“Pippa Bloom, the woman, started off as a matchmaker for the rich and powerful. But it soon became clear that these gentlemen really wanted an easy hookup without all the stickiness of a relationship or the illegality of paying for sex.”
“Isn’t that how it’s always been?”
“Yeah, but she’s the one who made the connection and found a way to provide this easy, high-class hookup service. So she formed a club. It’s like Tinder for the wealthy. Members are vetted; attractive men and women are procured. They all know the score.”
“I don’t really want to side with anyone who’s out to hurt Dex, but I still don’t see what’s so bad about that.”
Violet makes an annoyed sound. “The club promotes cheating. They play up the taboo of fucking around on your spouse, marketing mostly to men. And they do cheap shit like this stunt with Dex to get publicity.”
“Fine, Pippa Bloom is cockwomble—
“What?” Violet laughs.
My lips twitch. “A very bad person. A twat.”
“I love when you break out the Brit.”
I acquired quite the cursing education during my summers in London.
“It happens when I’m hella pissed. But to speak in good ol’ American, she’s a punk, sleezoid, insert rage-filled adjective here.”
“Name-calling is well and good, but I’m going to bring that bitch and her club down.” Violet’s tone is hard and determined.
“I don’t see how.” I tap my pen on my desk and stare off. “It doesn’t matter, anyway. Dex matters. I need to talk to him.”
“It matters to me. This shit tore my parents apart. Now your man is a target? Hell no. Enough is enough. She’s going down.”
The thing with Violet is, I know she could do it. Behind her sunny smiles and foul mouth, Vi is a computer genius. From an early age she’s lived and breathed computers. Now, at age twenty-one, she’s a highly paid network securities consultant. Which means she also has the knowledge to go dark.
“Fine, go scorched-earth on her. Just be careful. I don’t want to see your ass wearing orange. I don’t care if it’s the new black.”
“I’d find a way out.”
Her confidence is not comforting. I run a hand through my hair and sigh. “I gotta go…”
“Find your man and give him comfort, Fi-Fi. Let me worry about damage control.”
I really don’t want to imagine Violet’s version of damage control. Better to remain ignorant in case of criminal proceedings. And right now, I have to concentrate on my own version of damage control.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Dex
Having never been in the limelight before, I can say that it flat-out sucks to suddenly be thrust under its glare. At first, I don’t know what’s going on. Why are cameras aimed at me? I get the occasional picture taken, but I’m a center. I’m not news. I do my job and support the team.
This fucking flash-blitz that blinds me as I leave practice? Never happened before.
And then come the shouts.
“Dexter? Dexter? This way!”
“Dexter! What do you think about the virgin hunt?”
“Dexter! Are you really a virgin?”
For a long moment, I can only blink, try to get my sight back. One word hammers through all the ringing in my skull: virgin. It’s like a hit to the ribs. I can’t breathe.
They’re talking about me being a virgin.
Shame surges hot over my skin, like I’ve been stripped of my clothes and placed in the desert. I duck my head and shoulder through the crowd, aware of my teammates at my back, looking at me. And then comes rage. I shouldn’t be ashamed. My life is my own business.
It actually takes me five steps to realize I’m not a virgin. I’m so fucking blindsided that for a second, I forgot about Fi. Jesus. I’m not a virgin. But obviously the world thinks I am. And why?
“Dex.” Someone touches my elbow. I flinch, ready to throw the guy off. But it’s Rolondo, his dark eyes serious.
“Come on, man. I’ll drive to dinner.”
Dinner? People are still shouting, crowding. Cameras still in my face.