Page 22 of Theirs to Desire (Club M: Boxed Set)

FIONA

I ’m so busy Friday that I don’t have time to dread my impending visit to Xavier Leforte’s club.

I spend most of the morning in Arlington, trailing a congressman whose wife thinks he’s cheating on her.

Sadly, her suspicions are correct. A little before noon, he checks into a motel, using a fake name and paying cash.

Less than fifteen minutes later, a woman enters the room.

From my vantage spot in the parking lot, I take photos. Sorry, Mary. Your husband is a louse.

When I’m done, I head back to Georgetown to spend a couple of hours in my office dealing with email.

There’s a bouquet of purple calla lilies on my desk. Mrs. Morales, who’s left for the day, has scribbled a note next to them. This came for you, dear. There’s a card.

My lips twitch. The older woman is intensely curious about everything.

She gives me unsolicited dating advice roughly once a week.

It’s mildly annoying, but she genuinely wants to see me happy, so I nod along.

She must have been going crazy all day wondering who the flowers were from, but though she’s nosy, she won’t cross a line.

I open the envelope. There’s a Lockhart I doubt Henri’s going to answer me.

“Most of the guests stay in the newer buildings,” Henri explains as we ride up the elevator. “The actual castle has only eight bedrooms. Mr. Leforte lives here, and his private suite takes up the entire top floor.”

Must be nice. Then again, from the moment I met Xavier Leforte, I was pretty sure the guy was loaded. The castle just confirms my hypothesis.

The elevator whispers to a stop on the third floor. Henri leads me down a carpeted corridor and throws open a door on the right. “Your room, Ms. Clarke,” he announces.

The first thing I notice is the four-poster bed. Lots of bondage possibilities here. Then again, should I be surprised? The rest of the room is gorgeous. Cocoa-colored carpeting, cream drapes, and bedding. It’s a lovely, sun-filled space.

Henri is waiting for me to comment. “It’s perfect.” My pulse is racing in my chest. “Where is Mr. Leforte’s office?”

“On the second floor, Ms. Clarke,” he says. “If you give me a call when you are ready to head down, I can show you there.”

I wonder where they parked my car. I have a sudden, hysterical vision of fleeing down the flight of stairs, dressed in a scanty corset, the kind that Raymond made me wear, and then realizing that my car is nowhere in sight, and I’m trapped.

First order of business when I’m done with Xavier—find the damn parking lot.

Henri is giving me a strange look. “Are you okay, Ms. Clarke?” he asks solicitously.

Oh God. Not him too. “I’m perfectly fine. Give me ten minutes, and then I’ll be ready to meet Xavier.”

Suck it up, buttercup. You’re here for a job. Focus on that.

Xavier’s office is on the second floor. He’s reading something on his computer when I knock at his door. “Ms. Clarke, come on in,” he says with a smile. “Was your drive okay?”

“The traffic was hellish,” I tell him. “Everyone was trying to leave the city for the weekend.”

“I find the congestion trying at the best of times,” he agrees. He waves me to a chair across from him, and I sit down. “Henri showed you to your room? Do you need anything?”

I shake my head. “This place is amazing.”

His expression warms. “Thank you. I’m quite proud of it.”

Pleasantries exchanged, I get to business. “How many members do you have, and how many of them do I need to investigate?”

“There are a lot of rich people in the world,” he replies obliquely.

“Many of them consider a membership to Club M a worthwhile investment.” He fiddles with a pen as he talks, and I suppress the desire to snatch it out of his hands.

“You saw the great room? When we have one of our monthly galas, there can be as many as five hundred people here.”

I must look alarmed because he rushes to reassure me.

“Don’t worry,” he says. “The number of potential suspects is much smaller. We just need to focus on the people that visited the club in the evenings that Maria was here. I’ve already pulled the records for you. We’re looking at seventy-five people.”

That sounds like a much more manageable number. “I’ll need to know more about the woman who’s being blackmailed,” I tell him. “Maria.”

“Yes, of course. I received your non-disclosure form, but I will warn you again that we take breaches of privacy very seriously here.”

“I understand.” Now that I’ve seen the castle, I totally get how much Xavier’s got riding on cleaning this mess up quickly and quietly.

He nods. He opens a desk drawer and pulls out a manila folder, taking a photo from it and handing it to me. It’s the same photo he shared with me on Tuesday, but this time, the girl’s face isn’t blurred out.

I study it. “She’s quite young.”

“Twenty-two,” Xavier replies. “Her name is Maria Dumonte. Her father is Ben Dumonte. He’s a senator from Louisiana.”

That’s not surprising. Politicians, and by extension, their families, live their lives under a spotlight. If they don’t want to become tabloid fodder, a private club is a necessary evil. “She’s new, you said.”

“She is. She’s only been a member of the club for four months.”

I frown. At twenty-two, I had been too afraid to act on my desires. It wasn’t until I was twenty-seven that I’d taken the plunge and visited a sex club. I can’t imagine how freaked out I’d have been if someone there had taken a photo of me and was using it to blackmail me.

Which reminds me. “She got the picture in the mail, you said on Tuesday. Was there a note attached to it? A demand for money?”

“No.” He steeples his fingers in a now-familiar gesture.

I raise an eyebrow. “Nothing? That seems… odd.” Maybe the first picture was to get our attention. “Do you think you’re the target, not Maria? If word gets out about this security breach, you stand to lose quite a bit of money.”

He looks briefly amused. “Club M only represents a small part of my holdings, Ms. Clarke. While I’m confused at the motive behind this,” he says, pointing to the picture, “I’m reasonably certain I’m not the target.”

Should have Googled him, Fiona.

All week, I’ve been distracted by other things. By turning thirty, by seeing Adrian and Brody in my building, by the session in their office last night.

Right now, Xavier is probably questioning my competence, and he’s justified. Time to get my head in the game.

“When Maria told you about this photo, was she shaken? Panicking?”

He shakes his head. “On the surface, she seems pretty calm. Make no mistake, though, Ms. Clarke. This has the potential to be a powder keg. Ben Dumonte is strongly Catholic and very conservative. If his daughter’s sexual preferences were to be revealed, it would set off one heck of a shit storm.”

“Call me Fiona.” It’s funny hearing Xavier Leforte say ‘shit storm’ in his faintly accented voice. “Who does Maria play with here?”

“I’ll print a list for you,” he promises. “As well as Maria’s social security number so you can start looking into her.” He hands me the folder. “This has a copy of her application and some background details. That’ll help you get your investigation off the ground.”

“Thanks.” Another thought strikes me. “Apart from you, who else knows I’m investigating this blackmail attempt?”

“Nobody.”

That catches me by surprise. He really does want this kept quiet. “No one?”

“I don’t want the culprit warned off, Fiona,” he says. He tips his head to one side and surveys me. “The club officially opens its doors at nine,” he says. “According to Henri, Ms. Dumonte will be here this evening. You’ll be on the floor tonight?”

Butterflies dance in my stomach when I contemplate strolling in the sex-soaked halls of Club M. I want to hurl—I am so nervous.

Calm down, Fiona. Stop freaking yourself out.

“Yes.”

“Good.” A faint smile touches his lips. “Enjoy your time here, Fiona. I’d offer to show you around the club floor, but I’m fairly sure Payne and Lockhart will be here in time to do that.”

I feel my face heat again. Did Adrian and Brody tell Xavier about our session last night? Oh God, I really hope not. That would be mortifying.

I manage to mumble something in response.

Still flushed, I get up to leave, thinking that our interview is done.

I’m halfway to the door when Xavier’s voice makes me pause.

“Oh, Fiona? When you see Adrian and Brody tonight, will you give them a message for me? Tell them I’ve signed them up to do a pet play demo in three weeks.

They’ll need to find a volunteer for that. ”

I freeze. A pet play demo? A volunteer? “What?”

“A pet play demo,” Xavier repeats. “We do demos in the main space every Friday night. If you’re interested in watching, Kai Bowen will be doing a fire play one tonight.

The pet play demo will be a lot less intense, of course.

” His eyes turn amused. “Kiera, one of the bartenders here, tells me that there’s a pretty long list of women who want to scene with Adrian and Brody, so I’m sure they won’t have much trouble finding someone to do the demo with. ”

My stomach clenches. This time, not with nerves, but with pure jealousy. The thought of Brody and Adrian scening with another submissive makes me see red.

What the fuck, Fiona? Last night was a one-time thing. Get a grip.

But my insides are still knotted with envy, and all the denial in the world isn’t going to change it.