Uncovered (Billionaire Romance) (Boston Buyer's Club) Read online

  I looked at the card in my hands. It seemed so simple.

  “I'm in. This is the judge's card; he told me to bring in to you. He wants to take me out to dinner, and then he mentioned a hotel room…”

  “Ah, yes, at the Roosevelt. He’s known for treating his girls quite well. You’ll like him. And inviting you to dinner on your first night? He certainly is enthralled with you.” She took the card from me, and used her phone this time to scan it. She then began typing furiously on a laptop. “You're going to need a mentor. I don't work with any of the new girls, but there is someone who does. If you need anything you will call her, not me. I am your business associate, your boss. Not your best friend. If you have a problem, you call Monique.”

  “Monique?” The gorgeous black girl from earlier? Shit.

  “Yes. She's one of the best. She knows exactly how to make the buyers happy, and she’ll teach you her ways. You will listen to everything, and do exactly as she says. She’ll meet with you tomorrow morning after your date.” She passed me a business card with Monique’s name and phone number.

  I sighed. “Got it.”

  She passed the judge’s card back to me. “There’s clothes for you upstairs in the dressing room. I believe you were up there earlier with Jessica. Change into something appropriate for dinner, and go to this room at the Roosevelt.” She scribbled down a number on a pad.

  “Do I take a cab?” I realized that I probably didn't have enough money for the fare.

  She shook her head and smiled. “Oh, darling, the girls here don't take cabs. We'll have a town car drive you. You will go there, and you will wait for him. He'll pick you up for dinner in probably an hour. I'll call him to make the arrangements. And don't be nervous. They can always smell fear on a first date.”

  I held a small piece of white paper in my hands with the number 421 written on it. I sat waiting for further instructions.

  “Sweetheart, you need to get moving if you're going to get there on time. Go,” she commanded.

  I nodded, and exited quickly out the way I came.

  I attempted to walk back through the club unnoticed, but when I turned to look at the far table, I saw that the judge was gone. I stood there for a moment wondering if he already left to meet me, or if the date was no longer happening. As I stood in the middle of the club, probably looking very confused, Hudson approached me.

  “So, I was considering giving you my card.” He had his left hand in his pocket, and the other holding his glass.

  “That's a shame.” I tried to channel my attitude from before. It seemed to intrigue him. And as cocky as he was, I wanted to peak his interest.

  He cocked his head at me. “Why?”

  I smiled. “Because I've already accepted another card for the evening. I told you earlier, Hudson, I'd already made my choice. Perhaps another time.”

  He took his finger, and dragged it along my forearm. He leaned into me and whispered, “I will have you.” As he pulled away, I stared into his deep brown eyes, and I felt myself falling into them. But I didn't have time for Hudson and his tricks, I had a date to get to. I pushed past him, and walked up the stairs back into the dressing room, where I found an outfit laid out at a makeup station with my name written on it. They worked fast. I changed quickly into the red dress that they had picked for me. It fell above my knee, and wasn't what I would call overly sexy, more of a classy look. I grabbed my coat from the closet, and ran out to the front doors where a black town car was already waiting for me. The driver held the door open for me, and closed it after he helped me in. He began driving without me even telling him the address. This business was a well-oiled machine, and I had just become one of its newest gears.

  4

  When I arrived at the Roosevelt, I approached the front desk with my coat over my arm. I wanted to look comfortable yet confident, like I belonged there. I had never been in a hotel this nice before. The marble floor and matching columns had probably cost a fortune. And there was a bellhop at every turn. Twice, I was asked if I needed assistance with my coat. I clutched it like it was the last thing I owned; it was the only piece of my own life that I was carrying with me. I was in the club’s clothes all the way down to my underwear; nothing of my own, besides my coat and my purse, had remained with me. I was a completely new person, someone just playing a part.

  “Room 421, please,” I said to the man behind the counter.

  “Ahh, Judge Paxton’s guest. Of course. He hasn’t arrived yet. Odd of him. I'm sure he'll be up momentarily. But please allow John here to take you up while you wait. And if you need anything, please let us know.” He slipped a key card across the marble counter. I took it, and held it under my coat.

  He smiled at me kindly, and a bellhop walked over to me and offered his arm. “Allow me to walk you up, Miss.”

  I smiled at both of them. “Thank you.” I took John's arm, and he walked over to the elevator, where he pushed the UP button. He allowed me to walk in front of him, and as the door shut behind him, he turned around to face away from me, so that we were standing next to each other. “You haven't been here before, have you?”

  I shook my head, and clutched my coat tighter to my chest. “No, I’ve never been here. It’s a beautiful hotel, though.”

  He looked over at me. “You're different than the others.”

  I attempted to appear confused, but I was sure that I knew what he was talking about. “I'm sorry?”

  He turned this time, so that he could look at me completely. “You're different than the others. Don't let them change that about you.”

  Before I could ask him what that meant, we were on level four, and he was holding the elevator door for me to exit.

  “It's the fifth door down on the left, Miss. Have an excellent evening.”

  I emerged from the elevator slowly, but as soon as I turned around, rethinking my decision, the silver door shut in my face. The hallway was empty. I was alone. I walked down the hallway to room 421, and I used the key that they had given me at the front desk to enter. I walked into a room with white carpet, white walls, and an entire wall full of floor to ceiling windows. I dropped my coat on the floor, and my purse by the door, as I admired the beautiful landscape in front of me. I could see all of Boston from here. It was breathtaking.

  There was a bottle of wine and two glasses sitting on the coffee table; it had already been opened for me. I poured myself a glass, and sat in the white chair looking out over the city's landscape. I admired the twinkling lights as they told me stories that would never be spoken out loud. Friends meeting for dinner, lovers meeting for late night trysts, and parties going on that wouldn’t end until dawn. There were all these other little worlds out there that I knew nothing about. But, suddenly, I had been thrown into a world I didn't even know existed, and the thrill of it all was like a high that I couldn't get enough of.

  My glass emptied quickly, and so I poured myself another. I figured that at any moment, the judge would come in, and we would leave for dinner at some lavish restaurant. The Madame said it would be under an hour, but it seemed like a lot more time than that had passed. I sat in the chair, continuing to watch the landscape, until my eyes started to close from the wine. I wanted to set my cell phone to go off on an alarm, to just take a quick power nap, but my phone was so far away back by the door, and I was so comfortable in the chair. I must've nodded off to sleep.

  I heard a knock on the door that stirred me awake. I stood up so fast that I dropped what was left of the wine in my glass on the floor. Luckily, the glass itself didn't break. I grabbed it, and put it back on the coffee table before smoothing out my dress, and trying to appear as though I hadn't been sleeping. I checked myself in the mirror, and quickly grabbed my coat and purse from near the door, and put them on the chair that I had been sitting in. I didn’t want the judge to think that I had been bored waiting for him. The knocking grew louder.

  “I'm coming!” I took one final deep breath, as I walked back to the door and put my hand on t
he handle. I opened it with a bright smile on my face, trying to appear calm even though my insides felt like they were on fire.

  But the judge wasn’t at the door. It was a young man in a dark brown jacket, and he had a serious look on his face.

  “Is this Judge Paxton’s room?”

  I nodded, my confidence gone.

  “And you are?’

  I gulped. I was about to get caught on my first night. “An acquaintance.”

  He smiled. “Sure.” His phrase dripped with sarcasm. “May I come in?”

  “Not until I know who you are.”

  “I'm Detective Barton, and I think there's something you need to know.”

  Shit. Not only was I caught, it was by a cop. This could be the end of everything.

  “What's that?” I prayed the judge would come up behind him, and clear all this up. Any moment, I would see his figure coming down the hall.

  “Judge Paxton is dead.”

  I leaned against the door, as my eyes widened with fear. I hoped it would hold me up. “Dead?” I had just seen him an hour ago, or had it been longer than that? He had seemed fine at the club.

  “Murdered.”

  ###

  Stripped

  Boston Buyer’s Club Book 2

  1

  I felt the cold metal table against my forehead. “Do we have to go over this again?” I covered my eyes with my arm. I was whining, and I knew it. But I didn’t care. Not anymore. I was so exhausted that nothing really mattered. If they were charging me, they might as well do it.

  “Yes. Now sit up.”

  “I can't. I'm tired. And still a little drunk.” I decided that once you entered an interrogation room, honesty was actually the best policy. Except about the fact that I may or may not have been an escort. The Boston Buyer’s Club was kind of like Fight Club. Number one rule: there was no Boston Buyer’s Club. And I could tell what this detective was trying to get at. He only asked me a few questions about the judge, but he asked me about my activities that evening at least three times. I was tired of going over the story again and again. It hadn't changed. I met the judge at a local bar during cocktail hour, and he invited me to his room. I planned on meeting him at the hotel, but when I arrived, he wasn’t there yet. I was let into the room where he had champagne set up, I drink a little too much, and then the detective showed up. I honestly had nothing to with his murder. I didn't know how many more times I could say it.

  “I don't know anything,” I mumbled.

  “If I need to bring the captain in to continue to question you, I will. And he's not as nice as I am.”

  My head shot up. “Is that right? I will have you know I have every intention of becoming a lawyer, and I know you cannot threaten me. Also, when the hell can I get my phone call?”

  I had no idea who I was going to call, but it didn't matter. I was supposed to get one, and I was sticking to my guns. My two options were Alexis, who would completely lose it when she found out I was in jail, or Monique, who I was going be a problem for before even before I finished my first job.

  Suddenly, the door opened, and instead of me seeing an older burly looking man, their captain, I saw a beautiful confident woman.

  “I see that you have one of my girls in your custody. I can’t imagine that she's done anything wrong, detective. This all seems like harassment to me.” Monique wore a business suit, and it seemed like all the air was sucked out of the room. I didn't even think I could talk.

  “Looks like you don't even need that phone call,” he spat out at me. “Monique.” He nodded towards her.

  “Stephen, I should've known it was you.”

  I looked at her. “How did you even know I was here?”

  She smiled at me sweetly. “Oh, honey, the judge’s murder is all over the news. Though I can't imagine why you're here, actually.” She looked pointedly at the detective. “Because you’ve had hardly any interaction with the judge tonight. And there's one more thing that really eludes me about this conversation. Motive.”

  The detective stood up, and folded his arms. “And you know someone who has more motive than her?”

  Monique set her purse down on the table; it looked more like a briefcase. Made me wonder if she had some sort of law experience, and that's why she was here. Or if she was here because she was in charge of me, and I was her problem to solve.

  “Oh, you mean like his wife?”

  “His wife?” I choked out. “I didn't know he had a wife!” I put my head in my hands again.

  Perfect. Now there was someone else who was going to try to jump up and down on me. Someone besides both Monique and the detective. My first night was shaping up to be probably the worst I would ever have. At least I was going to get it over with now.

  “And what would his wife want him dead for?”

  Monique pointed her nose up in the air. “Oh, I don't know… a three million dollar payout? I mean that is an awfully high life insurance policy. Especially since it was only taken out three months ago. And we all know that the judge had more than one side girl.”

  The detective pointed at her. “Ha! You admit that she's a call girl.”

  Monique shook her head, her long hair swaying back and forth. “I admit no such thing.” Then, she moved closer to him, so that they were mere inches apart. “Also, I hate to remind you, Stephen, but I know more about your men out there than you do. I know where they lay their heads at night, and where they drink after work. And I know everything that their wives don't. I could out seventy percent of your precinct if you wanted me to.” She moved away from him, and turned her back on both of us. “Or, you could just allow my client to leave.” She turned around, and looked at him again. “And never bother her again. Obviously, she's distressed by this tragedy, of what happened to a man she just met. There's no reason to upset a young girl any further. Isn’t that right, Detective?”

  I was impressed. I sat back in my chair, feeling slightly relieved.

  “I don't make any promises. Just get the hell out of my interrogation room.”

  I looked at Monique, and she nodded, grabbing her bag, and opening the door for me. My belongings were waiting at the desk in the front, so I quickly grabbed them, and followed her out into the parking lot. An officer held the door open, and Monique winked at him as we left.

  “Holy shit! That was awesome. Are you like a lawyer for the club or something?”

  Monique turned on me, her skin becoming a deep purple. “Don't you ever make a mistake like that again! My girls only ever get one mistake. And then I drop you. Do you understand me?”

  I nodded. “But I really don't know what I did. I had nothing to do with him getting murdered, I promise.”

  “I know. And honestly I'm really sad about the judge. He was one of the good guys. You have just got to be more careful. Someone knocks on the door? You don't answer it. Because you were never there. Somebody breaks in? You always have an escape route. You have to be stealthy; we live in the shadows. It's the only way to stay safe. The only way to keep our secret.”

  I nodded again. She seemed genuinely concerned about my well-being. Or maybe the Madame had told her that if I got in trouble, or even worse, killed, that I was going to be her problem to deal with. And I could tell that Monique had gained a lot of respect in the club. I wasn't trying to lose her any of it on my first day at work.

  The sun was just about to rise, as she opened her car door. I had just pulled out my phone to call a cab.

  “So, where do I take you?” She stood with the door open.

  I shrugged. “You’re going to drive me?”

  “I came to get you, didn’t I?”

  “I guess home? Or do I go back to the club?”

  She shook her head, “No, you don't report back until Thursday night. We only work Thursday, Friday, and Saturday. What's your address?”

  I told her to her, and she typed it in the GPS. We took off in her Mustang seconds later.

  “So, how long have you been there?”
>
  “At the club? Three years. I used it to pay for law school.”

  So she was a lawyer. Impressive. “Are a lot of girls just there while they go to school?”

  She shook her head. “No, most of us veterans stick around. The Madame’s service is the longest running escort club there is, and most of us can stick around for five or six years before we get too old, and age out. I figure, I've still got at least two more. Plus, I have regulars, so if they want to continue to occupy my time, there's always a bargain to be struck.”

  “Yeah, I guess there is. How did you know the detective?”

  She smiled. “He's been trying to get into the club for years. He just wants to nail one of us, so that way he can come in, and pay for our time. He’s literally dying to get in. But the Madame has strict rules about detectives and cops; they're not allowed in, even if they're dirty. You never know when their moral compass is going to overtake them. We can't be too careful.”

  “Then, why did you say you knew all those guys?”

  “For the most part, it was an over exaggeration. But we have some girls who go off the books, make their own rules. I'm certainly not one of them; it’s too risky. But for the girls who don't stay around very long, they find their own clients, and they don't care who they are. Those are the ones who usually get caught for prostitution though. The Madame takes care of those of us who stick around and play by the rules. However, those girls are chatty, so we know lots of information we shouldn’t.”

  As we pulled into my apartment building's parking lot, I realized that I had had a hellish night, and didn't have a single penny to show for it. I was going to have to go back later that week. I had to pay my rent.

  “So, I guess this whole situation killed my paycheck for this week. Sucks.” I looked out the window, and watched the building that would clean out my bank account.