Longing: Club Inferno (18 page)

Anya had stuffed her phone in her glove compartment and forgotten about it. She didn’t want to talk to anyone. She just wanted to think. But she had to leave a callback number in the paperwork, and since she needed this job, Anya had no choice but to leave her phone on. They said they would make a decision tonight. She hadn’t thought to pack a bag, so she was going to have to go back to Couture at some point or else do some retail therapy.

She was driving around in her car, charging up the phone, when the first call came through. Activating her hands-free device, she answered the phone.

“Ms. Litton, we’d like to offer you the job. Can you be on set at seven
A.M
. tomorrow morning for hair and makeup?”

“Yes, thank you.”

Well, at least something was going right today. She had voice mail messages from Cesare, Nefertiti, Rita, and Clint. Definitely not in the mood for that drama. Shutting off her phone without even checking the texts, Anya decided to hit the mall. It was probably immature, but it kept her from going back to Couture for one night. She just couldn’t face anyone.

She spent the night in a cute boutique hotel, curled up on the bed eating a pint of Ben & Jerry’s. It didn’t make her feel as good as sorting through the lending closet. But the lending closet just reminded her of Clint, and that pain was too raw.

Tossing and turning, she tried to make sense out of what she had seen. Clint hadn’t been in the room. Sure, there could have been another exit out of the studio, but he always put his equipment away. Maybe they had just been fucking and not filming? But why the studio then? There were plenty of pleasure rooms in the dungeon. Anya beat the pillow and tried to get comfortable. Why did Clint change his mind about the money? Maybe an emergency came up and he needed it to bring his parents home.

She should call Clint. If she confronted him with her information, he wouldn’t lie to her. There had to be an explanation for all this. Anya lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. It took about five minutes before she grabbed her phone. It immediately rang as soon as she turned it on.

“Hello, Anya.”

She almost hung up on Rita. “What do you want?”

“I want you to stay away from Cesare.”

“What?” Of all the things Anya had thought Rita was going to say, this wasn’t one of them.

“I’m going back to Italy with him, not you.”

“What about the play?” Anya said.

“I didn’t get the part either, you stupid bitch. I figured I’d let you think that until I was back overseas. But then Cesare tells me that he’s not taking me back with him.”

“But the New York apartment?”

“I lied,” Rita shouted. “He’s leaving me high and dry and it’s all your fault.”

“How is it my fault?” Anya yelled right back.

“Because he’s on a quest to get you back. But he can’t have you.”

Anya’s head was spinning.

“He thinks he bought off that dumb stripper you’re fucking. And you’ll come running back to him.”

The fifty thousand.

“But I sent the message from Clint’s phone,” Rita said proudly.

“Why did you do that? I wasn’t going to leave Clint for Cesare.”

“Oh please,” Rita said. “There’s nothing holding you here now that the part’s gone to some blond bimbo with your tits and my waist.”

Anya wondered how the poor thing stood upright.

“I’ve got a sex tape of yours. You and Clint fucking like bunnies in his studio. I watched it. I’m surprised he didn’t need a wide-angle lens for your ass. How you didn’t break the chair is beyond me.”

“Fuck you,” Anya snarled, flashing back to the memory of hearing Clint come while she listened at the door. It had been Clint all right. But he had been coming inside her, not Rita. How could she have been so stupid?

“I popped that bad boy out of his computer and took it with me. So if you so much as go out to dinner with Cesare, I’m going to sell it on the Internet. You’ll never get a modeling job again—I don’t care how hot that YouTube video of you and Switchblade is. This one will top it all.”

Anya’s mouth dropped open. “You stole from Couture?” Colleen was going to send the leg breakers after Rita for sure.

“You’re damn right I did. I stole a bunch of DVDs. Someone is going to pay to set me up in the lifestyle that I’ve grown accustomed to.”

“I’m calling the cops.”

“Got proof?” Rita said. “Because these are going live as soon as I hear sirens. You got that, sweetie? Stay away from Cesare.”

Rita hung up.

Anya stared at the phone. She dialed Clint’s number.

“Where the hell are you?” he snarled into the phone.

“I—” she began to say.

“Did you get my texts? Rita stole my phone. I didn’t agree to dump you for money.”

“I know.”

“Rita broke into my studio. She stole my camera and some DVDs.”

“I know. She just called me to blackmail me.”

“She what?” The menace in his voice made the hairs on her arms stand up. “Where are you? I’m coming over there.”

“No, it’s way too late. I’ve got an early call tomorrow. I need to get some rest. All she wants me to do is stay away from Cesare and she won’t post the video on the Internet.”

“Stay away from Cesare anyway, but she’s not posting shit. The discs wipe if the password is entered incorrectly three times. She’ll never figure out the password because they’re dates and places of my first circus performances.”

“Then how come I heard her playing the recording in your studio?” Anya asked.

“It was loaded up on the computer. My bad. I didn’t lock it down before I walked away. But I didn’t expect any visitors. She just clicked on play. When she unplugged the camera, however, all the security reset.”

“So, she’s got nothing?” Anya asked. A wicked idea was starting to form in the back of her mind.

“Baby, she’s going to jail. Do you know where she is?”

“My guess is she’s trying to get back together with Cesare.” Anya gave him the hotel and room number.

“How do you know where he’s staying?” he growled.

“Why didn’t you tell me Rita hired you for a private dance at the strip club?” she countered.

Clint blew out a sigh. “Because it wasn’t important.”

“Truth or dare,” she said.

“It’s my turn,” he reminded her.

“Truth,” she said.

“How the fuck do you know that slimeball’s room number?” Clint asked.

“He told me. I went to see him last night to rip him a new asshole about trying to bribe you.” Anya braced for the explosion.

“You went alone?” He actually got quieter. It was kinda scary but sexy as hell.

“I ended it. Told him he’d never have me and to go away and leave me alone.”

“What happened?” Clint said.

“I didn’t get the part in the play,” Anya said sadly. She’d had such plans for that role. Tipping Ben & Jerry into the trash, she sighed. At least life would get back to normal.

“I’m glad. You deserve better.”

“Truth or dare?” she asked, the last details of the plot coming together for her as she watched the traffic outside her hotel window.

He laughed softly over the phone. “Dare.”

“Let me lay out the plan for you,” she said, cracking her knuckles.

About two hours into the job, it was apparent why Rita had passed it along to her. First of all, it was for plus-size clothes and that wasn’t her gig anymore. Second of all, the clothes were wretched. Anya would rather wear her grandmother’s tablecloth than half of this stuff. It would probably fit better. And the cherry on top of the shit sundae was that the photographer was a grade-A jackass.

“Look at me, sugar,” he said. “Pretend we’re making love on a bearskin rug.”

Anya snickered.

“You need to get serious, or you’re out on your fat ass.”

That was the last straw. “I don’t have to take that from you. You wear the dress. I’m gone.”

The professional part of her felt bad for not fulfilling the contract, but if she stayed she risked feeling bad about herself, and that shit was over. She was a model, damn it. A diva. So she walked off the set.

Grateful to be back in her own clothes, Anya squared her shoulders. She might not have gotten the off-Broadway play, but she was going to do some fantastic acting. Dialing Cesare’s number, she sat in her car and waited for him to pick up.

“
Cara mia,
” he purred.

“Oh, Cesare,” she said, putting a hitch in her voice. “You were right. How could I have doubted you?”

“I told you so, my darling.” He was such a smug bastard, she wanted to slap him upside the head.

Focus.

“I want to come with you to Italy. That is, if you still want me.” Anya lowered her voice to a sultry purr.

“It is all I ever wanted.”

“But what about Rita?”

“Forget her. The police came knocking on my door this morning looking for her.”

“Was she there?” Anya asked dryly before realizing she should sound more loving and less sarcastic.

“No, I haven’t seen her in days. Maybe she ran off with that stripper.”

“I don’t want to talk about him. He’s my past. You’re my future.” She put the back of her hand to her forehead in a mock swoon. Too bad he couldn’t see it.

“Where can we meet?”

Anya looked at her watch. “I’d love to see your penthouse again. Maybe we could have an early supper.”

“Excellent,” he crooned. “I’ll have everything prepared.”

“Is four o’clock good?”

“
Eccellente,
” Cesare said.

You bet your ass it is.
She texted the information to Clint and she had the rest of the day to herself. At four o’clock on the dot, she was escorted up to the penthouse and Cesare was waiting for her with champagne.

“To us, my darling.”

She clinked his glass. “To the start of a beautiful future.”

They drank deeply, and Anya moved to the window. “You have a lovely view,” she said.

“The view is even more seductive with you standing there.”

He poured her another glass of champagne and leaned over to brush a kiss on her forehead. “You smell delectable. Your perfume is arousing me.”

Anya was pretty sure he had been aroused all day.

The knocking on the door pulled him back. He frowned at it.

“Room service?” Anya suggested, and went over to the bar for the limoncello.

“I’ll take care of it. If you’d like to get more comfortable, there’s a silk robe in the bedroom.”

“Uh-huh.” Anya smiled.

Cesare opened the door and his knees wobbled. “Magdalena,” he cried, his horrified voice stark with fear.

Magdalena strode in like a queen. In another life, Anya would have hated her. But since Anya was the one who had gotten her on a plane from Italy last night, she figured she could be a little more generous.

“You must be Cesare’s ex-wife,” Anya said. “Or is the divorce not final?”

She spit out a rapid slew of Italian that Anya had a hard time translating. But she got the gist of it. Magdalena was pissed and had a mouth like a sailor. She punctuated her sentence by slapping Cesare so hard his jaw sailed to the side.

“Magdalena, please,” he said, hyperventilating.

“It’s okay, Magdalena. We’re going to be married. He said he would make me his countess.”

“He says that to every American
puttana
willing to spread her legs for him.
Pezzo di merda,
” she said, striking him on the head with her purse.

“Oh, Cesare, how could you? I thought you were sincere. How will I ever go on with my heart in pieces?” Anya sobbed for melodramatic effect, but it was mainly lost on Cesare, who was ducking and weaving in between begging for forgiveness.

Taking the bottle of limoncello with her, Anya closed the door behind her. Clint was waiting for her in the parking lot.

“Going my way?” he asked, leaning against Anya’s car. “I drove the countess here in her rental car. She makes Rita look like an amateur. My ass is black and blue from her pinching it and I was sitting on it for most of the time.”

“They deserve each other,” Anya said.

“We deserve each other,” Clint said, kissing her.

Nefertiti waddled over to the sign. “Añejo, huh?” She gave a sidelong glance to Istvahn. “I like tequila.”

Anya didn’t see Istvahn react, but something delighted the hell out of Nefertiti, because she laughed long and hard. Colleen was perched on the bar stool with a shot of the ultra-premium tequila Ley Pasión Azteca poured for everyone.

“That’s a quarter-of-a-mi
llion-dollar bottle of tequila,” Clint muttered in her ear.

“Nothing but the best for your soft opening,” Anya said.

“That’s what she said,” Nefertiti joked.

Mallory and Max walked in a few moments later. Max shook Clint’s hand, while Mallory went over to Anya and gave her a hug.

“We can celebrate your soft opening later,” Clint whispered in Anya’s ear when Mallory went over to see what her sister was doing.

Winking at him, Anya went behind the bar. She tried out her new bartending skills by shaking up some cocktails for the group. Clint was teaching her how to make tequila drinks after-hours. They drank enough to get silly horny and wound up screwing on the bar. Not that Anya was complaining.

Añejo wasn’t supposed to open officially until the weekend, so tonight was just friends and family. Clint’s parents were at the bar already, looking so proud of their son. Anya had been terrified to meet them, but his mother had looked her up and down and nodded in approval, and his father had hugged her.

“No babies until you’re married,” she’d said, shaking her finger at Clint.

“We’re on a five-year plan,” Clint assured her.

After Cesare and Magdalena had left for Italy, Clint was sure he would reverse the funds. But when six months went by and he never did, Clint put the down payment on the bar. He was frantic for the next few months, trying to strip, bartend, Dom, and start work on his own bar, until Anya put her foot down.

“Give up the stripping,” she had said.

“Most businesses fail in the first year. I have to have enough money to fall back on.”

“I have faith in you,” she told him.

Anya had been having a hard time finding another modeling job, though, after she told the photographer to kiss her ass. Luckily, Colleen was all fired up about Fierocity and building it up to be a huge success. They didn’t have a sales team or a buyer yet, but they’d added a plus-size line. Colleen’s enthusiasm was catching, and it wasn’t as if she couldn’t afford to throw money around on the project. Not only did Anya double her wardrobe, but she also became the face of the line. The YouTube video of her and Colleen dancing to Switchblade that had gone viral was the best free advertising they could ask for. Even if it had meant her agent, Trey, had found out she had been lying to him about her weight loss.
Screw him.

“Everyone,” Clint said, “I want to make a toast.” He smiled down at Anya when she gave a loud whistle that cut through the background. “Thank you all for being here. Today is the day I’ve been looking forward to for a long time.” He reached into his pocket. Anya’s face froze. That couldn’t be what she thought it was.

Clint flipped open the ring box.

Anya clapped her hands to her mouth.

“I love you. You’re the only woman who ever forgot I was a stripper.”

“A what?” Clint’s mother asked.

“And saw me as a person,” Clint said over his mother’s interruption. “I knew we would be together, but I hadn’t known I loved you until that moment.”

Anya’s eyes filled with tears.

“Will you make this day perfect and agree to be my wife?”

Anya threw her hands around his neck. “Yes,” she said, pressing kisses all over his face. “I loved you when you shoulder-checked Cesare in the restaurant. Of course I’ll marry you.”

The crowd cheered.

“Why didn’t he get down on one knee?” Clint’s mother asked.

“A Dom doesn’t kneel,” Nefertiti told her.

“A what?”