A Lover's Mask by Altonya Washington

seat and enjoyed several more puffs of his cigar.
    â€œDo you two have the contract for Contessa House?” he asked them.
    Graham leaned forward. “Stef, we tried, but we—”
    â€œDo you two have the contract for Contessa House?” Stef voiced the question once again.
    Anson folded one hand over Graham’s arm. “No,” he answered.
    â€œLet me explain why I send two men on sales trips,” Stef said after enjoying a few more puffs from his cigar. “Two men ensure that the pitch will be thoroughly understood by the client. A second man points out valuable facts to the client—facts that his partner may’ve failed to mention—thus providing the client with a deal they can’t refuse. But you two failed. Now what do you think I should do about that?”
    Anson and Graham exchanged glances and knew it was time to pull out all the stops lest they be fired…or worse.
    â€œCan we at least explain?” Graham raised his hand to ask.
    â€œYou didn’t close the deal. That’s all I need to know.”
    â€œNo, it’s not, Stef.”
    The room went deathly still. Graham closed his eyes, knowing a few of his friend’s teeth were about to be strewn across the Oriental rug that covered half the floor.
    Instead, Stef seemed interested and came to sit on the edge of his spotless pine desk. “What do you think I need to know?”
    â€œWe didn’t have a chance to complete the pitch because we were told to leave,” Anson shared quickly.
    Stef rolled his eyes. “That’s what the client usually does when they deal with piss poor salesmen.”
    â€œNo Stef, it was Fernando,” Graham said.
    â€œFernando?” Stef repeated, curious and mildly stunned. “I’m surprised he even decided to attend the meeting.
    â€œHe didn’t attend the meeting,” Anson clarified.
    â€œHe was there meeting with two centerfolds for one of his Chicago magazines,” Graham added.
    Stef took a long drag from his cigar. “So my partner just happened to be there, huh?”
    â€œHe arranged it,” Graham confessed.
    Stef nodded. “Go on,” he urged, leaving the corner of his desk.
    â€œWe’d been talking to Ms. Warren for a while, when he gave a nod signaling that we should leave,” Graham continued, “we didn’t think it’d be wise to argue.”
    â€œYou thought right,” Stef agreed, losing some of his anger. “You guys go on home, relax, take a good shower and the rest of the week off,” he instructed.
    Very relieved, Anson and Graham thanked their boss and hurried toward the door.
    â€œGuys?” Stef called, before their hands touched the knob. “Tell me about Contessa Warren.”
    Anson’s and Graham’s smiles were the epitomes of male satisfaction.
    â€œYou should see her Stef, a real dime,” Anson appraised.
    Graham nodded. “Incredible body and an even more incredible face. Plus, she’s smart. Quick, outspoken, She’s no fool.”
    â€œYeah, if I weren’t sitting across from her, I’d have sworn I was dealing with a man,” Anson shared.
    While his men flattered Contessa, Stef nodded. He’s sleeping with her, or planning to, he realized. “Thanks guys, get home and get some rest.”
    â€œAre you gonna forget the House, boss?” Graham wanted to know.
    â€œNo, just taking a different route,” Stef confided.
    Alone in the office, Stef finished off his cigar. Reaching for the private phone directory on his desk, he browsed the gold-trimmed pages until he found what he was looking for. He dialed the number and waited for the connection.
    â€œHey, it’s Stef. I got a job for you. In Chicago. Contessa Warren. I want to know everything about her.”

Chapter 4
    T he Spot was an upscale gentleman’s club located several miles outside of Chicago. To an average passerby, the place looked like an