Dirty Bad Secrets(84)
“You’ll let it all go? Italy? Vincent? This crazy desire for hedonistic gratuitous fucking? Don’t think I don’t know, Faye, I know how much you like variety. I don’t want to glance over my shoulder one day and find you fucking half the fucking club behind my back.”
“All in,” I repeated. “Nobody else. Except maybe Topaz.” I felt him flinch and fought the urge to giggle.
“We need rules, Faye, this can’t be a fucking free-for-all, not while we’ve got a business to run. You’re reckless and irresponsible and you’ll waltz us into a whole fucking world of trouble, if you’re not careful. Can you even begin to imagine that little spectacle with Topaz recounted in an industrial tribunal?”
I rolled my eyes, even though he couldn’t see them. “She wouldn’t, that’s ridiculous.”
“Maybe, maybe not.”
“Ok, so we’ll have rules. Topaz is a grey area, we can work that out.”
“We’ll think on it.” He yawned, and I was losing him. “I need to think on it.”
“Sure.” I squeezed his hand. “Just let me know when you know what you want.”
“There is one condition,” he said, and my heart stuttered. “Non-negotiable, if any of this is going to continue.”
“What is it?” I was nervous, so stupidly nervous.
“That I get to fuck Topaz’s ass before you do.”
***
Chapter Nineteen
Andy
I untangled myself from Faye slowly. She murmured in her sleep but didn’t wake, and I took a moment to watch her there, in my bed, her hair a tangled mess on the pillow, her pretty nipples poking out above the covers. She was beautiful. A beautiful, filthy, intoxicating siren of the deep. I grabbed my squash gear from the wardrobe, being careful not to bang the door. She didn’t hear me, didn’t even stir.
James was already waiting at the court. He was doing his warm up, his ripped hulk of a body raring to go. It always made me smile to see the man here, so at odds with the crazy fucking dominant performing in the mask every weekend. Fuck, how they loved him, the infamous Masque. I owed him some for the free entertainment, pulling the punters through the door for just a glimpse of him at play.
I dropped my bag on the bench and joined him in some stretches. The place was quiet, relatively, just a couple of guys smashing it out in a court a couple down from ours.
“I hope you’re ready to get your arse kicked today.” I smiled. “Last week I played like a pussy, this week you won’t be so lucky.”
“Last week you played like a man who’d had his backside tanned,” he smirked. “Don’t think for a second I don’t know what kind of limp that was.”
“You’re delusional,” I said.
“Sure I am.” His smile was broad and genuine. I liked James, he was my kind of guy. “Just keep running that mouth of yours, Morgan, and we’ll see who gets the ass-kicking.”
“It’s my win,” I said. “Suck it up, Jimmy boy, victory is mine. I can feel it.” And I did feel it until I reached for the racket and clamped my fist around it. Fuck, my fucking knuckles, they hurt like a bastard.
James raised an eyebrow. “Another sex-related injury?”
“Hardly,” I scoffed. “My fist had an unfortunate collision with someone who deserved it.”
“I hope they came off worse.”
“So do I.” I whizzed the racket through the air to practice and my grip held up. “Hardly a scratch.”
“Let’s see, then,” he smirked, and we were off.
James is a fucking good squash player. He’s nimble for his build and he’s strong, like a fucking ox. His reflexes are like a cat’s, but I’m slightly quicker on my feet than he is. I used it to my advantage, tearing about the court like a man possessed as we battled it out for a win. A couple of points in and we stopped to catch our breath. I took a swig of water and checked my phone. Nothing from Faye, but I wasn’t expecting anything. She’d never been great with mornings.
“Big night, then, next weekend?”
I nodded. “Birthday bash. Faye’s bag, fuck knows what kind of crazy shit she’ll come up with.”
“Didn’t you see the email?”
“Email? No, I didn’t. She’s not exactly desperate to keep me in the loop,” I said. “We have some power issues we’re still hammering out.”
“Hammering out quite literally, I imagine.”
I flashed him a look, not quite a smile, but enough to give him the picture. “Faye Devere is a monster to handle when she digs her petulant little heels in. No fucking sense, no fucking reason.”