward a blank wall at the back of the club.

I’m confused as I stare at it. It’s covered in a grid of thin black floor-to-ceiling bars fastened to the plaster.

There are what look like cuffs hanging from various spots of the structure.

When he notices my confusion, he picks up something from a bowl nearby and places it in my hand. And it only puzzles me more. It’s a large red silk handkerchief.

“What is this?” I ask, to which Julian smiles.

With his lips near my ear and his hand around mine, chills run down my spine. “You hold this in your hand, and then you walk toward the wall.”

He guides my movements, and I force myself to swallow as he corners me toward the metal grid. I stop breathing altogether as he lifts my right hand and fastens it in one of the black leather cuffs.

“The rules are that as long you are holding that red silk,” he says seductively, “then whoever comes along can do whatever they’d like to you.” Then he fastens my left hand in another black cuff. Suddenly, I’m bound to the wall, and I can feel my pulse thrumming loudly in my ear.

His hand slides up my leg, and I let out a yelp. I should feel terrible for the arousal building inside me, but I can’t help it. It’s not really him that I’m drawn to but the idea of what he’s proposing.

“You mean…” I squeak, looking over my shoulder at him. He’s so close our mouths nearly touch.

His hands are on my hips now, and he gives them one quick jerk, slamming his body against my ass and making me moan. I am absolutely shameless for how turned on I am right now. I should not be here with him. I should be with Jack .

“Imagine being fucked by complete strangers,” he mumbles near my ear. “Used freely for anyone’s pleasure. Is that…a fantasy of yours?”

Is it? I’ve certainly never thought of that before, but this feeling right now has me thinking that I have fantasies even I haven’t discovered yet.

I seem to be so captivated by it that I find myself whimpering. “Yes.”

Suddenly, the next voice I hear isn’t Julian’s, and it isn’t nearly as pleasant or quiet.

“What the fuck?” Jack bellows angrily. His voice has a growly sound to it.

I gasp loudly as I struggle to spin around to find him.

“Oh, hello, Jack,” Julian says, and judging by the way he said that, he’s not at all surprised or horrified by my boss’s sudden presence in finding us like this.

In fact, I’m starting to think I’ve been set up.