Determination to uncover the mystery of Frankie’s soundalike laugh has me moving back to the stairwell door and looking through the window.
What I find there has me wishing I would have kept moving.
The woman is in fact Frankie, but the man who has her pinned to the wall isn’t Fred. It’s Vance, one of the tennis pros at the club.
I hear their murmurings as they echo off the cement walls. They’re kissing, which is evidence enough, but from the thrusting motion of Vance’s hips, I can tell they’re doing far more than that.
My guts twists and I back away from the stairwell door.
Fuck. Chloe’s instincts about Frankie had been right. I’d had my suspicions, a woman like that with a much older man like Fred is your typical gold digger stereotype. I’d hoped I was wrong. For Fred’s sake.
Now, I’ve seen it with my own eyes.
My mind immediately goes to the deal with Fred. I can’t begin to know what his response would be if I told him about Frankie’s infidelity. He’d be hurt, maybe embarrassed. And I’d be the messenger of that pain. No matter how good my intentions would be, saving Fred from further heartache and financial loss, he might not see it that way. Fred is prideful, he’s already making me earn this acquisition. I’ve been jumping through hoops to get this deal closed. He could walk away with Voltaire, give Ryan Shaw the chance to swoop in and take it out from under me.
No. I can’t let that happen. I can’t do anything to jeopardize the deal with Voltaire moving forward.
We’re a month out from signing. Surely, not much harm can be done in four weeks.
Besides, it’s not my place to tell Fred something so personal. We don’t have that kind of relationship. It’s just business.
I head for the men’s locker room, determined to forget what I saw in that stairwell.
CHAPTER 22
Chloe
“So, when do the cat claws come off?” Jules asks, reaching for another bag to fill with books.
We’re spread out in the conference room at St. Clair Press. The table is covered with books and other supplies to assemble the takeaway bags for the Books 4 Kids event.
“The photoshoot is at ten. Then I’m going straight to the nail salon to have them removed.” I glance at the clock. I’ve got forty-five minutes before the photoshoot.
“I don’t know how you’ve managed all week.”
I press the sticky part of a sticky note onto the stack of bookmarks. When I lift it, the bookmark comes with it, then I detach the bookmark and place it into the bag.
“It’s called getting creative.” I smile.
Jules laughs at my system for putting bookmarks into the bags, but seriously it works. That’s how this week has been. Finding work arounds for tasks that having these long nails make difficult. Using a quarter under the tab of a soda can to open it, wearing elastic waist skirts, and while I love holding a book when I read, I’ve discovered a new appreciation for audio books.
“Is that what’s happening between you and Barrett?” She wiggles her eyebrows. “You’re ‘getting creative’？”
I can’t help but blush at the memory of the last four nights. Barrett’s mouth on me, those proficient fingers of his thrusting inside me. The orgasms I’ve received softening the blow that Barrett has beat me at WordIt four days in a row. I’ve still gotten the word correct, but Barrett has been faster.
I’m counting down the minutes until my nails are a reasonable length, but I also have to wonder what will happen between Barrett and me once they come off? And there’s also the frustration that I still haven’t touched him yet. I didn’t think it would be that frustrating, but after everything we’ve done and I have yet to hold his cock in my hand or put it in my mouth, I’m starting to go insane.
“Did you get any action last night?”
“He ate me out on his desk. Two orgasms,” I say, trying not to pout.
“So, no,” Jules makes a motion with her hand and places her tongue into her cheek.
“No. I don’t know how much longer I can take it. I’m an excellent WordIt player, how does he keep beating me?”
“What about your list?” she asks.
“What about it?”
“Don’t you still have one more request?” She wiggles her eyebrows.
“Yes.”
I think about our agreement and the request list that Barrett set up at our lunch meeting weeks ago. How he said I wasn’t using my requests wisely.
“So, request to suck his dick.”