“And the information I asked you to note chronologically for the meeting?” she asked.
“I’ll have that for you in less than an hour,” I promised. I wasn’t sure how feasible that really was, but I was going to try.
“Since you were working late on the case, I’ll cut you some slack this one time.” Mimi pursed her lips and gave me a once-over. “Please tell me you at least have a change of clothes so you’re not looking all rumpled in the meeting.”
I held up the little black bag in my hand. “I was just heading to the bathroom to change.”
Mimi nodded. “Good. The meeting’s in ninety minutes. Have those notes with you when you come to the big conference room. And I’ll expect the reports on Howard’s women by the end of business today.”
I nodded, eager to get started. When she turned, I hurried away.
New clothes and a little over an hour later, I was on my way to the conference room with the information Mimi had wanted in my hand. It had been crazy to get it together that quickly, but it was surprising sometimes just how much a person can do when they’re motivated enough.
The meeting ended up running all the way to lunch, thanks to the opposing counsel, who appeared to be older than the law profession. He moved more slowly than anyone I’d ever seen before and before we were halfway done, I found myself wondering if he’d taken the fable of the tortoise and the hare to heart as a child. By the time everyone left and I finished tidying up the documents we’d spread across the table, I was starving. I’d eaten a good breakfast, but I’d also been very... active.
A small smile played across my lips as I allowed myself to remember what a great morning I’d had. It had been difficult not to let my mind wander during the meeting, so it was a little reward to myself to give in and enjoy a few moments before joining my friends for lunch. We made small talk as we ate, but it was clear that my relationship with Gavin was the real point of interest. I answered what I could without giving away what I thought Gavin wouldn’t be comfortable sharing. Fortunately, they were more than willing to be distracted by me talking about my sex life.
It wasn’t until we were riding the elevator back up to our floor that Dena asked the question I knew they’d all been wanting to ask. I had to admit, I was a bit surprised that she was the one who said it. She was the quiet one of my friends, the one who most easily faded into the background. Not because she wasn’t beautiful enough to be noticed, but because she didn’t have Leslie’s or Krissy’s flash. She never drew attention to herself and seemed to enjoy it that way.
“I have to ask, is this all about sex or is this something more?” Her pale eyes were serious, her expression one of concern. “I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
I smiled down at her. I wasn’t tall, but Dena was the definition of petite. “Gavin and I haven’t really had ‘the talk,’ but it’s definitely more than sex.” I gave her a sideways hug. “There’s a connection between him and me that I’ve never had with anyone else.”
“Just be careful,” she cautioned.
“I will,” I promised.
The doors opened and the moment was broken. It was time to get back to work. I headed back to my desk, working on refocusing on what I had to do next. I’d glanced at the files Gavin had given me, but hadn’t really examined them. It was time to do that now.
It took me about five minutes to realize a similarity that had escaped me yesterday. All of the pictures in the files were professional. The poses, the quality, the lighting, it all spoke of someone who knew what they were doing. All of these women were taking model shots.
And that was the second thing I noticed. Even though every document I found stated that the women were at least eighteen years of age, a good third of them looked younger. Not just maybe a couple of months shy of being legal, but some looked like they were barely fifteen or sixteen.
Now, I knew there were some women who looked younger than their actual age. Dena was a perfect example. She was actually the oldest out of the four of us, having turned twenty-five nearly six months ago, but she still got carded when she tried to buy alcohol. If she’d dressed younger, I could’ve seen her passing for eighteen, maybe even sixteen.
That was when it hit me why the pictures of those younger women were making me so uncomfortable. If they were, in fact, eighteen or older, they’d intentionally been dressed to look younger. They didn’t look like children, but whoever’d taken the photos hadn’t done anything to give them the appearance of an adult. They looked like girls, not women.
It seemed as if the more I found out about Howard, the less I liked him. I wasn’t sure what that was going to mean for me and Gavin, but I did know that it didn’t bode well for Mimi’s case. I needed to talk to some of these girls and find out how much damage control we needed to do.
I began to scour the documents for contact information, but there were no phone numbers, no addresses, no emergency contacts. No Social Security numbers were listed, and the birth dates alone would never give me what I needed, especially not if half of them were false, as I was beginning to suspect they would be. The names weren’t going to be any help either. I’d done enough Internet research over the years to know how many hits would come up with a name that was anything less than unique. These girls were Jessica and Jennifer, Sarah and Allison. Even the ones with the more original names of Monique, Callie, and Tricia had last names that would give me hundreds of hits, and that was if they were from New York. If any of these girls had come in from another state, I’d never find them.
I’d just about given up when a name caught my eye. Patricia Vinarisky. The first name wasn’t completely unique, but with that last name, it just might be enough.
I pulled up my web browser and typed in the name. Over three hundred results nationwide. Okay, that wasn’t too bad. I just needed to narrow the search. It was possible that she wasn’t from New York, but I was going to start here anyway. A moment later, three matches popped up. Much better. One link led me to a Patty Vinarisky who most definitely not the girl in the picture, since she’d been born closer to the turn of the last century rather than this current one. The second took me to a phone number listed for a Frank Vinarisky. The third hit a dead end. Since I couldn’t do anything about the last one, the second one was the only chance I had.
I picked up my phone and dialed the number. After two rings, an automated message told met that Frank Vinarisky wasn’t available and that I should leave my name, number, and a brief message.
“Mr. Vinarisky.” I kept my voice brisk and business-like. “My name is Carrie Summers and I’m trying to reach a Patricia Vinarisky. If you know Ms. Vinarisky, could you please call me?” I left my number, saying it slow enough that I didn’t need to repeat it.
I sighed as I hung up. Now all I could do was wait.
Chapter 14
While I was waiting, I began compiling the other information Gavin had given me. Mimi was going to pitch a fit about this. Aside from the personal ramifications, she was going to be pissed when she saw what these were going to do to our case. If Howard’s wife’s attorney had even a fraction of this, we were through.
Before I could get too immersed in my work, my cell phone vibrated. I glanced at the screen, and my stomach did a flip when I saw Gavin’s name. I figured the call was personal in nature, but since he did consult for a client, I felt only the slightest twinge of guilt when I answered.
“Hi.”
That single word shouldn’t have been able to thrill me as much as it did. “Hello.” It was difficult not to lower my voice and make the conversation more intimate.
“I’m so sorry, Carrie,” he began. “Howard just called me and told me that I have to go to Miami next weekend. There’s a business meeting of some kind at his mansion on Star Island.”
“Oh.” I tried not to let my disappointment color the word too much, but he heard it anyway.
“I am so sorry,” he repeated. “I really wanted to go away with you.”
“Me
, too.” I hoped he didn’t think I was pouting. There was no way I could tell him the truth, not here, and if I got up, I’d attract attention.
There was a moment of silence, then he asked, “You’re at your desk, aren’t you?”
“Yes.” I glanced around, but no one was looking at me.
“So you can’t really react or respond to anything I say, can you?”
I made a noncommittal noise. He chuckled, and the sound made me forget that I’d be spending next weekend alone rather than snuggled up with him in some romantic getaway.
“Then I guess you can’t react when I say that I can’t stand the thought of being away from you for that long, and I want you to come with me.”
My heart did a funny little skipping dance.
“And you can’t respond when I tell you that I’ll only be working for a couple of hours and I want to spend the rest of our time split between the private beach and a very lavish guest room.”
I searched for something innocent I could say. “That, uh, sounds good.”
He laughed again. “Trust me, Carrie, what I want to do with you, to you, is so far beyond good.”
My breath caught and it was all I could do not to make an embarrassing sound.
“I can’t wait to stretch you out on the beach, rub lotion over every inch of that creamy skin of yours.”
I closed my eyes, pressing my lips together.
“Maybe I’ll even slide my hands underneath your top, make sure those beautiful breasts of yours don’t get burned.”
Okay, closing my eyes was making it worse because now I could visualize what he was saying.
“Would you let me kiss you, cover your body with mine?” His voice had taken on that husky sound that it got when we were in bed together. “What if I pushed aside that thin strip of fabric that covered you, slid my finger into that tight, wet heat?”
Fuck. What was he doing? What was I doing? I could feel my entire body heating up.
“Would you let me take you, right then, right there on the beach? Fuck you out in the open–”
I jumped when my office phone rang. A wave of relief mingled with disappointment washed over me. “I have to go, Gavin. I need to take that call.”
“Okay.” He sounded amused. “But I’ll want answers to those questions.”
I grabbed for the receiver even as I ended the call. My mind was so muddled that I completely forgot to say the business line in greeting.
“Hello?”
“Carrie Summers?”
It was an unfamiliar man’s voice.
“Yes?” I desperately tried to clear the hormone-induced fog in my brain.
“This is Frank Vinarisky.”
“Oh, hello, Mr. Vinarisky.”
Before I could say anything else, he cut in. It was only then that I recognized the tension in his voice.
“How do you know Patricia? Have you seen her?”
“Seen her?” I echoed his words, not understanding.
“I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, Ms. Summers, but I don’t have the time or patience for it. What do you know about Patricia?”
“I’m not following, Mr. Vinarisky. I’m sorry. I was calling to speak with her.”
He gave a laugh so bitter than I winced. “That might be difficult, Ms. Summers, since Patricia’s been missing for more than two years.”
End of Book 3
Follow the passionate story of Carrie and Gavin in Club Privé—Book 4, coming May 23th
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Acknowledgement
First, I would like to thank all of my readers. Without you, my books would not exist. I truly appreciate each and every one of you.
A big “thanks” goes out to all my Facebook fans, beta readers, and advanced reviewers. You are a HUGE part of the success of this series.
About The Author
M. S. Parker is the author of the Erotic Romance series, Club Privé.
Living in Southern California, she enjoys sitting by the pool with her laptop, writing her next spicy romance.
This book was a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2014 M.S. Parker
Published by M.S. Parker Romance.
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner.
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of the trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
M. S. Parker, Club Privé: Book III
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