the Dungeon to show up?” He turned away from the view and waited for Karl’s answer.
“Possibly. Depends on when you hold it, and how exclusive it is.”
“It could be an invitation-only event.”
Karl straightened up on the couch, taking more interest in the idea. “A lot of the people who would be willing to spend serious money on that sort of stuff prefer to stay anonymous. They might not be comfortable in an open bar.”
Val thought about it. “I could set it up for private bidding or purchasing on the products. Use the bachelor room for a small, more private showing for select individuals.”
“That would probably work. When are you thinking of doing it?”
“I haven’t set a date yet.” Or mentioned the idea to Samair.
She was gone from his bed when he woke up on Monday morning and he hadn’t seen or heard from her since. He should be happy that she was sticking to her word, keeping things casual.
He was happy about it. It was everything else in his life that was fucked up. But not for long.
“I’d do it soon though. If I work it right, this could be the way to meet that final payment.”
“About that.” Karl sat forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “I talked to my bank guy and liquidated some funds, so if you need it, I’ll have a fair amount of cash handy in a couple of weeks.”
Stunned, Val just stared at him. Karl had plans for his money, his own dreams.
“Consider it a personal loan, not an investment. This is just to shut that bitch down and make sure the club is and always will be yours.”
He didn’t know what to say. “Buddy—”
“Look,” Karl cut him off. “I feel like this is partly my fault for not making sure your ass was covered six ways from Sunday in that divorce.”
“That’s bullshit, man. You did everything I asked you to.” Anger rose in his chest. “It’s not your fault, or mine, that we never considered Vera’s using her family connections to pull strings at the bank. It’s fucking devious of her, and there was no predicting it.”
“Still—”
“Still, nothing. This fetish fashion thing will work out. I managed to build this club up from an abandoned warehouse, I can fucking throw a party big enough to raise some money.” All he needed was a hot theme, which he had, and he was off. “If— when this fashion show event idea plays out . . . I won’t have any worries.”
“Where’d the idea come from anyway?”
Samair’s naughty PVC outfit. Her adventurous streak. Her fantasy list.
“Sex sells, and I need something that will sell fast and furious.” He met Karl’s probing gaze head on. “Plus, I met a woman with a bit of a thing for interesting lingerie recently. It got me thinking.”
“A woman, huh?”
He waited; he knew what was coming next. Karl was getting too predictable in his cynicism. “Would this be the curvy blond plaything from a week or two back? The one you said was entertainment, not a distraction?”
“Yes. And I was right, she’s not a distraction. In fact, she’s been . . . inspirational.”
That got a wolfish grin. “Yeah?”
“Definitely.”
18
S amair dashed across the small apartment, dripping water and cursing as she dove for the ringing phone on the bed. She was in the shower when it started ringing, and normally she’d leave it, but she’d actually started to get some calls in response to the cards all the dancers were handing out, and she wasn’t taking a chance on missing an order.
“Samair speaking,” she said breathlessly.
The first time a call came in from a client there’d been a misunderstanding when Samair had just answered with hello. After saying it was the wrong number, they hung up and called back, then asked if they’d reached Trouble Designs. But answering the phone by saying Trouble also hadn’t gone over so well when her mother had called.
“Samair, it’s Val.”
Warmth swept through her at the sound of his deep voice. “Hi, Val, How are you
“Possibly. Depends on when you hold it, and how exclusive it is.”
“It could be an invitation-only event.”
Karl straightened up on the couch, taking more interest in the idea. “A lot of the people who would be willing to spend serious money on that sort of stuff prefer to stay anonymous. They might not be comfortable in an open bar.”
Val thought about it. “I could set it up for private bidding or purchasing on the products. Use the bachelor room for a small, more private showing for select individuals.”
“That would probably work. When are you thinking of doing it?”
“I haven’t set a date yet.” Or mentioned the idea to Samair.
She was gone from his bed when he woke up on Monday morning and he hadn’t seen or heard from her since. He should be happy that she was sticking to her word, keeping things casual.
He was happy about it. It was everything else in his life that was fucked up. But not for long.
“I’d do it soon though. If I work it right, this could be the way to meet that final payment.”
“About that.” Karl sat forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “I talked to my bank guy and liquidated some funds, so if you need it, I’ll have a fair amount of cash handy in a couple of weeks.”
Stunned, Val just stared at him. Karl had plans for his money, his own dreams.
“Consider it a personal loan, not an investment. This is just to shut that bitch down and make sure the club is and always will be yours.”
He didn’t know what to say. “Buddy—”
“Look,” Karl cut him off. “I feel like this is partly my fault for not making sure your ass was covered six ways from Sunday in that divorce.”
“That’s bullshit, man. You did everything I asked you to.” Anger rose in his chest. “It’s not your fault, or mine, that we never considered Vera’s using her family connections to pull strings at the bank. It’s fucking devious of her, and there was no predicting it.”
“Still—”
“Still, nothing. This fetish fashion thing will work out. I managed to build this club up from an abandoned warehouse, I can fucking throw a party big enough to raise some money.” All he needed was a hot theme, which he had, and he was off. “If— when this fashion show event idea plays out . . . I won’t have any worries.”
“Where’d the idea come from anyway?”
Samair’s naughty PVC outfit. Her adventurous streak. Her fantasy list.
“Sex sells, and I need something that will sell fast and furious.” He met Karl’s probing gaze head on. “Plus, I met a woman with a bit of a thing for interesting lingerie recently. It got me thinking.”
“A woman, huh?”
He waited; he knew what was coming next. Karl was getting too predictable in his cynicism. “Would this be the curvy blond plaything from a week or two back? The one you said was entertainment, not a distraction?”
“Yes. And I was right, she’s not a distraction. In fact, she’s been . . . inspirational.”
That got a wolfish grin. “Yeah?”
“Definitely.”
18
S amair dashed across the small apartment, dripping water and cursing as she dove for the ringing phone on the bed. She was in the shower when it started ringing, and normally she’d leave it, but she’d actually started to get some calls in response to the cards all the dancers were handing out, and she wasn’t taking a chance on missing an order.
“Samair speaking,” she said breathlessly.
The first time a call came in from a client there’d been a misunderstanding when Samair had just answered with hello. After saying it was the wrong number, they hung up and called back, then asked if they’d reached Trouble Designs. But answering the phone by saying Trouble also hadn’t gone over so well when her mother had called.
“Samair, it’s Val.”
Warmth swept through her at the sound of his deep voice. “Hi, Val, How are you
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