Exquisite Taste Read online

  “Oh, yeah, that’s right. I knew it was some sort of boy’s name.” Before I can kill her with my gaze, she turns her attention back on Christine, dismissing me. “So glad you could make it. It’s beauties like you we’re looking for in our house. I’d love to give you a tour, if you’re up for it. Unless you have to stay here and keep—”

  “I’d love a tour!” Christine beams, letting go of my arm.

  So, I guess that’s that. She doesn’t need me anymore.

  “Hey, you okay for a bit? Mind if I—”

  “Dude, totally go. I’ll just be here, playing the perfect sister, drinking their fancy pink champagne until you return.” I give Brittany a look, and she regards me with distaste before taking Christine by the hand and escorting her away, leaving me by myself.

  I take in the surroundings, and even though I was totally joking about the champagne, low and behold, I spot a counter full of it.

  “Jesus, this is what nightmares are made of,” I mumble under my breath as I walk deeper into the kitchen, searching for a real alcoholic drink. I spot the bourbon and smile, then offer myself a two finger pour into a pink Solo cup, because of course it would match the champagne, and slam it. Knowing I’m gonna need a strong buzz to get through this night, I refill my cup, then turn, almost colliding right into another girl.

  “Shit, sorry, I wasn’t—”

  “Paying attention? Clearly.” The girl, who I recognize from the other night, swings her perfectly dyed blonde mane over her shoulders, checking her dress for spills.

  “You’re Suzi, right?” I lie, knowing that’s not her name.

  “Sylvia. And you’re the girl with the strange name.” Brushing me off, she turns her head and offers a wide, fake smile to another girl walking by. “I’m actually surprised to still see you at these things. Didn’t picture you as the pledging type.”

  Well, at least we agree on something. “I’m not. I’m here for my friend. Not that I get what she sees in all this.” Sylvia watches me with narrowed eyes. I can sense she’s trying to figure me out. Find a way to talk down to me. Hurt me in a way that will make her feel superior. I want to quit the bullshit and tell her I’m no fool to people like her—mean girls who feed off other’s insecurities. Her confidence doesn’t faze me. It actually makes me chuckle on the inside. Because people like her? They aren’t confident. They’re the most insecure. That’s why they use the power they inherit in places like this against people like me.

  “Well, at least it won’t hurt as bad when we turn you down. Obviously, you didn’t think you would be accepted, right? You’re not one of us. Nor is there hope for you to become a sister.”

  It takes everything in me not to toss my drink in her face, but that would show my cards. She’s not under my skin, but near the open wound. I don’t need to be part of a cult to feel okay about myself, but it never feels okay to be rejected. “Oh, don’t worry. I can’t fathom having to waste my time kissing someone’s glittered ass just to feel wanted.”

  Sylvia’s facial expression fights off my remark. “Honey, I get it. We just aren’t your type of girls. I’m sure there’s a club somewhere on campus you can join. A girls girls club, if you know what I mean.”

  That one I felt.

  “And exactly what is that supposed to mean?” I bait her, daring her to say it. I am not opposed to hitting a girl.

  “Just that this might not be your type of thing. Us girls, we like…well, we like men.”

  I take a quick step forward, closing in on the space between us. I know my actions may affect Christine’s ability to pledge here, but she doesn’t need people like Sylvia in her life anyway. Lifting my hand, I slam back my drink and dump the cup, making it accessible to take a swing at her, when a group of girls come barreling through the back door.

  “Oh em gee! I cannot believe you found it! Let the games begin!” I look over Sylvia’s shoulder to the group of girls entering the kitchen. Some I remember from the other night. Sylvia takes the opportunity to step out of my reach and turns to her pack of wolves.

  “Oh, look who decided to make an appearance.”

  All the girls spin to her, their smiles dropping as fear settles onto their faces. “Hey, we were on our way over, but we got a call from Steph’s sister about the club. Turns out, it’s the right place! We drove by it, and sure enough, there’s an abandoned-looking door in a back alleyway. No signs or anything!”

  Curious what they’re talking about, I turn to Sylvia, who looks like the evil cat who just caught the helpless canary. “Are you sure it’s the place?”

  The girl, Steph, steps forward. “Totally sure. We waited for a bit and watched people come in and out. The way they were dressed, there’s no doubt. We found it.”

  “Found what?” I ask without thinking. They all shift to look at me, questioning my existence, until Sylvia turns my way and steps forward.

  “Trust me, this is nothing you’d be interested in. You’re lacking in too many categories for this kind of fun. Plus, I doubt you have it in you to enter a place like this.”

  I want to take her hair and rip it out of her scalp. Possibly shove my fist so far down her throat, she gags on my elbow. But I allow my mouth to run away from me. “For your information, you have no idea what I’m capable of. I’m pretty sure I’ve done and seen a lifetime more than your cute little doll club could imagine. What, you find some sort of secret sex club or something?”

  Sylvia laughs. “As if you know anything about a sex club.” Her entourage follows, giggling alongside her at my expense.

  “Well, considering I’ve been to my fair share of them…”

  A few of them gasp. And mentally, I do too. Because what the hell did I just say? I have no idea where that came from. One minute, I’m standing there not needing to prove myself to these mean girls, and then out of nowhere, I word-vomit lies. Fair share of sex clubs? Really, Jensen?

  All four girls, including Sylvia, stare at me, stunned.

  “Wait, so you’ve been to a sex club?” Steph steps forward, but Sylvia blocks her from getting too close.

  “I call your bluff,” she interrupts, crossing her dainty arms over her too tight push-up bra.

  Steph continues, more curious than a damn cat. “What’s it like? Is it like the romance books?”

  I shrug my shoulders as if it’s no big deal. “It’s nothing to call home about.”

  A sex club is nothing to call home about? Stop while you’re ahead! Ugh.

  “You lie. You’ve never been in one.”

  “Why would I lie?” Because, apparently, I want to lower myself to your level. “What, haven’t you been to one?” There’s an audible gasp from the others as I challenge their queen/at my challenge toward their queen. Sylvia stumbles on her words before she speaks. “I’ve been to clubs, don’t try to undermine me. But this is no ordinary club. It’s taken us all summer to locate it. Secret society kinda club. You must be chosen. And if you are, contracts are signed, if you know what I mean.”

  “Whips and chains, subs, doms, yadda yadda, so what?” I watch their jaws drop right before they berate me with questions.

  “Holy shit, you have been to one!”

  “Have you ever signed one? A contract?”

  “Are you someone’s sub? Do they hurt you?”

  “Have you—”

  “Enough!” Sylvia raises her hand, silencing her flock. Her spiteful eyes lock with mine, the hatred for me building with a fierce quickness. “Okay,” she begins, “if you say so, prove it.”

  Crap.

  “Prove what, exactly?” I ask in return.

  “That you’ve been to one. If you say you’re so capable, go. Get in. Get your hands on a contract and bring it to us. Prove you’re not a fake like your tacky knock-off dress and your act of actually wanting a guy over a girl. I dare you.” Her eyes blare with contempt. Mine bleed with hatred.

  “I don’t need to prove anything to—”

  “Actually, yes, you do,” she cuts me off. “You
see, I don’t believe you. I think you’re lying through your teeth, and I want you to prove me wrong. Or, in this sense, prove me right.”

  That I am, but I’m in too deep now to admit it. There’s also no way I’m entering a sex dungeon. I feel the eyes of her squad staring me down, waiting on my next move. Why did I open my fat mouth? Why couldn’t I just let it go and walk away from her? All that I stand for, and she got under my skin within seconds.

  “And you’re assuming I care what you think of me. Think what you will. I’m outta here.” I turn to leave, hoping beyond hope I run into Christine on the way out so I can snag her and get the hell out of there, but the sound of Sylvia’s icy voice stops me.

  “Prove it, or I’ll make sure Christine’s name gets blacklisted from all pledge lists.”

  I almost trip over my own two feet. I stop and turn to lock eyes with the witch herself. “She has nothing to do with this.”

  “She most certainly does. Seems your bestie wants nothing more than to pledge Beta Phi Alpha. How hurt would she be if she found out you ruined that for her?”

  “Sounds like I’d be doing her a favor.”

  “Doing who a favor?” We all turn to see Christine, smiling wide next to Brittany. “Whatcha guys talking about?”

  I want to tell her how evil this place is and that she doesn’t need these people in her life. I want to protect her and, even if she hates me in the end, know I did the right thing. But the smile she wears stops me.

  Sylvia steps forward. “Oh, we were just talking about pledging. Jensen was just telling us how much you want to become a sister at Beta Phi.”

  It takes all of me not to pull out the football moves my dad taught me and bum-rush her.

  “Oh my God, yes! I would love it here. This is like my dream house. You girls are all so awesome!” Again, my stomach drops with guilt.

  Sylvia continues to dig the winner’s knife in my back. “So, what do we say, Jensen? Up for a little field trip?”

  I STARE DOWN THROUGH THE two-way mirror of my office at the packed dance floor. The strobe lights bounce off the crowd as bodies grind into one another, allowing the music and libations to take control. Half of these people don’t even need a private room. Sex blares within the beats, drawing out their inhibitions and enticing them to lose control.

  The club is at capacity. It always is. Members, for as long as I’ve run the place, and even before, when my father held the reins, filter in and out, their true identity safe and locked up in my office.

  My eyes locate a group of college girls who make it into the main corridor, just on the outskirts of the bar. My fists clench, whiteness appearing on the once peach knuckled flesh. This is the third time this month Fredrick has failed to monitor the entrance. I would make it a point to fire him, showing all staff my rules are exactly that, but he’s been employed at Exquisite since my father ran the place. He would turn over in his grave if I let him go.

  I hear a soft click as the door to my office opens. “Damien, I wanted to let—”

  “I see them. How’d they get in here?” I don’t turn to address him. I’m sure he can see the displeasure on my face from the glare on the glass.

  “I was on break. James was covering for me. He must’ve let them in.”

  I’m not one for excuses. I don’t care to hear them, nor do I accept them. I’m a man who believes you should embrace your faults. It’s the only way to learn from your mistakes, misjudgments. How do you learn if you don’t acknowledge them?

  “I want James gone within the hour. I want these little brats out of my club even faster.”

  “Sure thing, Damien.”

  I allow him to exit just as he entered, not taking my eyes off the dance floor. I take interest in the group of girls, anticipating the moment when Fredrick reaches them, traps each one by the neck, and tosses them out of my club. It’s less painful than what I would do if I got my hands on them. The anger is back at the intrusion of people who think they can just enter my establishment with the curiosity of a dirty alley cat, wanting to know if the rumors are true. Well, if they found the place, they should have the answer they’re looking for.

  Exquisite is a private club for private members. If you’re here and do not own a membership, it’s because you were invited by someone who does. No one just walks in. You are specially chosen to access my club, drink my booze, and dance on my floor. If you aren’t invited, you aren’t let in. Do I see people within the crowd I don’t recognize? People who have successfully found themselves inside my club? Of course. And those are the ones I like to watch the most. They’re so eager to find a place inside my playground, they’ll do anything. And when I find someone eager to be molded, I make it my mission to ruin them—and not in a bad way. If you’re here in the first place, that’s your number one goal.

  You don’t come here to dance and have a few drinks. You come here to get lost in the vibe I offer—get punch-drunk on the lust-filled air. Exquisite is like a drug. People here beg to let go. Beg to become someone else. The teacher wanting to become someone’s pet. The judge wanting to be tied and choked for being bad. The housewife who wants to pretend she doesn’t have a family sleeping at home while she gets filled and fucked in every way possible until her body gives out. Those are the people who come to my club. Those are the people I allow in.

  These girls? Kids, practically. They want to brag that they’ve stepped into the unforbidden. I’m always tempted to take one of those little Barbie doll brats behind closed doors, away from the innocent petting and dance music, and show them what nightmares are made of. Maybe then they’ll spread the word that this isn’t a place for them and stay away. For their whole goddamn group to stay away.

  I watch as Fredrick finally makes it to them. Grabbing the closest girl, he brings his mouth to her ear. Her once flushed face begins to fade in color, and the others’ eyes go wild as they lift their hands in defeat, pleas spilling from their bubblegum-colored lips. Fredrick points to the door and begins to escort them out when the girl in the back breaks away from her group and heads in the opposite direction.

  My anger spikes at her defiance.

  Fredrick is too busy escorting our unwanted guests to notice. My twitching hand aches to reach down and grab her by the neck. Force her to stare into my gaze as I apply pressure around her throat and pull her hair into my fist. Feel her pulse race beneath my fingertips as she gasps in fear and exhilaration. I want her out of my club.

  My eyes follow her through the crowd as she makes her way to the bar. She’s wearing a green dress that doesn’t flatter her too-thin frame. Her heels add a few inches to her average height of five-and-a-half-feet tall, but she lacks the curves many members in the club seek. Unimpressed by her backside, I conclude she’ll be even less impressive from the front. I’m not sure if I’m disappointed or relieved. At least it will be easy to scare her enough to never show her face in my club without having the urge to touch her beforehand.

  Leaning over the polished wood, she catches Kade’s attention. He holds up one finger to finish pouring two stouts for Commissioner Stephens and makes his way to her. I can’t read her lips since her back is to me, but her tense body language sends off a vibe that she’s nothing more than an innocent kitten lost in a lion’s den. And she is about to request something way out of her league.

  I take a step closer to the glass, pull out my phone and dial the front bar extension. The phone lights up with an incoming call, but I doubt he can even hear it over the sounds of the music. Kade leans in and the girl cups his ear. A few seconds pass, and my curiosity spikes. What does this little girl want? Kade’s easy going expression drops, and his eyes shoot from her to the mirrored window above the dance floor. She’s mentioned something to do with me.

  He quickly pulls his attention back on her. He nods, turning to the ringing phone, and picks up the receiver. Before he has a chance to address me, I speak.

  “Send her up to my office.”

  His eyes shoot to the window once
again. “But she just—”

  “I have a line of capable bartenders dying to be in your place.”

  That does it. His mouth, open and ready to continue, shuts. No way does someone land a job here and leave unless they’re fired or dragged out. “Got it, boss.”

  We disconnect, and he turns to the girl. A few short words are exchanged. I envision he’s telling her how to get to the back stairwell. There, he’ll notify Arthur to let her up the private elevator leading to my office. And there, I will get another call to confirm. Another employee I’ll threaten if they question my orders.

  I eagerly await her next move, so I can get a good look at her face. I have no interest in her or fulfilling any of my much-needed desires, but it doesn’t stop my curiosity or my dick from anticipating. Kade nods, and with one last glance at my office, he twists back to the man at the bar. That’s when she turns. Her skin is pale in comparison to the done-up faces of her friends. Her lips are bare, her eyes covered in minimal makeup. I’m surprised by her simple appearance, but thankful her plain look does nothing for me.

  A few moments pass before the sound of heavy knocking on the door alerts me she’s here. My voice responds for them to enter.

  “Seriously, you can get your paws off me. I don’t need to be manhandled, you big oaf.” I turn to Arthur, his eyebrows dipping in annoyance as he escorts the girl into my office.

  “Listen here, you little—”

  “That will be all, Arthur.”

  “Damien, she’s under—”

  “Shut the door behind you,” I say, my tone stern. With one last glance, he nods, drops the girl’s forearm, and exits the office, shutting the door behind him.

  “Jesus, what sort of goons do you have working for you?” she snaps, rubbing her shoulder.

  “Ones that keep unwanted guests from entering my club. What can I do for you, miss…” I pause, waiting for her to address herself.

  “Jensen.”

  “Ms. Jensen.”

  “No, Jensen’s my first name.”