The Exposé 3 Read online

  THE EXPOSÉ 3

  By Roxy Sloane

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  Copyright © 2015 Roxy Sloane

  Cover Design: British Empire Design

  Cover Photography: Perrywinkle Design

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  CHAPTER ONE

  DAX

  Secrets have always been my strong suit. They bring me power. Control.

  As the owner of the most exclusive sex club in New York City, people trust me with their darkest confessions, their wildest fantasies. Without total secrecy, my whole empire is at risk.

  But when it comes to my personal life, secrets are the enemy.

  I need to know what people are hiding. I need to trust them with my life. And when someone lies to me, betrays the faith I put in them, that person is dead to me forever.

  “I’ll ask you one more time,” I say, my voice ringing with rage.

  I look at her, the one woman who has gotten under my skin like nobody else. The woman who almost made me lose control. But who it turns out has been lying and manipulating me since the very first moment we met.

  She looks so innocent. I came so close to trusting her.

  What kind of fool does that make me?

  “Tell me who the hell you are,” I demand again, furious. Just moments ago, she was coming in my mouth, moaning in ecstasy, but now— just the sight of her is making me dangerously pissed off.

  “Please, Dax, I can explain.” The girl swallows, afraid, looking around for escape. But there is none. It’s just the two of us alone in my apartment. Her drink on the table. My bedroom down the hall.

  I pictured tonight going very differently. Now, I can’t believe I ever let her set foot in this place.

  “You told me your name was Kate Kendell.” I fight to keep control. “You said you wanted the hostess job to make money while you interned in the city. But that was my head of security on the line just now. He says Kate Kendell is off volunteering in Africa, and has never even been to my club. So what the hell is going on?”

  “I...um... may not have told you the whole truth,” she babbles.

  Still naked under my bathrobe, her luscious body peeking through the fabric, she was about to get the fuck of her life. I was five seconds away from owning her, licking every part of her body til she came over and over again, but now I can’t wait to put as much distance as possible between us.

  But not before I get answers.

  I stride over and grip her arm tightly. “What’s. Your. Name?” I grind out with a clenched jaw. “Your real name, none of this Kate bullshit.”

  “Zoe,” she admits. Her eyes flash with fear. “Zoe Warren. It’s the truth, I swear. I’m sorry.”

  I don’t care about her apologies. “And who’s Kate?”

  “My roommate, from college,” she confesses, looking miserable. “I took her identity to get the job. I thought that if you knew my real name, you’d never give me the gig.”

  “Why not?” I keep hold of her. Zoe doesn’t reply. It takes everything I have not to shake the answers out of her. “I’m not fucking around,” I warn her, my voice low. “If this was some con game, I could call the police right now--”

  “No!” she protests quickly. “It’s not like that. The thing is...” She takes a deep breath, and finally meets my eyes. “I’m a journalist. At least, I want to be,” she adds quickly. “I’m working on a big story. I got the job so I could go undercover at the club.” She exhales, looking guilty. “I’m sorry.”

  I release her, turning away. A journalist? So all this time, she’s been snooping around the club trying to get information for some big exposé.

  I feel a chill. Just what is she planning to reveal? Any one of my members getting outed would be a massive scandal, the kind that brings down politicians or CEOs.

  “What information do you have?” I turn back to her, forcing myself to stay calm. “Who have you told?”

  “Nobody.” Zoe shakes her head vigorously. “I mean, except for my editor at the paper. But even then, I don’t have much. You keep everything under lock and key, so I don’t have my big scoop yet. I’m still trying to get my break.” She looks down, like she’s genuinely ashamed. I won’t fall for it. This girl has no remorse.

  “If you’re lying to me...” I step forward. She skitters back.

  “I’m not. I promise.”

  “Excuse me for not trusting the word of a lying, cheating snoop,” I spit back at her.

  Zoe looks up at me. “I really am sorry,” she says. “I didn’t plan on this.”

  “Which part exactly?” I ask, icy. “Seducing me for information? If you’re trying to convince me you have any sense of ethics, I’m afraid it’s a little late for that.”

  “Hey!” Zoe protests, folding her arms. “I didn’t mean to get involved, but you’re the one who chased me. And if you want to talk about ethics, screwing around with your employees isn’t exactly above board.”

  I glare. “Don’t even try to make this about me. Enjoying the company of a willing employee is nothing like fucking your way to a story.” Her face tightens and I know I’ve hit her where it really hurts. Good. “You lied to me, you manipulated me, and it was all so that you could dig up some dirt and get your fifteen minutes of fame. Don’t you realize this would destroy my reputation, my whole business? Or are you too self-absorbed to think beyond your own byline?”

  “It’s not like that—” Zoe protests again, her voice gone soft, but I’ve heard enough.

  “Get out,” I command her. “Get your things and leave, right this minute. Before I reconsider and call the cops. I bet they’d have a few things to say about you impersonating your friend. Fraud, for starters.”

  Zoe looks like she’s going to say something, but then thinks better of it. She picks up her clothes; they’re scattered across the floor, where only moments before we were stripping as part of a sexy game of truth or dare.

  Now, I realize how close I came to losing much more than a game.

  Zoe quickly pulls on her skirt and tank top, and zips up her boots. She looks around again, and I see her purse on the side table.

  I beat her to it and toss it towards the elevator. “This story of yours is dead, do you understand? If I so much as see a word in print about me or my club, I’ll—”

  “You’ll do what?” Zoe whirls back, looking pissed. “Is that a threat? Because I’ll quote you on that.”

  I narrow my eyes. “Read it however you want. But I have an army of lawyers, and you signed a non-disclosure agreement.”

  Zoe’s face changes.

  “You forgot about that, huh?” I give her a cruel smile. “The devil’s always in the details, Miss Warren. Say one word about anything you’ve seen at the club, and I’ll sue you back to the Stone Age. You think you’ve seen me mad? You can’t even begin to imagine the hell I can raise when I put my mind to it.”

  I would have thought she’d have the good sense to flee right then and there, but Zoe pauses in the elevator doorway. She pulls h
erself up to full height, and stares me down.

  “Just so you know, I wasn’t seducing you to get the story. What happened between us...that was all real.”

  Then before I can find another come-back, she pulls the grate shut, and descends out of sight.

  Damn it.

  I back up against the wall. I’m furious at her for lying to me for so long – but even more angry at myself for falling for her games.

  I pride myself on being able to read people, anticipate their every move before they even think of it themselves. It’s what’s helped me grow my business from one dive bar to a night-life empire, but right now, all that good sense counts for exactly nothing.

  Because I almost believe her.

  I go pour myself a stiff drink, and then another. Right from the start, something about her drew me in: that smart mouth, the stubborn smirk in her blue eyes. And the chemistry between us was unbelievable.

  At least, I thought it was.

  Now I wonder, was she telling me the truth? Or was it all just a lie to get my guard down? Thinking back over every moment we’ve spent together, the sexy hook-ups and hot-as-hell encounters at the club, I can’t believe she was pretending the whole time.

  No woman is that good at faking it.

  It doesn’t matter if her orgasms were real. She lied, manipulated, and plotted to reveal the secrets at your club. Imagine what would have happened if she’d gotten her way?

  No way. It’s unthinkable. My resolve strengthens again. Zoe, or Kate, or whoever the hell she is, just made her last excuse.

  She’s history.

  CHAPTER TWO

  ZOE

  I don’t know which is worse: riding the subway home with my underwear still strewn somewhere on Dax’s floor, or the feeling of total shameful guilt eating away at my stomach.

  No, it’s easy: the guilt is worse. At least the other people in the subway train don’t know what a scummy person I am. But when I think of the look of anger and betrayal in Dax’s eyes...

  I wish the earth would open and swallow me whole.

  I slink home, certain my guilt is written all over my face. I didn’t mean to get in so deep. My assignment at the start was simple: go undercover at the club, dig up a juicy story about corruption or illegal dealings, and secure the journalism job of my dreams. But one look at Dax, and I knew I was in trouble.

  And with just one touch, I knew there was no going back.

  I pull a business card from my pocket – I managed to grab it from Dax’s desk as he was throwing me out.

  Dimas Developments. There’s a handwritten note on the back: YOU KNOW WHAT I WANT.

  The handwriting’s not the same as the threatening note, so this is somebody else. Just how many threats is Dax juggling? And what do all these people want from him?

  Back at home, I can’t sleep; there’s too much running through my mind. In college, they drilled us about getting too involved with our sources. We’re supposed to stay detached and objective at all times. But you try staying objective when the sexiest guy you’ve ever met is pushing you down over his desk and making you come your brains out.

  I couldn’t help myself. The sexual connection between us was impossible to ignore -- and the last thing I expected was to actually like and admire the man. Behind that ‘master of the universe’ thing, Dax is smart as hell, driven and moral. I’ve never met a guy like him before, a real man who walks the walk instead of just paying lip service to ideals like integrity and trust.

  But that’s no excuse. I lied to him. He hates me now, he made that pretty clear. And after all that, I’m no closer to my story than before.

  I’m a total failure.

  *

  The next morning, I’m planning to do some epic wallowing, but a voicemail from my editor at the paper, Charles Granger, wakes me up fast.

  Hi Zoe, just checking in on your investigation. Swing by the office when you get a chance, I’d love to hear about your progress.

  My stomach drops. Oh shit. I built up the story to get him excited and secure that precious job offer -- and now I need to tell him I have nothing, that I’m left with zero angles. But there’s no avoiding him. My reputation is on the line.

  I get dressed and head into the newspaper office, bracing myself to share the bad news. I can only hope that Granger doesn’t ask too many questions about why the story is a no-go now. I may be just starting out, but I’m betting that confessing, ‘I slept with my source and now he hates me,’ isn’t the best way to secure a future job offer.

  As usual, the minute I step through the front doors, I’m hit with the buzz and activity of the place. All around me, reporters are working on stories, the phones are ringing, and everywhere I look, someone is typing away with a fevered look on their face, desperate to make their deadline.

  I breathe it in with a pang of longing. This is where I belong.

  Ever since I was a kid, I’ve dreamed of being a reporter. I used to write up hand-made newsletters about my family and our neighborhood, carefully writing stories about everything from Mrs. Kelington’s missing parakeet, to my older sister’s hot date. By the time I got to college, my ambitions were set. I worked my butt off to gain a spot on our prestigious student newspaper, and spent long nights in the newsroom writing articles and building a portfolio in the hopes of one day making my career at a place like this.

  I came so close. Granger was willing to give me a break and hire me if I delivered him a big story, and my undercover investigation at the club ticked all the right boxes: sex, secrets, possible corruption. I was on track to win everything I’ve worked so hard to achieve.

  And now, the party’s over. Not to mention the face I’ll be losing when all my college friends and my smug ex-boyfriend find out that the story I told them was already in the bag never even runs in the paper.

  I walk the hallway with a heavy heart, stopping outside his office. I knock.

  “Come on in.”

  I push open the door. Granger is meeting with a couple of junior reporters, surrounded by files and paperwork.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, awkward. “I can wait--”

  “No, we’re just finishing up here.” Granger beckons me in. He turns back to the rookies. “Make sure you get those quotes double-checked, and have the copy filed by nine. OK?”

  “Got it!” They close their notebooks and get up, shooting me curious looks.

  Granger smiles. “This is Zoe, she’s working a freelance piece for us. Zoe, these are a couple of my best junior reporters. They started out just like you, and now they’re a permanent part of my staff.”

  “Hi,” I smile, actually a little awestruck.

  “Hey.” The pair smiles in return. “Good luck with your story.”

  They file out. Granger hunts through his desk for something. “So sit down, tell me how it’s going.”

  “Well...” I perch on the edge of a seat. “The truth is, I’ve hit a roadblock. I don’t think I can keep working on the story.”

  “What?” Granger turns to me, looking surprised. “But it was going so well. I’ve been looking over your notes. There’s a ton of great stuff already, excellent background color.”

  “I know.” I feel a pang of regret. Even though I’m guilty about misleading Dax, I’m still proud of the work I’ve put in. “But my cover’s blown at the club. The owner found out my real name, and now he knows I’ve been working on a story.”

  “Shit.” Granger sits down with a thump. He frowns, thinking hard.

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “It’s my fault, I should have been more careful. I was getting close to some good stuff too,” I add. “Just the other night I saw a politician in there, a guy from the city council, I think. That’s what you told me to look out for, right? Ways someone might be exerting influence, or making themselves vulnerable to corruption.”

  “City council?” Granger’s expression suddenly changes. He gives me a sympathetic look. “Look, don’t beat yourself up. It happens to the best of us. To tell
the truth, I’m impressed you lasted this long. It shows you’ve got the instinct for this.”

  Some instincts. They got fried the minute Dax gave me one of his sexy looks, and suddenly, my story was the last thing on my mind.

  “I’m sorry I wasted your time,” I apologize, feeling even more terrible. “I really appreciate that you gave me the break. I hate that I let you down.”

  “Hey, hey, no need to talk like that.” Granger frowns. “You’re not going to quit on me now, are you? Politicians behaving badly are always hot news.”

  I blink. “But...I told you. My cover’s blown. The owner won’t let me back in there. And even if he does, the non-disclosures mean I wouldn’t be able to report on anything--”

  “You let our lawyers worry about that,” Granger cuts me off. “Public interest trumps all. And just because you can’t work the story from the inside, it doesn’t mean you should give up. A good reporter works all the angles,” he reminds me. “I’m sure you’ve picked up enough information to be able to find another way. What else did you learn about this politician?” he asks, sitting back.

  “Nothing yet, I only thought I recognized him. But Dax -- the owner -- he’s being blackmailed.” I say slowly. “Someone’s been sending him threatening notes.”

  “Good, good.” Granger scribbles some notes. “Personal, or business, you think?”

  “Business,” I answer, thinking fast. “He wouldn’t be sweating something personal, but the club means everything to him.”

  “So there you go.” He nods. “You can start there, with his business contacts and history. Look for links with this politician, too. Research may not be as glamorous as undercover work,” he adds with a grin. “But it’s where you’ll find the meat of your story. Good work.”

  “So…you want me to keep working it?” I ask, still not certain I’m understanding. I thought for sure he’d show me the door.

  “Keep digging,” Granger confirms. “Maybe you can find another source on the inside to talk.”