Emily leaned in as if to tell Andrew a secret, smile playing about her red painted lips. "I want you to meet someone special," she murmured.

He pulled back to fix her with a dubious look. "I thought we were on a date?" he asked.

"Oh, believe me, you'll like this surprise," she insisted. "In fact, I think you've already had the pleasure of making her acquaintance."

At that moment, JJ strutted up in a shining green bodycon dress and sky-high heels. She leaned in to kiss Emily's cheek, then rounded on Andrew as if surprised by his presence. "Well, if it isn't my favourite patron... I've missed you."

"You two are friends?" he asked, the wheels in his head visibly turning as if calculating his chances of a threesome with two strippers.

JJ slung her arm around his shoulders, pressing her body into his side. "I think we need some drinks," she declared. "How do you feel about a Creamy Pussy?"

Getting flustered, he cleared his throat, but nodded, not caring what kind of drink it was, only that it was being offered by a scantily clad woman who seemed to be into him.

"To Andrew," JJ toasted, clinking her glass against his, then Emily's. Then, she tossed the liquid over her shoulder as he downed his, sharing a smirk with Emily.

Emily and JJ propped Andrew up between them as they entered the club. With a little wink, they moved past the bouncer (thankfully it was Derek's day off) and into the Champagne Room.

"Where am I?" Andrew slurred as they dropped him onto the sofa.

"You wanted to keep the party going," Emily purred, settling next to him and stroking his chest. "So, we found somewhere fun."

His head lolled from side to side. "Fun?" he repeated.

"Mmhmm," JJ hummed. "And you said you wanted to buy another round."

He mumbled something incoherent, fishing in his pocket for his wallet. He handed over his credit card into Emily's waiting hand.

She kissed his cheek. "Thank you, baby," she cooed. Trying not to act too eager, she crossed the club to run his credit card. She was barely breathing as she waited for the approval message.

It must have been payday somewhere, Emily mused to herself as she strutted about the stage, based on the number of men waving money at her, each one eager to slip their hard-earned dollars into her thong.

At the back of the room, Dave was trying to get her attention. She wasn't sure what she would've done to earn his ire and she wasn't all that eager to find out, but Dave was not a patient man, so as soon as the song finished, she made her way across the club to what the girls all called his Throne Room (it was really just an alcove where he spent his nights watching everything that went on in his club, but it was as close to a throne as any of the girls was likely to ever see).

"Something wrong?" Emily asked when she reached him, still towelling sweat off her neck.

"There's a client for you in the Champagne Room," he informed her. "He was quite adamant that he wanted to see you immediately."

Her brows leapt up her forehead. "Oh, yeah?" she said, playing at nonchalance in spite of the way her pulse had sped up and her mouth had gone dry.

He seemed pleased. "You've certainly been a hot commodity lately," he mused. "I always knew you'd do well here."

She gave a false little laugh, shrugging away the praise and hoping he couldn't see through her to the thrumming fear beneath the surface. She prayed to a God she wasn't sure she believed in that it wasn't Ian waiting for her. She wasn't ready to face him and wasn't certain she'd walk away unscathed if it were. Doing her best to play at indifference, she asked, "Same client?"

"Some new guy," he said with a shrug. "Now, get a move on, bellezza – clients don't tip late arrivals."

When she emerged into the Champagne Room – two glasses of champagne in her hands – she nearly stumbled in her shock upon catching sight of her waiting patron. "Andrew?" she stammered. "What... What are you doing here?" Then, thinking better of her approach, she purred, "Did you have so much fun last night that you want an encore?"

"To be honest," he confessed, "I'm having a little trouble remembering last night..."

Emily manufactured a laugh. "Honey, in my book that means you had a lot of fun."

That didn't seem to have the desired effect, though. "I came here hoping that you could refresh my memory a little," he said, almost pleading. He pressed a twenty into her hand in an unspoken bribe.

Emily pouted. "Well, to be honest, I'm having a little trouble remembering myself..." she lied. "Afterall, we did have a lot to drink." He raised a brow in silent question. "My mind goes a little fuzzy after you bought us all a round of the Green Fairy," she said, "Something about absinthe makes my brain go haywire."

He nodded slowly. "Absinthe... That would explain why I woke up with the headache of a lifetime. And all the credit card charges," he mused, more to himself than to her.

"Baby, believe me, if I could do something to help you, I would," she murmured, settling in his lap and running her finger along his chest. "In the meantime, why don't we make your visit worthwhile? Maybe something will come back to you if we reenact it..."

He seemed dubious about that, judging by the expression on his face like he was being offered a pomegranate with the threat of damnation looming.

"Come on, honey," she insisted, "I won't even charge you to get a little handsy..." As if to punctuate the statement, she moved his hand to her breast and winked at him. She was hoping that a little gratis groping would calm his suspicions, as she really didn't want their scheme busted right out of the gates. Not when they still needed to make Ian pay for what he'd done...