Sinful Desires Vol. 3 (6 page)

Did I make a terrible mistake accepting that first date?

Chapter 7

I
stared up at my bedroom ceiling, debating whether or not I was going to do what I wanted to do. Well, part of me wanted to do it. The other part kept saying that making the call meant giving in, admitting that I'd been wrong.

But I had been wrong, hadn't I? The claims I'd made, the righteous indignation about a comment that had truly been innocent. All of that had been based on my certainty that I was right.

Now, I wasn't so sure. Growing up, I'd had to rely on myself a great deal, and after my mom got sick, that self-reliance had only increased. After her death, I'd made all the decisions on my own, and any of them that didn't seem to end well, I'd talked myself into believing they'd still been the right things to do. Moving to Vegas was a perfect example of that. I'd made the choice, thinking that it was the best way to rid myself of painful memories and give myself a new start. When I'd discovered that the grass in Los Vegas was just as brown and dry as it was in Philadelphia, I didn't consider moving back or even moving somewhere else. The stubborn streak that had kept me moving at St. George dug in and I told myself that I was building character, that every artist had to pay their dues. All sounded like good reasons, but I knew they were lies.

Now I needed to know if I was lying to myself about Brock. Was he just another bad decision that I was justifying? I needed to talk to someone and with my mom gone, there was only one person I trusted enough to ask the tough questions.

And it was time I apologized to her.

I picked up my phone. It was two-thirty here, which meant Anastascia would've gotten home from work a couple minutes ago. I tapped her number on speed dial and listened to it ring. She answered on the second one.

“Piper,” her voice was cool and cautious, but not forbidding.

“I'm sorry, Ana.” I knew those words had to be said first. “I know you didn't mean those words how I took them.”

“I meant the ones about Brock.” Her tone had warmed, but she still sounded wary.

“I know,” I said. “But that's you looking out for me. I knew that all along. I just didn't want to hear it, so I used your comment about social circles to pick a fight.”

“It's forgotten,” she said, and I knew it was. We didn't hold grudges. “So, tell me what's been going on since we last talked.”

I sighed and felt hot tears prick at my eyelids. I hadn't realized until that very moment just how lonely I'd been. I'd told myself that I didn't need anyone, that I could take care of myself, and I had been doing just that. But now I realized how much I missed having someone to talk to.

“Hon, talk to me.” Now she sounded worried.

“It all started at the reunion.” I knew I had to tell her everything. She had to understand all of it. “Remember when I went out for a walk?”

The words poured out of me. I told her about running into Reed and sleeping with him. About how he'd asked when he could see me again and how I'd intended for it to be just a one-time thing. Then I went on about the bachelor party and how he'd ended up taking me to dinner and confessing that his marriage was a business transaction. I sobbed so hard I could barely speak when I told her how he said he wanted to be with me.

I had to take a break, sip some water and blow my nose but I wasn’t finished. I had to tell her it all.

Tears slipped out from under my eyelids as I told her I'd slept with him again only to find out he wanted me as a mistress, nothing more. I moved from that into Brock's wedding invitation, skipping the parts of that story she already knew, and then continued with what had happened after our fight. When I finally concluded with the disastrous night at the strip club, I was crying freely, all of the pain and anger I'd been storing up coming out all at once.

“So, when I called you that night, you didn't answer because you were fucking Reed Stirling?”

“Really? That's the first thing you say?” A laugh bubbled out, slowing my tears.

“Hey, it had to be said.”

I could almost hear Anastascia smiling.

“I am so sorry he turned out to be such a bastard,” she said. “I know you'd had a thing for him since high school.”

I rubbed at my cheeks. “What are you talking about?”

“You didn't hide it as well as you thought you did.” She sounded amused. “At least from me. I don't think anyone else realized it.” Her voice hardened. “I'd even thought about setting up some sort of meeting for you two. I thought he was one of the good guys.”

“So did I.” I sniffled, but the main storm had passed.

“You did the right thing, not falling for his bullshit about how he had no choice. Everyone has a choice.”

Some of the tension inside me began to ease. I'd needed to hear someone say that I'd done the right thing. I'd spent too much time the past two years around women who would've jumped at the chance to be a mistress to someone like Reed, especially after his whole sob story about his business.

“I mean, does he really expect you to believe that a bank wouldn't loan him the money to keep the business going until it started gaining traction? He's a Stirling. Any bank in Philly would be falling all over themselves trying to give him money.”

I blinked. I hadn't even thought of that.

“Thanks, Ana. I needed to hear that.” I sat up and ran a hand through my hair, grimacing as my fingers caught on a tangle.

“Don't thank me yet,” she warned and I knew what was coming. “I'm about to share a few things you aren't going to want to hear.”

I didn't bother to protest. I knew it wouldn't do any good. Besides, I might not want to hear what she had to say, but I knew I needed to hear it.

“You need to end things with Brock.” Her statement was firm. “I know he came across all sweet and Prince Charming-like, sweeping you off your feet and everything, but he is not your white knight. That was the act. What you're seeing now, this is the real Brock.”

“The one time he'd just had too much to drink,” I couldn't stop myself from cutting in, defending him.

“Still doesn't excuse his behavior. If he knows he's a mean drunk, he should be responsible enough not to drink that much.”

Her stance on that matter didn't surprise me. She'd never had patience with people who did things when they should've known better.

“As for taking you out for an expensive dinner to apologize, because I know that's what you're going to say next, think real hard about it. Did he take you out because he felt bad, or had he already planned on going out and he just called it an apology? How long does it take to get a reservation at that place?”

My heart sank when I thought about what she was saying. Alize wasn't the kind of place people could just waltz into without a reservation and get a prime table. Brock might've had some pull at some of the high-class restaurants in Philadelphia, but I didn't think that'd work here. Vegas had too many high rollers. Unless he was a regular at Alize or had some big business connections, I was pretty sure he'd have to make a reservation like everyone else. I might've been wrong, but my gut, combined with Anastascia's unwavering conviction told me otherwise.

“And, honey,” she said gently. “He took you to a strip club.”

“You'd be surprised at how many guys bring their wives and girlfriends to see a show.” I wasn't intentionally being argumentative, but I wanted to find other logical reasons for Brock's behavior. I didn't want to believe that I'd rebounded from one jerk to another. I hadn't dated a lot, but I liked to think that my taste in men wasn't that bad, that I wasn’t that naïve and stupid.

“Did he ask you if you wanted to go?”

“Yes,” I answered immediately.

“Piper, did he say that he wanted to go and then made it sound like he'd reconsider if you said you didn't want to, or did he actually ask you if you would enjoy going to a strip club?”

I didn't answer, but Anastascia knew anyway.

“That's what I thought.” Her voice softened. “Believe me, I wish he was as great as he seems, but it wasn't just one person I'd ever heard talk about him. This is his MO, and he'll just keep pushing until you finally snap. And I know you. You're stubborn and you don't like to admit when you're wrong. If you wait until he pushes too far, you're going to get hurt.”

I remained silent, but this time, she didn't interrupt. Even after the time we'd spent apart and the fights we'd had, she and I were still close enough that it sometimes seemed like we could read each other's minds. She knew I needed a few minutes to process.

“You may be right,” I admitted reluctantly. “And I may be showing that stubborn streak, but I'm going to give him a chance to explain himself.”

“You know,” Anastascia said with a sigh. “For a girl who's been kicked in the teeth so many times, you sure are willing to forgive people a lot.”

“Maybe I'm just trying not to turn into cynical old you,” I teased.

She laughed and the mood lightened. “Now, you need to tell me everything about Julien Atwood, because the stories I've heard...”

I rolled my eyes even though she couldn't see me. I would give Brock the opportunity to fix this, but there'd only be this one time. No more chances after this. And if things went south with him, I would be swearing off guys for a while. They weren't worth the heartache.

Chapter 8

I
had to work Tuesday night, so I missed Brock's call, but the voicemail he left was apologetic. He didn't try to make excuses for his behavior, but simply said he'd been out of line and rude. He asked to make it up to me the following night on a date. Just the two of us. Julien was going to entertain himself so Brock and I could have some alone time. I agreed, telling myself that his behavior would determine whether or not I broke up with him tomorrow or not.

When my shift ended, I headed back to the dressing room and found a dozen red roses lying on the make-up table. The card held a simple message.

“Piper, thank you for the second chance. - B.”

The other girls were curious and I could feel the eyes on me as I changed, but no one asked. One of the things I did like about The Diamond Club was that we all respected each other's privacy for the most part. Now, if you advertised everything, all bets were off, but if you were like me and kept your private life private, no one pried. In a place like this, too many people had secrets.

I carried the roses home, raising them every few minutes to breathe in their scent. It took me a while to find a vase that could hold them all, but once I did, I put them in the center of the table where I could see them from every place in the main area of the apartment. A little smile played on my lips as I made myself something to eat and it stayed through my shower. I was still smiling when I fell asleep.

I was scheduled for a 'morning' shift the next day so I'd set my alarm for just a couple hours of sleep. Morning shifts at The Diamond Club started at ten and went until seven. They were better in some ways, worse in others. Generally, there were fewer customers in the middle of the day since most people used the daylight hours for other activities, so things were more easy-going. That also meant that the men who were there were usually repeat customers and some had a bad habit of getting overly friendly. Especially the ones that felt like since they watched a girl take her clothes off a couple times a week, there was some sort of intimate relationship going on. Every girl at The Diamond Club had at least one of those customers.

I had two. And, somehow, they always seemed to know when I was working the early shift. Since things were a bit more lax, the customers sometimes got away with more than they did at night. The last time I'd worked a morning when my admirers were there, I'd almost gotten fired for slapping them both. The only thing that saved my ass was that they'd both told the manager that the slaps had been worth the feel they'd copped.

Even those two couldn't completely take away my anticipation of the upcoming date. Another bouquet of roses had been waiting at the club when I'd arrived and every time Paul or Leon let their hands linger a little too long, I'd think about my roses. I knew two dozen hadn't come cheap and I appreciated Brock’s effort to apologize even while I still questioned his sincerity.

While I danced, I started to consider a third option to the two contradictory schools of thought on Brock and his seemingly double personality. Perhaps it wasn't as simple as him being bad or good. Maybe Brock was
trying
to change. He could have been the kind of guy Anastascia thought he was, but now he was trying to be different. For me. It would explain how he could go from being so sweet to a total ass. He wanted to be a good guy. He was just working at it and kept falling back into his old self.

I had this set in my mind as I got ready for our date hours later. While Brock hadn't said where we were going, he'd told me to dress casual-dressy. That was good because I was pretty much out of actual-dressy. I paired a black miniskirt with a simple green sleeveless blouse and pinned my hair up to keep it off my neck, then I spent the next ten minutes debating the merits of heels over sandals. The sandals won out when I saw that I'd somehow managed to scuff my heels the other night. I frowned as I tossed them back into the corner of my bedroom. There was something else to add to my list of things I needed to buy whenever I actually had the money to do it.

By the time Brock was due, I was pacing in front of the couch. He'd texted this morning to ask if he could pick me up and I'd agreed. He'd already seen where I worked. It seemed pointless to keep him from seeing the apartment. He knew I didn't have money and I saw it as a test to see how accepting of me he really was.

When he knocked on the door, I became really nervous, looking around at my clean by shabby apartment. I’d spent all my extra time picking at little things like they were going to magically transform this place into a palace. It didn’t, nothing short of a magic wand would make a difference.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath before I moved to let him in. He had another huge bunch of flowers, more than a dozen this time. The scent was intoxicating.