Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 39764 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 199(@200wpm)___ 159(@250wpm)___ 133(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 39764 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 199(@200wpm)___ 159(@250wpm)___ 133(@300wpm)
Two and a half minutes later, anger boils my blood.
“Where did you get this?”
“Someone left it in my dressing room last night just before the benefit began, along with a note telling me that if we compete in the upcoming California Dance Star, this footage will be sent to all the judges.”
“And neither you nor Kristoff have any idea who sent it?”
She shakes her head. “That’s why I’m here. I was hoping you could help me figure that out. That competition means…everything to me. I’ve worked years to win this.”
As driven as she is, as ambitious as rumor paints her, I believe it. She’s changed partners three times in the last five years. One broke his leg badly skiing just before dance season began. The next was history after he dropped her during a lift—in the middle of a competition. The third? He’s a mystery. There one day, gone the next.
My mother has the pulse of all her favorite and not-so-favorite dancers. Mamá says there were rumors of a torrid—but brief—affair between her and Jonathan Smythe. I’ll get the truth eventually. Right now, I have to focus on the business at hand.
This devastating video can’t go anywhere.
I extract the flash drive, slot it back in its case, and hand it to her. “There are absolutely no still or video cameras allowed in the club. Phones, either. Period. That’s part of our strict privacy policy.”
“Which someone clearly violated.”
“Obviously. That isn't security footage. If it were, it would be black and white and from an aerial view. It certainly wouldn't be in full color and focused in tight on the action.” I rise, pace.
People pay a lot of money to enjoy themselves at the club anonymously. Often high-profile people. Stars, senators, diplomats. If that privacy is compromised and people find out… I don't want to think about what that would do to our business.
“Excuse me for a moment.” I reach for my cell phone and dial my partner.
“Del?” I ask after hearing a familiar voice rumble at the other end. “We have a situation. You need to see this.”
He’s not a morning person, but he must hear the urgency in my voice because he doesn’t hesitate. “I’ll be there in five.”
I fetch Shanna and myself a cup of coffee, then Del saunters in, buttoning his shirt, his hair mussed and his smile sated. Damn, it’s barely past ten in the morning, but my buddy has already been getting busy.
A glance at Shanna reminds me that I haven’t been busy like that in longer than I care to admit…and I intend to topple Shanna into my bed to change that.
“What’s up?” Del's voice sounds smoky and sex-rough.
“This is Shanna York. She's a professional ballroom dancer. Shanna, meet my business partner, Del.”
Shanna holds out a prim little hand. Del, being the Frenchman he is, envelops her fingers and brings them to his mouth for a soft kiss. “Enchanté.”
No doubt he’s enchanted, but this isn’t a free-for-all.
“Back off,” I growl in his ear.
My friend sends me a dark-eyed glance, brow raised. He understands me perfectly, and he’s intrigued, probably because I’m never possessive. But Shanna makes me feel that way.
She snatches her hand back, and I repress a gratified smile. I can’t think of a single instance when any woman has rebuffed Del. Usually, they throw themselves at his dark stubble, wealth, and bad attitude.
“So, this is Shanna's situation…”
I clue Del in, showing him Shanna's footage. After the clip ends, Del looks every bit as pissed off as I feel.
“I want to know exactly who to beat the shit out of for violating our rules.”
“No idea off the top of your heads who might have filmed this?” Shanna sounds desperate. “I’m assuming you know exactly where this…event took place?”
“Yes,” Del and I answer in unison.
“Is it possible that, if you figure out who used the room in the last week, you can generate a list of likely suspects? I’m assuming you keep records.”
“For payment purposes, of course,” Del confirms. “But that room, it's been used at least fifty times since that recording was made.”
Shanna does the math and her jaw drops. “Ten…events in there a day?”
I shrug. “We go through a lot of sheets.”
“Precisely.” Del smirks. “It’s very popular. I’m sure Ali will be happy to give you a tour.”
I’m dying to, but business now. Pleasure…soon.
Still, my mind takes a little detour. Her shock about the room's constant use is amusing, and it's cute that, despite her own kink, she hasn’t grasped how addicting watching—and being watched—can be. Yet. I intend to introduce her to that delight.
“No, thank you,” she snaps. “I'm assuming you don't want it known that someone is sneaking into your club and recording your guests’ most private actions without their consent or knowledge.”
“Of course we don't want our guests compromised,” Del assures smoothly. “We could make a list of all the guests who have used this room in the last week, but I doubt it would help. In all honesty, I would never have believed any of our members would violate such a cardinal rule. The fee to join is steep enough to attract only the most serious. Our rules are absolute; there’s no gray. Nothing left to interpretation. Anyone who violates our policies not only has their membership revoked, but finds themselves unwelcome at similar clubs elsewhere.”