Decadent

Decadent
Suzanne Forster

Club Casablanca—an exclusive gentlemen's club where exotic hostesses cater to the every need of high-stakes gamblers, politicians and big-business execs.No rules apply. And no unescorted women are allowed. Ever. But Ally Danner has to get in—to rescue her sister from the club's obsessive owner, Jason Aragon. And undercover FBI agent Sam Sinclair is just the man to help her. In return she'll use her inside knowledge to get Sam the evidence he needs to put Jason away.Only, once they get caught up in the club's hedonistic allure, the only favors they end up trading are sensual….

SUZANNE FORSTER

Decadent

TORONTO • NEW YORK • LONDON AMSTERDAM • PARIS • SYDNEY • HAMBURG STOCKHOLM • ATHENS • TOKYO • MILAN • MADRID PRAGUE • WARSAW • BUDAPEST • AUCKLAND

This one is for the wonderful fans and friends

who have done me the honor of becoming

members of my Yahoo Group. You guys are the

best! Thank you for supporting me through even

the toughest times, and know that I will never

forget your outpouring of love and sympathy

when I lost my mother. It meant more

than I can possibly express.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Epilogue

Coming Next Month

1

RUN, ALLY! Stop staring at him and run. He’s evil. Don’t let him touch you!

But as the forbidding figure moved through the mist toward her, Ally couldn’t run. His physical domination of everything surrounding him in the ancient cemetery seemed to hold her like a net.

She’d heard the tales about the Wolverton legend and the ghost that haunted The Willows, an elegant old mansion. According to folklore, the estate had been stolen from the Wolvertons nearly a hundred years ago, and Micha Wolverton had been killed trying to reclaim it. His dying vow had been to be reunited with the spirit of his beloved wife, who’d taken her life for reasons no one would speak of, except in whispers. But Ally had never put much stock in the fantasy. She didn’t believe in ghosts.

Until now—

She didn’t understand what was happening. The figure had just materialized out of the mist, his body solidifying right before her eyes.

His face was familiar…so familiar. She stepped back as he approached.

“Don’t be afraid,” he murmured. His voice wasn’t what she had expected. It didn’t sound as if it were coming from beyond the grave. It was deep and sensual. Commanding.

“Who are you?” she managed.

“You should know. You summoned me.”

“No, I didn’t.” Two minutes ago, she’d been crouching behind a moss-covered crypt, spying on the mansion that had once been The Willows, but was now Club Casablanca. And then this—

If he was Micha, he might be angry that she was trespassing on his property. “I’ll go,” she said. “I won’t come back. I promise.”

“You’re not going anywhere.”

Words snagged in her throat. “Wh-why not? What do you want?”

“If I wanted something, Ally, I’d take it. This is about need.”

She tried to back away, but her feet were useless. “And you need something from me?”

“Good guess.” His tone burned with irony. “I need lips, soft and surrendered, a body limp with desire.”

“My lips, my bod—?”

“Only yours.”