Secrets and Lies, page 1
SECRETS AND LIES
A FORBIDDEN ROMANCE
S.E. LAW
S.C. ADAMS
Copyright © 2022 by S.E. Law and S.C. Adams
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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CONTENTS
About This Book
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Epilogue
Sneak Peek: The CEO’s Baby
Sneak Peek: Blackmailed in the Boudoir
About S.E. Law
About S.C. Adams
ABOUT THIS BOOK
He’s got secrets that only I can uncover.
* * *
Lindy: I know I’m a little bit of a wh*re. Okay, not a little bit. A lot. After all, I moonlight as a hostess at the elite Club Z. It’s a place where billionaires pay for pleasure, and sassy, nubile women deliver. But one day, a gorgeous man walks in and my knees go weak as my temperature skyrockets. Dark? Demanding? Dangerous? Check check check. I’m so f*cked … and it feels so good.
* * *
Julian: I’ve got a secret. I can only get it going when I’m paying for it. Yes, and that means women of the night have a special place in my life. So nothing can go wrong when I meet the sweet, nubile Lindy, right? After all, the little blonde is in my favorite line of work, and I’m willing to make it worth her while via her pocketbook. But what happens when Lindy gets pregnant … and suddenly, we become a family?
* * *
Julian’s not a man to walk away from a good time, but Lindy brings out emotions that drive him wild. Join us in this filthy tale where the curvy girl uncovers a dark secret about the man she adores while simultaneously enjoying the dirty debauchery of Club Z. This is a follow-up to Show Me How, but all of my books are standalone and can be read in any order. No cheating, no cliffhangers, and always a HEA for my readers.
1
Lindy
* * *
My outfit for tonight is laid out on the bed in front of me. It consists of a sexy black cocktail dress, under which I’m going to wear a lacy strapless bra as well as a g-string that’s little more than a piece of floss. Thigh-high sheer stockings complete the look, and they’ll be paired with four-inch stilettos that thrust my big bust out while keeping my hips tucked and low.
But I’m not getting ready for a night out on the town, nor am I meeting a special someone. Instead, this is my work attire, at least for the job that actually pays my bills. By day, I’m a barista at a coffee shop in the city called Sixth Street Espresso, but if I relied on my tips from pouring joe, I’d be living in a box on the street. Instead, I rely on my second job to meet expenses, and it’s the one that really brings in the moolah. I’m a hostess at Club Z, an exclusive club in New York City that caters to rich, powerful, and very alpha men.
Clay and Casper Richmond, the owners of the place, opened Club Z a couple years ago as a place for wealthy businessmen to mingle with sexy women. They figured that guys with cash to spare need a place to relax, and flashy, Vegas-style strip clubs aren’t going to cut it. So instead, the Richmonds set up Club Z, and it’s fantastic. Handsome men fork over an exorbitant sum to enjoy themselves with discretion and comfort in the company of pretty young hostesses who flirt and giggle.
And yes, sex happens. It’s not required, nor does anyone expect it of the women who work for Club Z. But the clients are gorgeous and generous, and to be frank, engaging with the men physically is one of my favorite parts of the job. I’m shameless, I know, but I love what I do and I’m not embarrassed to admit it.
While fingering the sleek velvet material of my dress, my body tingles at the thought of whom I might meet tonight. Will it be an Arab prince in New York to live it up beyond what his home country will allow? Or maybe a banker billionaire with a perfectly-cut suit and charming smile. Whomever it is, the men are generally to die for. More importantly, they’re exactly my type and a tingle of anticipation runs down my spine, making me moisten internally.
But it’s time to get going. I slip into the strapless bra and panties, and then shimmy into the velvet cocktail dress. Perfect. Turning in the mirror, I adjust my breasts a bit before pulling up the skirt to make sure the small black g-string is buried enticingly between my cheeks. Then, I give a little wiggle, making my bottom bounce. Oh yeah, this is hot. The guys are going to eat it up.
Plus, no one would expect sweet, innocent Lindy Renfrew to be moonlighting as a hostess at a secret sex club. After all, I don’t exactly advertise the fact because even if I’m not ashamed, there are still a lot of judgmental people in the world and there’s no reason to throw my business out there just for the hell of it. Besides, the exclusivity and secrecy of Club Z are what makes it special. If I go around blabbing that I work at a secret sex club, it would utterly defeat the purpose of the group, not to mention getting me fired in a heartbeat.
Besides, I found out about Club Z through sheer luck. My older cousin, Hadley, came to visit about a year ago, and she was bedecked in all sorts of luxury items. I stared at her fur vest, as well as the cute fur-lined boots she had on, not to mention the expensive Chanel bag hanging off her arm.
“Hads, where’d you get this stuff?” I asked, my eyes wide. “I mean, don’t you work at that juice bar? The one that mixes avocado in with everything?”
Hadley laughed and tossed her blonde curls back.
“Yeah, I’m still there but I got another job too,” she winked.
“What is it?”
My cousin merely tittered.
“Don’t tell anyone because my mom with kill me, okay?”
I was sworn to secrecy and then the truth came out: Hadley was working at Club Z, and by the end of the visit, she’d hooked me up with an interview.
Since then, it’s been wonderful. I still work at Sixth Street Espresso, but my shifts are getting fewer and farther between. One, because I’m tired from entertaining men all night so the morning shifts are brutal, and two, because my small salary at Sixth Street just doesn’t compare to the tips I get at Club Z. One is literally a thousand times more than the other, and I want to optimize my time and energy. To be honest, the only reason I’m still at Sixth Street is for the cover. When someone asks me what I do for a living, I can say that I work at a coffee shop without scaring their pants off.
But now it’s time to go. I grab my purse and begin mincing to the door, but my panties are oddly scratchy tonight. Did I leave the tag on? I pull up my skirt and twist around awkwardly to look, but no, everything looks fine.
Yet I can’t go out like this because I’ll be fishing the string out of my butt every few seconds! As a result, I reach below the hem of my skirt and then pull off the g-string altogether before kicking the lace into the corner of my living room. There. Whoever meets me tonight is going to get a surprise, but at least it’ll be the kind they like.
But as I’m grabbing my jacket and purse again, my phone rings.
“This better not be my manager,” I mumble as I fish out my phone. But it’s actually Hadley’s name lighting up my screen. She’s video chatting me, and I answer right away.
“Hey Hads, how’s it going? You’re going to tonight’s event, aren’t you?”
My older cousin shakes her head and points to her nose, which looks red and enlarged.
“No way, girlfriend. I’m basically Pinocchio right now and Nicole would kill me if I showed up looking like this. You’re going, I take it?” she asks, eyeing my perfectly done make-up and hair.
I nod.
“Yeah, definitely. I’m really looking forward to it too! Word is that some European soccer players recently applied for membership, although I don’t know if Clay and Casper approved them.”
Hadley grins.
“Oh yeah, those guys are hot and totally fit too because they’re professional athletes. But you know they call them ‘footballers’ in Europe and not soccer players, right?”
I shake my head while stepping out of my apartment and onto the streets of New York.
“No, I had no idea.”
Hadley nods before sneezing loudly.
“Well, they do,” she sniffles while wiping at her nose. “I hope you meet a gorgeous one, Linds, so have fun!”
I giggle.
“You know I will!”
But then my older cousin goes serious, little lines appearing on her forehead.
“You know, I’m glad you’re enjoying the job, Lindy. I worry about you sometimes because I got you into this life.”
I roll my eyes. “No need to worry. I’m a big girl now, and not the kid in diapers who was always following you around.”
Hads nods and bites her lip, a concerned look still in those blue eyes.
“I know. But still, you know you can always call me if you need anything, right? Don’t feel like you have to hold back.”
I narrow my eyes, puzzled, while getting into a black town
“What do you mean, Hads?”
My older cousin sighs a bit.
“Well, you’ve always been more emotional than most folks, Lindy. That’s all. I love that about you, and actually everyone loves that about you because you wear your heart on your sleeve and you’d give the coat off your back to a homeless person if it came to that. But hon, you know the biggest pitfall in this business, right?”
I stare into the video screen.
“I think I do,” I say slowly.
Hadley nods again.
“You can’t fall in love, Lindy,” she says in a low tone. “These men are powerful, wealthy and handsome, but you absolutely cannot fall in love with them. There’s no space for girls like us in their regular lives. They’re just here to enjoy themselves in the confines of the club, and then they go back to wherever they come from. Board rooms. Conference calls. Their estates in the South of France. It’s different for them, and you’ve got to protect your heart.”
Oh, is that all? That’s easy. I lean back and laugh into the darkness of the car.
“I know, Hads. Trust me, I know. I’ve been with Club Z for a year and it hasn’t happened yet. Heck, not even close, so I’ll be okay.”
But still, my cousin bites her lip worriedly.
“Just make sure, Lindy,” she warns again. “Protect yourself at all costs.”
“I will, I will,” I laugh while flapping my hand at her. “Don’t worry! Go make yourself some tea and take some Nyquil, okay? We’ll talk again soon.”
With that, Hadley lets out another huge ah-choo before hanging up, leaving me in the silence of the town car. The streets of Manhattan roll by and I stare out the window, but my gaze is blank. After all, my cousin’s warning is true: the hostesses exist to provide a service, and we don’t belong in our clients’ real lives. But what I said is true too: I’m a professional and I know how to protect my heart, especially after a year on the job.
With that, I turn to face forward and smile sassily. Tonight’s going to be a great night, and I know I can handle myself no matter what Club Z throws my way.
2
Lindy
* * *
From the outside, Club Z resembles any other large building in New York City. It’s made of solid grey granite with ornate wrought-iron gates in front, and even a small garden in front of the massive double doors. Slitted windows greet visitors, and inside is a marble lobby done in hushed tones of cream, tan, and gold.
Inside, a doorman offers to take my coat as he greets me by name.
“Hello, Miss Renfrew,” he nods. “The party’s upstairs.”
“Thanks Bill,” I giggle before mincing to the elevator off to the side. Then, the golden doors part and I step into a jewel box before being whisked up to the sky. The Club Z compound is huge, and has its own restaurant, bar, cocktail lounge, as well as suites that members keep for their use. Not all events take place at the compound because Clay and Casper like variety, so sometimes we’ll go to another one of their properties, or even rent an estate in the Hamptons for a one-off event. But the compound has a special place in my heart because it’s here that I always feel sassiest. I know that there’s plenty of security, plenty of good food, and even better, the men always seem ready to live wild.
When I get off the elevator, I make my way down the hall to a large black padded door where a bouncer looms.
“Hey Fred,” I chirp. “How are you?”
The huge man continues to scowl.
“Good, good. It’s nice to see you, Miss Renfrew. Coming in?” he asks, one hand already on the door handle.
But I shake my head.
“No, I’m headed to the ladies’ lounge first. See you soon though!”
With that, I prance to a service door a little further down the hall and sure enough, it’s unlocked. Then I slip inside and make my way to the lounge where about two dozen girls mill about in varying stages of undress. I see that tonight’s going to be fun because quite a few of my co-workers are wearing peek-a-boo lingerie, and some have even rouged their nipples to make them especially alluring and inviting.
But I need to check in with my manager first and sure enough, Nicole’s in the back helping a few girls with their clothes and makeup. She smiles when she sees me.
“Thank God you’re here Lindy. I can always count on you to be ready before arriving, and not ten minutes later. You look good,” she says, eyeing me up and down. “Leave your hair as it is. It looks great wavy, but maybe add some lipstick.”
I turn to look in the mirror while pursing my lips.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, definitely. Use a red,” my manager says with a grin. “Otherwise, your color palette is too dark. That’s the downfall of black dresses.”
I titter.
“Okay, will do.”
Carefully, I paint my lips a gorgeous ruby shade and then pat my hair. I do look sassy and beautiful, even if some of the girls are wearing far more revealing outfits. Then, a bell chimes and Nicole claps her hands. We always do these huddles before we go out on the floor to make sure everyone is on the same page.
“Girls, you look amazing tonight,” Nicole begins. “You’re gorgeous, intelligent, and sexy. You also know the drill by now,” my manager adds. “Be sweet and sexy. Feel your way through the night, make the men feel good, and of course, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
We all giggle because there’s a rumor that Nicole used to be a hostess herself back in the day, although she has yet to confirm or deny it. But then, my manager glances at the clock on the wall and nods. “It’s time, ladies! Strut your stuff and make me proud. You know where to find me if you need me.”
With murmurs of anticipation, we hostesses line up and then make our way down a narrow hallway before approaching a large set of double doors. The doorman there bows, and asks, “Ready?”
We chorus, “Ready!” and then he whisks the slab open as we float into the generous space. It’s really more of a fancy lounge than a nightclub per se, although there is a polished dance floor off in the corner. Along one side of the wall is a large oak bar, and low-slung velvet couches are scattered about the room. Dimly lit chandeliers lend elegance, and already, quite a few men await, dressed in dark suits with drinks in their hands.
Heels click against the floor as my co-workers wander to the gentlemen and begin lighthearted conversation. The girls are pretty, intelligent, and witty with tinkling laughs and beautiful figures. Quite a few are just like me – we’re trying to earn in order to put bread on the table, and a select few are even single mothers who need to support their kids.
I scan the room while ordering an orange juice and then something stirs in the shadows, catching my eye. Was that a mouse? It can’t be. Club Z would take control of a pest problem immediately. But as my eyes grow used to the dim light, the movement comes again and I see that it’s a man standing by himself in the corner. He’s so still that he’s almost blending in with the floor-to-ceiling drapes behind him, as if he’s a part of the shadows.
Why isn’t he mixing with the others? Why isn’t he approaching one of the women to engage in some playful banter? Hmm, that’s weird. No one comes to Club Z to be alone, so I decide to break the ice. Drink in hand, I waltz to where he stands. Blue eyes flicker and then flame watching my approach.
“Thanks, but I don’t need a drink,” he growls.
I smile, not at all put off. “That’s a shame because I do. You wouldn’t let a lady drink alone, would you?”
His response is gruff. “Guess not.”
I nod with satisfaction.
“Then I’ll take a martini. Shaken not stirred, please.”
