He was still rip-roaringly pissed off from what had happened earlier that day with Clayton, and now his brain was twisting with ways to lure former employees from McDermott’s group to his own company. He should be at home with some of his best executives over Skype—damn the time difference—and figuring out exactly what needed to be done in order to finally stick it to one Clayton McDermott. And yet… He was frustrated and angry. In the past, the sheikh had found that the best way to relieve his stress and to get himself back into a focused mood was to find a more effective way to spend that pent-up energy. What he wanted was a good hard fuck, a woman to spend the night with, and to make the trials of the day fade away. Associated with Clayton McDermott’s friends or not, Club Rouge had a reputation all its own. He’d Googled it after the meeting that imploded and been intrigued by both the beauty and design of the club, as well as the stories about its debauched reputation.
