Lahat ng Kabanata ng Club Red: Sin And Seduction : Kabanata 131 - Kabanata 140

“Now that James is locked up, what's your plan moving forward with your newfound freedom?” Troy's question is lighthearted, but I sense a deeper undercurrent. “Well, I've been asked out by both Konan and Hunter, so it's not like I don't have options.” I grin, but my heart sinks as his expression tightens. And I suddenly know the truth for sure. “They were in on the bet, weren't they?” He nods his head. “But for the sake of transparency, I've talked with Konan.” I can see how hard the words are for him to get out as he continues speaking. “Konan regrets the bet. He really likes you. He thinks you're an amazing woman, that you’re interesting to talk to, that you’re witty and smart, and a good match.” “Why would you tell me this?” If Troy is trying to win me over, why would he tell me about another guy that would be a good match for me potentially? Troy’s eyebrows and shoulders lift a fraction of an inch. “Because I want you to have the opportunity to be happy, even if being happy m

As I get the espresso maker out, I glance at the box of cookies on the counter, smiling to myself. I can’t help but remember how bad the cookies had been, and how she'd laughed at herself. I love that she was able to poke fun at her terrible cookies and that she hadn’t demonized me for telling her the truth. I don't think I've ever met anyone who preferred to know the truth, even at the expense of their feelings. I guess I could bake her some equally terrible cookies, although I'm not sure I can meet that bar. No, the gesture needs to be something big. Something I can't take back, something that proves to her that she is very important in my life. Just making bad cookies for her probably won't prove that point, but I'm absolutely putting that idea in my back pocket for a rainy day. Frustrated and out of ideas, I push the espresso maker back and decide I need something stronger. I grab my keys and head for the door. Ten minutes later I'm sitting at Club Red, my hands flexing aroun

I turn away from him in hopes that he won't see the desperation on my face. One thing I hadn't considered is how the space might change the way I look at the man. Sure, he's always been commanding and sexy, but now he fits in this space and there’s something so incredibly sexy about him I’m not sure how to contain myself. So I stare at the double doors that I had commissioned specifically for this space and walk over to close them. I want him to see the art that I'd hung. I want him to see the lighting. I want him to see every little detail that I've added to this space. The lights, the brightness, the touch of dark, the shadows, everything that makes the area come alive perfectly in a way that's reminiscent of Club Red without being obviously derivative. I worked really hard on this room, and I'm absolutely proud of how the space turned out. Hard work, lots of money, seemingly endless sleepless nights... all seem like they've completely paid off. I turn to face him, waiting to se

“How dare I what?” I ask, taking a calm sip of my whiskey, refusing to even give her the attention of glancing in her direction. I know from experience there's no good way or right way to handle these situations with her, so instead I chose to go with a minimal response. “You know what you did.” Her voice lowers to a hissing whisper. I can sense that she's leaning in, trying to intimidate me with her presence or anger, or both. But she never has and never will bully me into feeling any kind of way. Any power she had over me, she lost a long time ago... and I’m going to keep it that way. I notice my friends beginning to shift and shuffle around the table, uncomfortable with the situation. I have no doubt that each and every one of them is wondering if they should step in, step up, say something, or keep to themselves. Honestly, it doesn't matter what they decide to do. Things aren't going to get better or worse. Once Lyla is fired up like this, there's no stopping her until she say

Lyla doesn't seem to have anything to say, and Troy takes her shoulders in both hands, giving her a slight shake. “Did you call the cops? Did you report her missing?” Lyla shakes her head. Troy lets out a sigh, his hands falling away from her shoulders as he shoves a shaking hand through his perfect hair, clearly upset. “You need to call them now, Lyla.” The frustration edging his voice echoes within me, and I can't believe that she or the child's parents didn't immediately call the cops first thing when they found her missing. I don't know how old this niece is, but does that matter? If she’s missing, they need the cops involved. Which only bothers me more and makes this whole thing more confusing. I'm struggling against the urge to open my mouth and ask questions. I don't want to give myself away, given that I've been hidden in this room listening to a private conversation. But I also want answers. Lyla's phone rings, ending the struggle within me. She quickly answers, and I s