Club Saturday: Contemporary Menage Romance (Sarasota Sin Series Book 2) (18 page)

“Stop worrying.” Evan got dressed. “I’ll take care of this before it turns into a ticking time bomb.”

To Vania, the bomb was already ticking. “How?”

Evan grabbed his keys from the dresser and shoved his wallet in his jeans pocket. “I’ve ordered one of our security rooms cleared for privacy so I can pull the footage. Then I’m destroying every damn copy.”

“You’re getting the footage?” He would see her come for Matt.

“Hey.” Drake lifted her chin with his finger. “Don’t make that face. Evan will think no differently of you than he does now.”

“I understand, but the whole thing’s embarrassing.”

Evan tensed. “You’re embarrassed and I’m jealous. We’re a pair, huh?” He kissed her. “Just be here when I get back.”

“I want to go with you,” she blurted.

“What?”
 

“What?” Drake echoed.

She could grab her electronic tablet and flick through the calendar on the elevator ride down. “I might be able to pinpoint the night to keep you from trudging through extra footage.” She scooted off the bed. “And if you’re going to face it, you’re not facing it alone.”

Evan’s mouth dropped open.
 
“It was the night I walked you to the parking garage.”

“Yes.”

“Ah, Vania, I remember that night well.”

Chapter 20

“We should give up.”
 

“Vania, you know us better than that.” Drake hitched his hip on the utilitarian desk inside one of the lower security rooms. “Besides, we’re down to two hours of footage.”

“Two agonizing hours.” Even though Vania had pinpointed the night she’d fooled around in one of Club Saturday’s
special
elevators, she hadn’t been the only blonde who’d worn a little black dress that night. So quickly discarding each piece of footage was impossible. “I guess I’m only cut out to watch soft porn.”

Evan glanced away from rows of monitors, his eyes red from scanning them. “From this night forward, you’re not watching any porn whatsoever.”

She started laughing.

“Seriously, my jealousy knows no bounds.” His brows met in the middle, as though he were wrestling with the thought.

Did Evan think watching any other men would turn Vania on as much as them? She couldn’t help but tease. “So, your idea of a monogamous relationship includes no porn?”

“Exactly.”

“What about you?”
 

“What about me?”

“Don’t play dumb.” She thrummed her fingers on the desk. “Are you giving up porn, too?”

Evan’s chin tipped down, his eyes staring beneath those raven-colored eyebrows. “I’ve no need for porn.”

Her eyes moved to the monitors, watching the unbelievable. These people weren’t actors being paid to make films, but were the real deal. “I guess you don’t.”
 

Drake gave Evan a look.

“I wouldn’t start a monogamous relationship with anyone, if I needed this.” Evan waved his hand in front of the screens. “Or even porn. Baby, you have my undivided attention.”

“That’s hard for me to believe,” she admitted.

“We know you’ve been burned,” Drake said softly. “But you’ll learn to trust us. Our faithfulness will be the last thing on your mind soon; I assure you.”

She nodded slowly, her eyes flicking to one of the screens. Her heart flipped in her chest. “That’s me.” Vania pointed. “Left screen, second row.”

Evan and Drake turned simultaneously to see an overhead shot of Vania donning a mask and spinning to put her hands on the mirrored wall.
 

“We have what we need. Turn it off,” Vania demanded, her dinner suddenly rolling in her stomach. “Destroy it.”

Evan started tapping furiously on the computer, his eyes following the identification numbers in the upper screen as he entered them.
 

“Wait a minute.” Vania put her hand on her stomach, rubbing. “What’s…” Oh, she couldn’t be seeing what she was seeing!

“Pause the footage.” Drake put his hand on her shoulder, giving her a reassuring squeeze.

Evan’s gaze skipped from the numbers to the actual footage, and then he paused the recording. “That’s…”

“Not Matt,” Drake finished.

A strange sound left Vania’s throat.
 

Drake took her from the chair, and then buried her face against his chest, forcing Vania not to watch. “Play it, Evan.”

They were quiet for a minute.

“I need to see him.” She pushed at Drake’s chest. “I need to identify him!”

“There’s nothing to see, yet.”
 

“He’s obviously a member,” said Evan, “by the way he’s keeping his face from the camera.”

“So your members know they’re being filmed?”

“Always, for security purposes,” Evan confirmed.

“Does he look familiar to you, Vania?”

She forced her eyes to stay on the screen, feeling violated though her on-screen self was enjoying an orgasm. “Taller than Matt and his hair is much lighter.” That’s all she could make out.

“Tall and a blonde,” Evan spat as her unknown lover left the onscreen elevator. “Needle meet haystack.”

“Don’t cry,” Drake whispered, rubbing her back.

“I’m not going to cry.” Sometimes when Vania grew furious, though, she couldn’t fight it. “I want to know who that man was.”

“You can’t do anything about it.” Evan finished typing in the numbers. “That’s what sucks, what rips me in half.”

“If I find out —"

“Those elevators are for swingers,” Drake reminded. “Most do so anonymously.”

“So when that man got in the elevator with me, he thought I was playing along?”

“You spread your legs for him while he ate you,” Evan pointed out gently. “He wasn’t forcing you. So, he thought you were any other member looking for a hot time.
 
But you’re ignoring the bigger picture here.”

“Right now, there’s nothing bigger than discovering a complete stranger, who I thought was my… Oh!”

“Yeah.”

“Matt did this to me.” Tears streamed. “But afterwards, Matt acted like… he was the one. He knew everything we did in the elevator.” Her mind was going too fast, her mouth unable to keep up. “I kept c-calling the guy in the elevator Matt. He even smelled like him, same soap and everything.”

Both men stayed quiet. Vania wouldn’t have noticed any change in them if not for the pulse hammering in Evan’s throat. She turned to Drake, seeing the same pulse hammering in his.
 

“Evan, Drake, calm down.” She stretched out each arm, flattening her hands on their chests. “Don’t go to jail over this.”

Evan twisted away and slammed his hands on the desk. “So depriving you, bruising you, and cheating on you was not Matt’s worst sin.”

“He shared you without your permission.” Drake’s nostrils flared. “Son of a bitch.”

Air seemed to thin, and Vania thought she would suffocate. “Have you taken care of that footage?”

Evan nodded.

“I need a few moments to myself.” She smoothed her wrinkled skirt and walked into the hallway.
 

Though this floor wasn’t a basement, since Florida could hardly keep basements dry, it reminded her of a hospital corridor, with its gray doors and white walls. She felt trapped without any windows, as though she were sinking in fear and plain ole yuck.
 

Why had Matt done this to her? What perverted kick was he on? And what was he doing during the time another man was touching her? Touching someone else, perhaps, in another elevator?

Vania’s jaw popped from her clenching. “Excuse me,” she asked a passing security guard. “Do you have a phone I could use?” She’d left her cellphone upstairs, and the urge to call Matt couldn’t wait.

“None down here,” he said. “If it’s urgent, you can use my cellphone.”

“It’s not urgent.” She needed privacy.
 
Otherwise, she’d go back to Evan and Drake and use one of theirs. “Are available phones on the club level?”

“Take that elevator up.” He pointed. “It’ll bring you right to the ladies’ restrooms. House phones are inside.”

She started away and then turned around. “When Mr. Easton finishes, could you tell him where you sent me? I’m…”
 
Should she use her real name? “His PA,” she lied.

“Of course.”

After following the guard’s directions, she sat right outside the restrooms. Vania lifted a French-inspired receiver with shaky hands and dialed Matt’s cellphone. When his voicemail answered, she hung up and dialed his house phone.

“Must be pretty urgent to dial someone at one in the morning,” a siren’s voice said from behind her.

Vania put down the receiver and turned around. “Gayle,” she greeted Matt’s lover, Dr. Murphy’s soon to be ex-wife. This bitch had no way of knowing the extent of Vania’s insider knowledge, and now wasn’t the time to tip her off. “How are you?”

She tossed her hair over her shoulders. The raven color wasn’t naturally black like Evan and Drake’s, but it was long and stunning. “Exhausted from dancing and not enough drinking.”

Vania stood, not that she could level the playing field, but she knew enough in business not to stay seated while another stood over her. “Sounds like you need another drink then.” She started walking towards the elevators. “Enjoy what’s left of the night.”

“Vania?” Gayle called to her.

She waved over her shoulder and walked on. It took everything Vania had not to yank the chair off the floor and bash in Gayle’s perfect face. So, yeah, she needed to walk away.
 

“Vania, wait!” The clip of heels followed her to the elevator corridor.
 

“This is a restricted area.”
 
A guard appeared instantly and shooed them from the area.

“I’m with The Easton Company,” Vania clarified, though it hadn’t worked with the last guard until Drake intervened.

“I can’t —"

“You will allow Miss Lange all access to my club,” Evan said.

“Of course, Mr. Easton.” The guard melted in the background.

 
Drake let the door from the adjacent stairwell slam behind him, his eyebrows rising in alarm.
 

In contrast, Gayle’s face lit up when she spotted Drake. Rushing over to him as fast as she could, considering she’d been sewn in her dress, Gayle plastered her hands and lips on him.

“Get off me.” Drake stepped back and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand.

“I’ve been coming here nightly, looking for you.”
 

“And I told you in no uncertain terms to stop,” Evan said, signaling for security. “You’re leaving now.”

Gayle whipped around, her collagen injected lips curling in distaste at Vania. “Why is she here?”

Vania took a step back, unable to process what she was seeing. Was Gayle a woman scorned by Drake or a stalker he couldn’t get rid of? Maybe both, she realized.
 

The sickness rolled in her stomach tenfold. She covered her mouth and jogged to the bathroom.
 

Gayle was fast on her heels, whipping snide remarks at Vania’s back. She ignored every word, turned to the bathroom, and wham.

Vania stumbled.

Drake and Evan were yelling behind her. But the sensation of something trickling down her neck caught her full attention. Vania whirled around to find Gayle holding up her shoe, coming at her again. “You hit me with a fucking shoe?”

 
“Stay away from Drake!”

Vania kneed her in the stomach, forcing her to double over. With a wheezing screech, Gayle dropped her shoe. Vania grabbed a fistful of dyed black hair and raised Gayle to meet her eyes. “
You
stay away from him.”

 
She reared back her free hand and put all her weight into a punch that nearly broke her knuckles, but definitely cracked a few of Gayle’s dental veneers.
 

Gayle cried out.

“Yeah,” Vania said, staring in her disbelieving eyes, “cause I’m a bitch like that.”

Evan got hold of Gayle, passing her off to security. A few strobes were going off, but Vania didn’t care.
 

“Let’s go upstairs,” Drake said in the lets-be-reasonable-tone, but his fury was evident. His fingers brushed her hair away from her neck, examining her wound.

“You’re really
with
her, Drake?” Gayle snarled, fighting security’s hold.

“I’m the last person you want to make angry,” Drake said, wrapping his arms around Vania protectively.
 

Gayle turned her attention on Vania, and then started laughing, broken teeth and all. “Drake Easton’s not the only man in your life I’ve fucked.”

“I know.” Vania shook out her throbbing hand and lifted her chin. “Too bad you didn’t ask me about Matt first. I would’ve told you he was a rotten lay.”

“Matt’s not —"

“If Matt satisfied you,” Vania said, “you wouldn’t be here trolling.” She pushed away from Drake, skirted the main dance floor, and headed to the front entrance.