Seven Nights of Sin - Lacey Alexander [86]
“Thing is,” he said then, “we’re still not recording this guy.”
Brenna scrunched her nose in disappointment. “But they look…”
“Like they need the money, I know,” he said. “Only we’re in the music business, not the charity business, babe. That’s something you can’t be soft on, okay?”
He was right, of course, so she nodded. “Except…he’s good. Really good. Don’t you think? And he even has a nice stage presence.”
“But he hasn’t played one original song.”
“Doesn’t mean he doesn’t have them.”
Damon grinned, probably at how argumentative she’d suddenly gotten. “Tell you what. When he takes a break, you can introduce yourself. Give him my card but write your name on the back. Tell him to send you a CD of original stuff if he has it. How’s that?”
She smiled. “That sounds perfect.”
And it did.
As the guy quit playing, saying he’d be back in a few minutes, Brenna took a deep breath and approached him, leaving Damon on the perimeter of the crowd. When she told him she was from Blue Night, his crinkled-at-the-edges eyes lit up, and he flashed a smile showing he needed some dental work. After expressing her interest, she requested he send her a CD of any original music, and he thanked her, shaking her hand so hard it nearly fell off—at which point she glanced up to see Damon smiling at her.
“Nice work,” he said, sliding an arm around her shoulders as they turned to go.
“That was actually fun.”
“See? I told you—this is the best job in the world when you can make someone’s day—or, in some cases, life.”
“So what’s next tonight?”
“Well,” he said teasingly as he glanced around them at the blend of artisans and tourists, “we could get your caricature done. Or we could taunt one of the mimes. Or we could…proceed to your surprise.”
Going coy and confident at the very suggestion, she said, “This surprise—it’s sexual in nature, right?”
He nodded. “Of course.”
“Then give it to me, baby.”
Five
They caught a cab back to the Strip, on the way talking more about the business—and dear God, there was so much to learn that, at moments, Brenna wondered if she would ever take it all in.
Of course, they also flirted and made out a little. Enough that by the time neon-lit casinos towered on both sides of the car, she was thinking a lot more about doing naughty things with Damon than about music. Each time he kissed her, the sensations seemed to dissolve through her, making her breasts tingle and her pussy swell. The clingy fabric of her halter top rubbed against her hardened nipples with every move she made, adding to their sensitivity.
So, again, she didn’t quite notice where the cab turned off the boulevard—in fact, she was so busy twining her tongue around her lover’s that it caught her off guard when the taxi stopped beneath another of the large, neon-lit awnings that fronted all the big resorts. As Damon paid the driver, then led her into one more busy, ornate lobby buzzing with people, she wondered if they were visiting another stylishly risqué club like Rendezvous. But she didn’t bother asking, because she knew he would only cast her a chiding look and remind her it was a surprise.
They approached the concierge desk, where a handsome man in a dark suit looked up—then pushed to his feet. “Mr. Andros, welcome back.” He reached out to shake Damon’s hand, and as usual, Brenna stood amazed at how many people knew him—and clearly revered him.
Damon smiled easily. “Thanks, Richard.”
Richard’s gaze flicked quickly toward Brenna, then back to Damon. “Can I trust you’d like to visit our special club this evening?”
When Damon nodded, Richard smiled, then left the desk. “Right this way,” he said, guiding them across a whirring, clanging casino floor, until they reached a back corner of the room and a rather nondescript door marked PRIVATE, which Brenna would have assumed was a supply closet or maintenance room—until Richard inserted a key in the door’s lock. “Enjoy your evening,”