Sugarbaby by CRYSTAL GREEN Page B

just about jumped out of my skin, but it was only Simmons, and he held up his palms as he backed away.
    555-8465,
I thought.
Here he is—“Aidan” in the flesh.
    My heart dipped, and I realized something for the first time—I’d half been hoping that I’d been wrong about “Aidan” being Simmons. I’d wanted it to be Noah instead.
    â€œThanks for being here,” he said loudly.
    Carley held onto my arm as she stepped to my side and gave Simmons a very obvious scan up and down, taking in the tight blue jeans over his wiry body, the tailored sports jacket rolled to his elbows. His hair was just as coiffed as it was yesterday in the café.
    He tapped his ear, gesturing toward the left, where it appeared there was a door that led to another room. It was probably the only door that ended up anyplace here in this mansion.
    â€œI don’t think so!” Carley said.
    I pointed to her. “She comes with me, along with her boyfriend!”
    Simmons nodded, then cut through the pack on his way to the door. I had just enough time to look behind me, trying to see Noah again, but I couldn’t.
    Just as well, anyway.
    When we caught up with Simmons, he was at the door, speaking to a muscled man in a tight black shirt. The guy opened up, letting us into a small room with intact walls. It spilled dim light and turned out to be a quiet hovel where new leather furniture had been set up. Tables were filled with ice buckets of champagne and vodka, plus trays of food you’d see at cocktail parties, not that I’d ever been to one. I’d watched enough
Chopped
to know food, though.
    A threesome stopped pawing at one another on a divan as Simmons jerked his chin toward the door. They left without question.
    Carley, Bret, and I merely looked at Simmons as music bammed against the walls.
    â€œWe don’t have to shout here,” he said in a level tone. “I thought this would be a much better place to talk.”
    Was this the VIP room? Did that mean Simmons was special in the eyes of the Hellfire Club, since he’d gotten access?
    He extended his arm, gesturing for us to sit. Carley pulled me to a fine leather sofa, and we sank into its buttery depths. Bret sat on the arm, near his girlfriend.
    â€œI see you brought your bodyguards,” Simmons said to me.
    â€œI didn’t know what to expect. Why not just meet in town for this little talk?”
    â€œBecause we thought you might want to be invited here. You seemed very interested when Noah mentioned the Hellfire Club. Not everyone is allowed in, as you said.”
    At Noah’s name, I got hot again, like a lightning bolt had struck me through, flashing over and over until I was singed inside.
    Simmons narrowed his gaze as he assessed me, and I got the feeling he knew just how much I was drawn to Noah. But he didn’t remark on it.
    Bret spoke in his drawl. “A VIP room. Nothing’s ever this fancy in the Club.”
    â€œNoah decided he wanted his own version of Hellfire.” Simmons gestured vaguely to the music. “He was trawling the Internet one day and came upon mention of the Club, so he put some effort into tracking down who organizes it. You can say he took over the Hellfire tonight. I thought it was a rash idea, but . . .” He trailed off.
    I almost asked why. Was Noah still supposed to be staying under the radar, out of the public?
    Bret crossed his arms over his chest. “Those are secret forum boards.”
    â€œBut not absolutely hidden,” Simmons said. “Not from someone who knows computers.”
    We all took that in. I remembered that The Reeves Group dealt in tech, among other things. Noah was obviously hands-on—or had been before he’d gotten forced out.
    â€œWhy would he want to take over the Hellfire?” I asked. “Doesn’t he have clubs back in New York, San Francisco, Paris, or wherever he feels like going?”
    Or was this