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Temptation is not the first thing that greets me when I arrive at The Billionaires Club the next day. It's picketers. Five of them holding signs. Three of the signs are basic.
Say NO to The Billionaires Club
The other two are more imaginative.
No Brothel for Charity
Women Against the Sex Industry
Four of the picketers are women. One of them is a man. None of them look happy to see me.
I want to sink down in my seat as I drive past them. There's no escaping them, though. They see my face and shout at me, their voices rising in unified protest. Thankfully, they don't follow me onto the property. It's like there's an invisible forcefield keeping them from walking into the parking lot. I'm grateful for that.
My hands tremble as I pull the key that Croix gave me yesterday out of my purse and shove it into the lock. It's not until I'm inside the building that I feel safe, though I'm still worried for my vehicle. Hopefully, the forcefield holds, and I don't find my car vandalized at the end of the day.
Once I lock the door behind me, I stand there for several seconds just staring at the picketers. They've turned their attention to the streets, calling out to whoever drives by and bobbing their signs in the air. I place my hand over my heart, feeling its rapid beating.
This is not a good way to start my day.
Content that I'm no longer the target of the picketers' malice, I make a beeline for Croix's office. He doesn't look the least bit bothered when I find him there hunched over his keyboard. He's so intently focused on his computer monitor that he doesn't even glance up at me until I've taken several steps into the room.
“That was quite a welcoming committee.” My voice is laced with sarcasm. My gaze drifts past him to the floor-to-ceiling window in his office. The offices should have been facing the parking lot instead of the ocean.
“I see you met the picketers.” He pushes his keyboard forward so that he can prop his elbow up on his desk and rest his chin on his hand.
“I wouldn't say that met them is accurate.” I pause, waiting for him to respond. When he doesn't, I continue, pointing back towards the parking lot. “Should I be worried about my car?”
“No.” He gives a slight shake of his head. “They know they're not allowed on the property.”
“Good.” I breathe a sigh of relief. “Should I worry about my safety?”
He smirks as if I'm an idiot for asking that. “They're just picketers, Raven. They carry their signs and shout their bullshit, but they're not out to physically harm anyone.”
“I've just never had to deal with anything like this before.” I fan myself, suddenly feeling overheated from stress.
“Well, you better get used to it. They're here most days. And there's likely only going to be more of them the closer that we get to opening.”
“That's going to hurt business, won't it?”
“It might, but there's nothing that we can really do about it, so there's no point in worrying needlessly.”
I'm amazed that he's taking such a relaxed stance on this.
“Was this something that you had to deal with at the California location?”
“Not while I was there. By that time, the picketers had already given up. Once they realize that the business isn't going anywhere, they'll admit defeat and look for something else to protest.”
“How long will it take for that to happen?” I scratch the back of my head, trying not to mess up my hair in the process.
“Who knows? Weeks. Months. Depends on how much free time they have and what else is going on in the city.”
That doesn't make me feel any more secure. The thought of having to deal with the picketers on a daily basis for an indistinguishable amount of time is annoying. Not that dealing with them requires anything more than driving past them. Still, seeing them makes me feel like I'm doing something wrong.
“Shall we get down to business?” Croix gestures at the seat across from him.
I lower myself into it. “Sure.”
“I've been coming up with room designs for both the fantasy and the guest suites. Most of the hotel will be done in beach themes.”
“That makes sense since we're at the beach.” I nod.
“Yeah. The guest rooms are the easy ones to design. It's the fantasy rooms that I need help with.” He pushes his chair away from the desk a little and leans back in it. “So tell me, Raven, what are women into these days?”
My cheeks flush from the question. I know exactly what he's asking me. As if the implication isn't enough, he puts words to it.
“What do you fantasize about?” His lips curl into a smirk that makes my heart skip a beat.
You. Here. Now. On your desk.
My mind goes to a million different places, and all of them lead to Croix between my legs. I swallow hard, all words evaporating from my mouth. They're replaced with a dryness that keeps my lips sealed.
“I don't know,” I finally manage to mutter after what feels like an eternity of silence and blank staring.
“You don't know?” he laughs. “Surely there's something that you haven't tried that you've always wanted to do.”
***
“BDSM?” Cindy quirks an eyebrow at me. “What's that?”
“It seems to be what everyone is into these days.” I sink back into the sofa, feeling the weight of the day adding to my 138lbs.
“I have no idea what that is.” She stares at the television, deeply engrossed in a cooking show. That seems to be all she watches.
“It's whips and chains and nothing I'm particularly interested in,” I sigh.
“But you told him that's what you're interested in.” She casts a sideways glance in my direction.
I wasn't about to tell Croix all of my fantasies. Besides, my mind was completely erased the second he made the question personal. All I could do was grasp at the first thing that came to mind. BDSM seemed like the obvious choice. Women have been wild about it ever since Fifty Shades of Grey came out. It seems that most women just want to give up control for a while, surrender their bodies to the desires of a powerful man. It does sound appealing minus all of the pain and mental manipulation. To be honest, I don't know much about it, and I've never really cared to learn.
“I need to come up with some other ideas.” I scowl. “You should have heard the ones he threw out.”
“Oh, I bet this will be rich,” her voice is full of curious amusement.
“Reverse glory hole.” I close my eyes, picturing it as I say the words.
“Reverse glory hole,” she parrots, turning her attention away from the television for a split second. “What in the hell is that?”
“So get this.” I sit up, trying to recall Croix's description. “The woman lies on a padded wooden sawhorse with her ass sticking out, and her ass goes in this hole in the wall. Then one of the billionaires comes in and fucks her from behind. She can't see who it is, so it's supposed to be all mysterious.” I wiggle my fingers.
Cindy rolls her eyes. “That sounds like a recipe for disaster. The pool boy could be sneaking in to fuck the clients for all they'll know.”
“He also wants a regular glory hole so that the clients can give blowjobs to the billionaires.”
“Sounds more like a guy's fantasy than a woman's. To me, at least.” She huffs.
“It is, but I do see some intrigue to it.” I tilt my head to the side in thought.
“If I were paying ten thousand dollars for sex, I'd damn sure want to see the face of the person I was fucking.”
“These are just ideas we're throwing around right now.”
“That sounds like such a stressful job, trying to figure out creative ways to have sex,” she quips.
“It's more stressful than you'd think.” I exhale deeply, my gaze dropping to the hemline of the black dress I wore to work today. “The sexual tension is very real.”
“Raven,” her tone is warning.
“I know. I know.” I tear my hands through my hair. “I need to do something about this.”
“You need to get laid.” She nods in approval at her own suggestion.
“Maybe I do.”
“You should go out this weekend. Find someone to fuck that's not your boss.”
“You should come with me.” I lean over and bump shoulders with her.
She looks over at me. “And cock block you? I don't think so. You're not going to get any ass with an old woman at your side.”
“It's not about that.” I give her a gentle slap on the knee. “Besides, you're not old.”
“It is about that,” she insists. “I don't mean to sound rude, but it's time that you found friends around your own age to hang out with. I love spending time with you, but there are places that we just can't go to together. My clubbing days are over.”
I frown, even though I know she's right. Croix is the only person I work with, so it's not like I can make workplace friendships with other women. It will still be a while before he hires more staff, and even then they'll all be men. There's only one place I know of to turn to make friends, and I'm not very thrilled about it.
