Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73506 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73506 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
I step into the bathroom, open a tube of lip gloss, and slide it across my lips. “The one who plays baseball in those tight pants?”
He nods soberly. “The very same.”
“No!”
“Yes! So go get your shit done and come back, girl. The night is young and we’re meeting for breakfast.”
Hours later, standing outside of Bella Notte, I take a deep breath, my heart racing in my chest. I'm draped in a new identity, a borrowed confidence that barely conceals my trepidation.
“Can I help you?”
The bouncers eye me skeptically, but I push through the nerves, raising my chin and taking a step forward. I hold up the fake ID with a trembling hand, hoping I don’t get caught. What would they do?
But they check a clipboard and nod at my name.
“Welcome back, Sasha. Front three rooms only tonight, please, the rest are reserved for a private party.”
“Of course,” I say brightly.
We will see about that.
When the doors open, the pulse of music washes over me, mingling with the low hum of conversation. Inside, the world feels both unfamiliar and electric. Every fiber of my being is on high alert as I scan the crowd, but it’s not like any of the evidence will be obvious.
Jason’s parting words echo in my mind.
“The Montavio family owns and runs Bella Notte, which means that whatever happens there is essentially outside of the law. Rumor has it the owner, Sergio, has strict safety protocols in place, but if something bad happens to you, there’s nothing I can do to help,” Jason warned.
How nice.
As I weave through the crowd, the dim lights casting shadows that seem to harbor secrets, I know that this is just the beginning. My resolve hardens with every step I take, every beat of the music that resonates with the rhythm of my determined heart. My journey into the heart of darkness has begun, and I can only hope that my quest will lead me to the answers I so desperately seek.
Family law doesn’t hold a candle to real-life sleuth work.
Go undercover at the swankiest private sex club in New England? Don’t mind if I do.
I look around the club, not exactly sure what I'm looking for, but I know that I need to take note of as much as I can.
This definitely isn't what I was expecting.
"Hey, gorgeous." I look up to see a punky kind of girl with purple streaks in her hair and a beautiful sequined tube top peering at me. "You new here?" She keeps her head to the side and gives me a smile.
So much for blending in.
"No," I lie. "It's just been a while."
Been a while since what, Dani? Been a while since you’ve been anywhere near good sex?
Yeah, that.
"Name’s Quinn, yours?"
This is an exclusive sex club in the heart of Boston. And we're just exchanging names?
A brief moment of panic. Am I using my real name?
First name, yes. Screw “Sasha Olivieri” and Jason’s fake ID. Using it would mean that if someone called me by that name, I wouldn't recognize it. That would blow my cover. Last name, though… “Olivieri” is nice…
"Dani," I say. "Nice to meet you… "
"Quinn?" A deeper, masculine voice comes from behind us, and we both turn to look. A stunningly handsome man, of obvious Italian descent, stands behind us with his hands anchored on his hips. "I've been looking for you."
He's obviously displeased, and she's obviously… tickled? Why does she look so happy that he's not happy?
"And you just think you found me," she says with a waggle of her eyebrows, before she turns and runs.
He curses under his breath, but I catch the glint of a smile on his lips. Oh. A game of cat and mouse, then.
Maybe I'll like it here.
I close my eyes and mentally shake my head at myself. I can't like it here. What the hell am I thinking? I'm here to find out shit. I need to know who killed my husband and left my daughter fatherless.
I'm not here to have fun, I'm not here to enjoy myself, and I'm absolutely not here to make friends.
I walk with confidence to the bar and wave my hand at the bartender. I need some liquid courage.
The bartender is a pretty redhead wearing a fitted T-shirt and ripped jeans. I noticed the clientele is in various forms of casual, sexy, and obvious BDSM attire. Some wear black and latex, some wear formal attire, and others are dressed as if they're in a Broadway show.
God, I wish Jason was here. He has such a flare for making different seem normal.
"What can I get you?" the bartender asks brightly.
I read over all of the club member requirements with a fine-tooth comb, noting every single rule and bylaw, and I know for a fact that all admitted members are allowed one drink apiece. I don't know if these rules are new, but a brief explanation made it clear: no one gets drunk at Bella Notte. No one does anything that blurs the lines of consent and safety.