I definitely needed the Club to take off the edge I was feeling. I was the last one to leave the office, turning off the lights and activating the alarm as I locked the door on my way out. My driver waited at the curb, holding open the door for me to slide onto the bench seat in back.
“Still heading to the Club, sir?”
I smiled slightly. The sound of that word would never get old. “Yes.”
“It’s been a while.”
I smiled tightly. “Too long.” The dearth of sex lately was starting to make me twitchy.
I leaned back against the seat and tried to relax as the car pulled smoothly away from the building. At the Club, I could relax without fearing I would be hit on.
“Will you be spending the night or would you like me to pick you up later?”
“A couple of hours should do it.” I had no Consort at the moment, which suited me fine. A couple of drinks and maybe an opportunity to watch someone else do a scene in one of the private rooms...
I had no desire to look for a regular Consort. However, as one of the patrons at the club, there were always a host of new arrivals from which to choose. So it might be the perfect time to rethink my views on a Consort. I wanted more than the usual vanilla sex most people enjoyed, but I definitely wasn’t into any extreme when it came to kink.
“Your uncle used the Club a lot to unwind,” my driver remarked as he pulled up in front of the building.
“Thank heaven for the Billionaire Club,” I said with a smile. “It may be what saves my sanity over the next few months.”
The driver smiled. “I don’t think your sanity would ever be in question, sir.”
“You might be surprised. Meet me in a couple hours. I’ll text you if I plan to be any longer than that.”
“No problem, Mr. Tamsin.”
The Club gave men of a certain means and proclivities the opportunity to find high-quality singles. My uncle had been my sponsor, enabling me to enter the club as a Patron. My bank balance hadn’t hurt either.
I stepped into the elevator, leaning back as it whisked me skyward. I was feeling more than twitchy. As hard as it was to admit, I was not only tired, I was lonely.
3
Finn
I blinked against the bright sunlight of Monday morning as I gazed at the façade of Tamsin & Jones. When I thought of corporate law, I usually envisioned glitz and chrome. Not what I stared at now. The only word I could think of was discreet. I guess that might be a vibe some of their clients would appreciate.
From my position across the street, I watched a few of the people entering the building. I assumed they were employees. As I checked out the tailored suits and dresses, I stared down at my own blazer and skinny khakis to my worn but polished loafers. Not much I could do about it. Couldn’t really think of many undergrads with bespoke suits lining their closets. I’d just have to get the lay of the land. Simon might have something I could borrow that was a little dressier, but a new wardrobe wasn’t coming anytime soon.
As I crossed the street, I mentally reviewed the racks of my favorite secondhand clothing store, trying to remember if I had even seen any suits hanging there. I surreptitiously wiped my palms on my pants legs as I opened the door and stepped inside the reception area.
Natural light filled it, making it seem larger than it actually was. Overstuffed, royal blue chairs were arranged in a couple of small groupings around low, golden oak tables. The cream-colored walls were saved from drabness by paintings depicting various scenes along the river that ran through the city. Tucked next to the stairs and made of the same heavy golden oak as the staircase, the reception desk dominated the far side of the room. From behind it, a guy, who appeared to be in his mid-twenties and sported a haircut and highlights I could never afford, glanced up at me.
“May I help you?” he asked, his tone polite and professional even as his glance seemed to sum me up.
Feeling a blush heat my cheeks, I managed to stammer out, “I’m Finn Blakely. The new intern.”
The man’s professional demeanor melted into a grin. “Oh hey. Great. I’m Matt. Gabby, that’s Mr. Tamsin’s assistant, said I was supposed to give you a tour of the building first thing. Just let me get someone to watch the desk here.”
I shifted a bit nervously as I looked around, wondering if I should sit down or keep standing. Matt was on the phone, his brow slightly knit in concentration. Before I could decide whether I should take a seat, he hung up the phone and flashed me another hundred-watt smile.
“Syd will be right down.” He glanced at my messenger bag. “You can stash that behind the desk here if you like. Come on around.”
If everyone at Tamsin & Jones was as friendly as Matt, maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all. I shoved my bag into the cubbyhole Matt pointed to, pocketing my phone as soon as I set it to vibrate-only mode.
“So what year are you in law school?” Matt asked me now.
“Um...I’m still an undergrad. History major.”
His brows arched nearly to the tips of his blond highlights. “Really. You must have had some good connections.”
I shifted a little uncomfortably. “One of my professors put in a good word for me. I didn’t really think I’d get it.”
“Well, it’s a great way to get your foot in the door.” He glanced over my shoulder. “Here’s Syd.”
I turned, half picturing the sloth from Ice Age in my head, but this Syd looked nothing like that. She was close to my height with long, blonde-streaked hair and wide green eyes. She extended her hand to me and smiled. “I’m Sydney Battle. You must be Finn.”
I nodded and took her hand. “I am. Nice to meet you.”
Matt started walking. “Thanks, Syd. Come on, Finn.”
The building was bigger than it appeared from the street. In addition to the reception area, there were a breakroom, bathrooms, and file rooms located on the first floor. The next few floors were reserved for paralegals and associates.
As we stepped into the elevator one more time, Matt grinned at me. “The top floor is for the big men...Tamsin & Jones...although rumor has it Jones may be getting ready to retire so the floor underneath them is like a shark tank right now with everyone maneuvering to get Jones’s office and maybe their name on the company letterhead.”
“Is Mr. Tamsin here?” My heart started to pound as I recalled his internet image. I would finally get to see if he looked even half as good as that picture.
“He’s in court this morning. I expect they’ll be back pretty soon, though. I think the hearing was just a formality.”
Was it possible to be simultaneously relieved and disappointed? That was how I felt. I also knew that it meant worrying about meeting him until it actually happened. Professor Wright had mentioned Tamsin’s name often enough that I felt the two must know each other.
“Come on,” Matt continued. “I’ll show you their offices and how the coffee machine up there works. I’m guessing you’ll spend a fair amount of time fetching coffee and files. It’s how most of the interns start.”
Like a dutiful puppy, I trailed behind Matt as we exited the elevator on the top floor. He showed me Jones’s office first. Inside it was more of the décor I would have expected. Modern. Minimalist. Heavy on muted shades with the occasional bright splash of color from contemporary abstract art decorating the walls. It was an office guaranteed to raise my stress level because it reminded me of my mother—hard, cold, and so orderly as to be obsessive- compulsive.