Corrupt - Douglas Penelope. Страница 20

Not if I didn’t have to, anyway.

“I don’t want you there,” he reiterated, barking his order. “Do you understand?”

I clenched my teeth. “No,” I gritted out. “I don’t understand, because you’re not explaining it to me. And the last time I checked, you’re not my father.”

I heard his bitter laugh on the other end. “You probably planned this, didn’t you? You knew exactly what you were doing.”

I shook my head, closing my eyes. I had no idea what he was talking about, but I no longer cared. “I’m not moving. I don’t want to.”

“No. I don’t suppose you do.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” I shot out.

But then my phone beeped again, and I pulled it away from my ear seeing Call Ended. I dropped my head back, exasperated. What the hell?

Why wouldn’t Trevor want me at Delcour? He hated Meridian City, but what did Delcour have to do with that?

And then I lifted my chin, closing my eyes as realization hit.

Michael. Trevor hated Michael, and Michael was at Delcour. He didn’t want him around me.

But if Michael didn’t give me the time of day at home, nothing would be any different here. Hell, I probably wouldn’t even know he lived at Delcour if I hadn’t run into him last night. I had no reason to think I’d see him on a regular basis.

I let out a sigh and ran my fingers across my forehead, wiping away the light layer of sweat. The argument had me heated now.

And with energy to spare.

I gripped the phone, feeling the hilt of a blade in my fist and the fire in my legs to move.

Bringing up my phone, I typed in a search for “fencing clubs.”

“HELLO.” I APPROACHED THE FRONT DESK of Hunter-Bailey, seeing the attendant’s head pop up. “I saw online that you have a fencing club, and I was wondering if you have open bouting nights.”

He pinched his eyebrows together, looking confused. “Excuse me?”

I shifted uncomfortably. Hunter-Bailey was reputed to have one of the most active fencing clubs in the state with private lessons and a large area for group workouts. It was also the only location in the city to offer fencing.

The facility was a little more intense than the Thunder Bay Rec Center that I was used to, though. Massive area rugs adorned the hardwood floors, while dark wood made up the stairs and all of the furniture. The upholstery was kept to dark tones like forest green, black, and midnight blue, and the place was old, dark, and very male. I’d also noticed the fancy marble dome ceiling and stained glass windows when I’d walked in.

“Fencing,” I clarified, looking at the young man dressed in a suit. “I’m looking for a club. I’ll purchase a membership if I need to.”

I really didn’t need classes. I’d been studying nearly my entire life. But I would love a chance to connect with other fencers, pair up for practice bouts, and make some friends.

But the guy was looking at me like I was speaking in Japanese.

“Rika,” a deep voice called, and I twisted my head, seeing Michael walk across the foyer from the front doors.

What was he doing here?

He approached me, wearing loose jeans and a navy blue T-shirt, everything he wore always accentuating his chest, arms, and height. A gym bag hung off his shoulder with a black sweater draped over it.

“What do you want?” His sharp tone bit.

I opened my mouth. “I…um—”

“You know this young woman, Mr. Crist?” the clerk asked, chiming in.

Michael stared at me, looking none too pleased with running into me, either. “Yes.”

The clerk cleared his throat. “Well, she’s interested in joining our fencing club, sir.”

The corner of Michael’s mouth quirked in a grin, and he nodded at the clerk. “I’ll take care of it.”

I watched the clerk disappear into the back, leaving us alone in the quiet area, distant voices from the closed doors behind me drifting through.

I gripped the strap of my satchel lying across my chest. “I didn’t know you fenced.”

“What makes you think I fence?”

I looked around, indicating where we were. “Well, you’re in a fencing club.”

“No,” he drawled out, looking amused. “I‘m in a gentlemen’s club.”

A gentlemen’s club. Like a strip club?

But looking around, I didn’t see anything that gave the indication that there were pole dancers, private rooms, or lap dances being performed here.

Hunter Bailey was pristine, elegant, and old, like a museum where you were told to be quiet and not touch anything.

I shook my head, befuddled. “I’m lost. What do you mean?”

He let out a sigh, tipping his chin down and looking at me like his patience was wearing thin. “This is Hunter-Bailey, an exclusive men’s club, Rika,” he explained. “A place where guys go to work out, swim, steam, drink, and bullshit away from all the people that bug the shit out of them.”

Bug the shit out of them?

“Like women?” I guessed.

He just stared at me, holding the strap of his bag with his head slightly cocked.

“So…” I looked around and then back to him, “women aren’t actually allowed in here then?”

“Nope.”

I rolled my eyes. “That’s completely ridiculous.”

No wonder the clerk had looked at me so funny. Why didn’t they post a sign outside saying No Women Allowed then?

But…I guessed that would probably just make women want to come in more.

Michael stepped up to me. “When women get to enjoy Ladies Night Out specials or their own private workout area at a gym, it’s okay, but when a guy wants their own space, it’s archaic?”

I held his hazel eyes, the golden amber in them taunting and playing with me like a cat with a mouse. He had a point, and he knew it. It was okay for men to want their own space. No harm. No foul.

But it aggravated me that they offered something I enjoyed and I was shut out.

I shrugged. “I just wanted to fence, and this town is limited as far as facilities go, so...”

“So I’m sorry more women don’t take an interest for you to have your own club,” he replied flatly, sounding not the least bit sorry. “Now it’s raining outside. Do you need a ride back to Delcour?”

I dropped my gaze, noticing the small, dark splotches on his shoulders. The rain must’ve started right after I’d stepped inside.

I shook my head, seeing very clearly that he was trying to get rid of me.

“Fine.” He veered around me to the wooden double doors, and I took a step, ready to leave. But then I spotted a tweed ivy cap sitting on a stack of antique books on top of a curio cabinet.

I smiled, biting my bottom lip, because I couldn’t stop myself. Without hesitating, I dropped my bag on the floor, ran over and snatched up the cap, and then darted up the stairs, taking two at a time as I stuck the hat on my head. I stuffed my ponytail inside, hiding my hair underneath the hat.

“Erika!” Michael’s voice boomed behind me.

But I didn’t stop. My heart raced, and I squeezed my fists, the adrenaline making them tingle. Reaching the second floor, I darted around the corner, quickly stuffing any stray hairs up underneath the cap and hurrying down the hall.

I heard the stairs creek behind me, and I glanced back, not seeing Michael but hearing his footfalls as he powered after me.

Shit. I almost laughed, remember all those years ago when he’d found me at the catacombs. He liked my curiosity then, I think, and even had fun indulging me. And then immediately after that night he pulled back as if nothing had happened.

Maybe he’d remember.

I speed-walked down the hall, hearing banter and laughter around me as I passed several open doors. But I didn’t stop to look.

Two men in suits, one of them holding a cigar, came in my direction down the hall, laughing with each other. I dipped my head, knowing that my figure did nothing to disguise that I was a woman.