Page 8 of Saved By A God
If I accidentally run into someone I know, they shouldn’t recognize me.
Lifting my eyebrow, I give myself an approving look.
Not bad, Rosie.
The bodysuit has a slit at the bottom for easy access. That way, I won’t have to get butt naked.
It’s now or never.
Grabbing the coat from my bed, I shrug it on and tie the belt tightly as I leave my apartment on the seventh floor of the building.
I’ve only told Alessio, my head guard, where I’m going after swearing him to secrecy.
When I reach the underground parking area, I walk to the SUV with the blacked-out windows and grin at Alessio. “What do you think?”
His eyebrows fly up, then he shakes his head. “The blond hair and makeup are so not you.”
“Good. That’s the idea.”
Alessio has been my guard for over three years, and we’ve become good friends.
He’s the only guard I allow in my fortress. The rest stay outside. Christiano is so damn stressed about my safety, he’s saddled me with a team of ten men, and it gets very overwhelming at times.
After I climb into the backseat and Alessio starts the engine, he asks, “Are you sure about going to Paradiso?”
“Yep. Don’t try to change my mind.”
“As long as this is what you want,” he murmurs before pressing the remote to open the steel doors.
While he drives me to the Vitale’s club, I check to make sure everything is ready. I hacked into the system and booked lucky room number seven for myself. Not wanting to know who I’ve been paired with, I avoid looking at the guy’s information and just make sure it still shows my fake profile.
Sherrie Simpson. Age 26. Anonymous hookup. Dim lighting. No faces. No talking. Only sex. No orgasm.
I’m not sure whether I’ll be able to orgasm and don’t want the guy to keep trying for ages, so I opted out to avoid things getting awkward. I just want to have sex and experience what it’s like without any frills or fuss.
When Alessio parks the car near the exclusive club, my stomach shrivels into a tight ball of nerves.
“Still time to go home,” my guard says.
“Nope. Don’t let anyone see you,” I remind him before I get out and walk to the entrance.
I focus on moving differently, swinging my hips sensually while keeping my chin down so some of the hair hangs over my cheeks and jaw.
Let’s see what getting laid is all about.
Lila, the hostess, greets me with a welcoming smile, and because she’s never met me in person, I’m not worried at all.
It takes a few minutes of pretending I care about being shown around the club.
I have access to all the cameras in every business and even some of the homes in the Cosa Nostra, so I know the layout of the club.
Finally, Lila takes me down a hallway, and I’m shown to room number seven.
My heartbeat speeds up, and for a moment I second-guess my plan, but already here, I shun the doubts.
The private room feels more like a luxury hotel suite than part of a club. Soft amber lighting glows from hidden fixtures in the walls, leaving the space dim and intimate without plunging it into darkness.
My eyes lock on the king-sized bed draped in charcoal linens that dominates the middle of the room.
