Dirty Little Secret: A Billionaire Romance Duet - Mika Lane Page 0,48
on her hips.
“First of all, you have not been so honest yourself. You knew I was interested in you.”
She looked down for a moment, the defiance draining from her face. “That’s true, but—”
“Look, forget it. What I have to ask you is far more important. I’m not sure I have the right to, but I will anyway. I don’t want it getting out that I’ve been anywhere near the club. Can I count on you for that?”
“If you wanted your identity protected, why did you reveal yourself?”
“I did it for you. Otherwise, you might not have listened to my warning.”
She pulled her trench coat tight. “For all M knows, I go there to hook up. She can’t prove anything.”
“I’m gonna ask you again. Will you keep me out of your story?” I asked.
She’d started to walk away, but turned around quickly. “I don’t know. I’ll get back to you on that.”
She gave a small laugh that was pissed off and sad at the same time. Then she was gone, leaving me in the middle of the Four Seasons lobby, full of shame like I hadn’t experienced in a long time.
Chapter 33
Saffi
Devastated.
I was fucking devastated.
But really—should I have been so surprised? What did I think was going to happen, meeting a guy at a sex club? It wasn’t like he was gonna be a Boy Scout, for Christ’s sake.
But Dad’s freaking client?
I was pissed, sure. But the disappointment was what had its fingers around my heart, and it was squeezing. Hard.
Yeah, I’d taken a liking to G, or whatever the hell his name was. And I felt stupid. Goddamn stupid. And humiliated. The whole time he was probably getting off knowing he was pulling one over on his attorney’s daughter.
Right?
But I had to wonder, if he didn’t give a shit about me, would he have revealed his identity to project me from M?
Those were questions I’d deal with later.
For now, what was I going to do with my story? I wasn’t so sure Ed would accept it with what I had.
Fuck. Just fuck, fuck, fuck.
I ran for the cab waiting in front of the hotel. On the ride home, I pressed my temple against the cool car window. How did I get in such a predicament? A shitty job, where the most exciting thing I did most days was go to the mailroom and pick up lunch. A boss who wouldn’t give me a chance, and when I’d come up with an idea of my own, he wanted to give it to someone else. An insatiable ambition that got me in way over my head.
My mom wouldn’t have wanted to see me like this. She’d gotten respectable assignments as a journalist. She’d covered City Hall and elections, transit strikes, and homelessness. Big stuff. Real stuff.
And to top it all off, I’d had a tryst with my father’s top client, whom I’d met before.
The tears finally came, as I knew they would. I put my hand over my mouth in so the cab driver wouldn’t hear my sobs.
I cried over my many sorrows. Maybe I had no more than anyone else—but, like everyone else, mine were exquisitely and uniquely agonizing.
I pulled out my phone and scrolled to G. I clicked Edit and hesitated for a moment. I scrolled to the Block this Caller option and clicked the check box next to it.
There would be no more calls or messages from G, or Varden, or whatever he wanted to be called.
Next day at work, I took a swig of the bitter remains of my second cup of coffee. I’d pulled an all-nighter on the Club Silk story, and coffee was the only thing to get me through the day, even though I hated it. I dumped more sugar into it in the hope it might magically become more palatable. It didn’t.
I’d sent a draft to Ed. Knowing as eager as he was for it, I figured he was reviewing it at that very moment. So I took the opportunity to draft my letter of resignation. The story on the club was not complete, but there wasn’t much more I could do with it. Now it was in Ed’s hands, and I’d be sent back to the Garden Club and Little League. And I’d never make enough money to move out of my father’s house.
I grabbed my letter off the printer and folded it in thirds, placing it in a long, blank envelope. It was ready for delivery to Ed at the appropriate moment.