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Grey Cloudy Lies: The Club, #6
Grey Cloudy Lies: The Club, #6
Grey Cloudy Lies: The Club, #6
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Grey Cloudy Lies: The Club, #6

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What’s a girl supposed to do when she gets pregnant and the father of the child doesn’t want anything to do with the baby?

How about seducing the nerdy next door neighbor and making him believe the baby is his?

Cecilia Moreaux’s job isn’t exactly legal.  

She works for her aunt, Claudia, who owns The Club. They facilitate arrangements for wealthy men who want all of the benefits of having a mistress without any of the hassles of an actual relationship.

When Cecilia becomes pregnant, and the much older baby daddy wants nothing to do with their child, she doesn’t know what to do. She won’t be able to work at The Club once her aunt discovers she’s expecting, and the only other job she’s ever held was modeling in her teens and early twenties.

So Cecilia devises a plan to seduce her nerdy next door neighbor with the intention of making him believe the baby is his.

What Cecilia doesn’t know is that her neighbor has a secret that could cost her and Claudia their freedom.

GREY CLOUDY LIES is the final novella in the spicy, hot CLUB series. It can be read as a stand-alone or as part of the series.  

LanguageEnglish
Release dateJan 6, 2017
ISBN9781386717447
Grey Cloudy Lies: The Club, #6

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    Grey Cloudy Lies - Karen M. Bryson

    One

    I’m pregnant.

    I don’t mince words. I want Larsen Caswell to know that what he did to me had consequences. 

    He doesn’t seem fazed. He continues to stare at me with his cold dark eyes. When we met, the day he walked into The Club, I didn’t notice how dead his eyes were. That’s not like me. I generally notice everything about a person. In the business I’m in it’s important. If I allow the wrong person to set foot in The Club it could mean jail time for both me and my aunt.

    Larsen was so charming and attractive for a man his age. Not that I don’t see my share of wealthy and eye-catching older men on a daily basis. There was just something different about him.

    Knowing what I know now I think the proper term is sociopath. Larsen is charming, manipulative, and completely devoid of empathy.

    He straightens the sleeves of his perfectly tailored Armani suit. How much will it cost me to make this little problem of yours go away? His tone is cold and professional, as if he’s discussing a business deal rather than a baby.

    I stare at him for a long moment before I speak. I don’t want to say something that will make him angry. "It’s our problem, don’t you think?"

    He gives me a sleazy grin. I thought you were on the pill. Don’t girls like you take care of stuff like that?

    Girls like me? I spit. What is that supposed to mean?

    His callous laugh makes me want to take the butter knife in front of me and stab him right in the eye.

    Prostitutes. He says the word like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, and I’m an idiot.

    My eyes narrow. "I’m not a prostitute. Just because I work at The Club doesn’t mean I’m one of the girls. And they’re not prostitutes. Each girl is paid to be a mistress for just one client. There’s a difference."

    He moves in close, and in a much softer voice says, I was wondering why you were so tight when I fucked you. You fit me like a glove. I’ve never been with a whore who felt like that.

    I can feel my face heat with anger. The guy is a real piece of work. And to think I was actually fooled into believing he was different from the typical client of The Club.  We cater to the wealthy and elite. Most of our clients are middle-aged and in high power positions. We make arrangements for men who want all of the benefits of having a mistress without any of the hassles of an actual relationship. 

    Larsen isn’t like our typical clients though...he’s much worse.

    When Larsen walked into The Club for his first appointment I was instantly attracted to him, which is unusual. He exuded so much charm, and was so perfectly put together, and still very sexy for a man in midlife.

    He was irresistible. 

    He immediately expressed interest in taking me out. When I told him it was against company policy for me to date clients he tore up the paperwork right there at the reception desk and said, Problem solved.

    That weekend he took me to one of the most exclusive restaurants in Chicago. He ordered the most expensive wine on the menu and we ate blue cheese gnocchi and grilled salmon. The bill easily came to a thousand dollars.

    He insisted I go back to his place for a nightcap.

    I should have realized that when Larsen suggested a nightcap he didn’t actually mean another drink. I should have known better. When men want sex they will do almost anything to get it. When wealthy and powerful men want sex, apparently they don’t take no for an answer.

    I had been so busy working at The Club, helping my aunt, Claudia, establish her reputation in the industry, I hadn’t had time to date. Not that my dating life was so great when I was working fulltime as a model. I was in the industry from the time I was thirteen until I was twenty-three. I didn’t have a so-called normal adolescence. I never attended high school, so I didn’t have any rites of passage like homecoming or prom. I lost my virginity to a French photographer when I was fourteen. He was forty-two. I thought it meant something, until I started talking to other young models who had worked with him. He had banged every one of them.

    I wasn’t exactly a willing participant with Larsen. When he refused to wear a condom I told him I didn’t want to go any further. My rejection seemed to turn him on even more.

    I always get what I want, he told me. And if you’re not willing to give me what I want I’ll just take it.

    And that’s exactly what he did.

    This is the first time I’ve seen him since the night we went out.

    Sitting here on the patio of The Parkside Café in the midday sunlight I can see lines around Larsen’s eyes that I hadn’t noticed before. His dark hair also has little flecks of gray that aren’t as visible indoors.

    Maybe I’m just trying to find fault in him because I can’t stand the idea that someone so good-looking is such an asshole.

    He removes a checkbook from his suit jacket pocket then reaches for a pen. How much is this going to cost me?

    I’m having the baby, I tell him.

    He narrows his gaze at me. You’re willing to fuck up that hot body of yours just because of a little accident?

    I’m having the baby, I repeat with much more resolve. 

    My daughter is twenty-three. She’s in law school. My son is twenty-one and a senior in college. I’m done with kids. So tell me what it will take to make you go away.

    He gets to the point just like I do.

    I’m not going away. You will need to take responsibility for your child.

    Look, you little slut, he spits. Just tell me how much you want and I’ll pay you, but I never want to see you again.

    What kind of man wouldn’t want anything to do with his own child? This isn’t exactly how I imagined the scenario playing out. I didn’t think he’d be thrilled about it, of course, but I didn’t think he’d be quite so heartless.

    Do I even want someone like him in my child’s life? As much as this hurts, maybe it really is for the best.

    Five hundred thousand, I tell him without blinking. The cost to purchase a brand new condo in my area is about four hundred and seventy-five thousand. That would leave a little extra for furniture and stuff for the baby.

    When he stares into my eyes his cruel gaze chills me to the bone. This is a one-time payment. I won’t give you any more. Got it?

    I nod. Why do I have the feeling if I ever did ask for more money he’d kill me and not even blink?

    As soon as he hands me the check I rise from the table. I assume you’ll get the tab, I say before I turn on my heels and hurry away.

    ***

    The Club is located in a quiet neighborhood surrounded by law offices and financial advisors. The exterior of the building is inconspicuous and unobtrusive, for obvious reasons. Our clients are wealthy and well-connected men, who pay top dollar for our services. They expect discretion and confidentiality. 

    My aunt, Claudia, worked as a model for years. As she got older and started booking fewer jobs, the money got tight. Like me she started modeling when she was a teenager, and never got a proper education, so she didn’t have many options. She made an arrangement with an older man to be his mistress in exchange for a beautiful apartment, luxury vehicle and living expenses. She was with him for nearly a decade, until she wanted more and he refused to leave his wife. She decided she wasn’t going to let that happen again. So she found a way to accumulate her own wealth. That’s how The Club was born. She took what she learned from her own experiences as a mistress and turned it into a multimillion dollar business.

    As careful as we are with the girls we hire, and the clients we choose to work with, trouble still manages to seep through the cracks every once in a while.

    This time the trouble is completely my fault. I just don’t know how I’m going to break the news to Claudia. She’s extremely vigilant about birth control for all of her girls, and her strict policy has resulted in a track record of very few pregnancies for her clients.

    As her assistant, I’m the face of The Club whenever someone walks through the front door. It would be awkward, at the very least, if I was knocked up. It definitely doesn’t give the right first impression.

    I’ve been working for Claudia for the last four years. It’s the only thing I’ve ever done except modeling. I really don’t have the skills or education to do anything else.

    I know I’m eventually going to have to tell her the truth, or she’ll figure it out when I start showing, but now is not that time. Claudia can be very exacting. I need to work up to a conversation about my pregnancy. It won’t matter that I wanted him to wear a condom and he refused. It won’t matter that I said no to his advances and he advanced anyway despite my strong protests. Knowing Claudia as well as I do she’ll tell me it was all my fault. I shouldn’t have accepted his invitation for a date. I should have known that men can’t be trusted. I definitely shouldn’t have gone up to his apartment.

    She would be right. I should have known better. Now I’m paying the price for being naïve and impetuous. 

    When I open the door to The Club my heart starts to pound. I’ve never lied to Claudia before in my life. My aunt can read people better than anyone I’ve ever met. When your profession isn’t legal it’s a good skill to have. You know the old saying: You can’t con a con? It’s very rare that someone gets something over on Claudia.

    Maybe I shouldn’t prolong the inevitable. Maybe I should just come clean and tell Claudia the truth. I’m twenty-eight years old. I think I’m mature enough to be a mother. Once Claudia gets over the initial shock, then anger, then disappointment, she might eventually come around and even be supportive. Since my mom died we’re the only family that either of us has left.

    Even though it’s only seven in the morning all the lights in The Club are already on and we’re open for business. Claudia is here every day, all day and most of the night. She lives and breathes The Club. She never had children of her own, so her business is almost like her baby.

    I don’t care for the interior of The Club, though I’ve gotten used to it. It’s dark with heavy wood. It looks rich and elegant, there’s no doubt about that, but it makes me feel like I’m in an Old Boys’ country club. I’m sure that was the look Claudia was going for when she decorated the place, and her clients seem to feel at home here.

    The first thing I do every morning when I get in is to make sure Claudia has plenty of coffee. Then we discuss her appointments for the day. No one gets in to see her without an appointment. And she only takes referrals from people with whom she’s worked before. So far that system has kept us out of trouble.

    Claudia has never told me exactly how many clients she’s served over the years. She keeps very

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