28. Elanee
28
ELANEE
I do as instructed, and when I arrive at the address given to me, a woman who claims to work for Dmitri greets me at the door. She escorts me into a spare room where a tight, strapless, emerald green dress waits with black boots. I can’t help but smile at the addition of the boots. Anyone else would’ve made me wear heels.
By the time I arrive at the infamous club, Lev, it’s eight in the evening, and people are already lining up in what looks like a non-moving line. I’d read articles that it’s one of the most difficult clubs to get into, unless, of course, you’re someone of importance or high society. But people still try, tonight clearly being no different.
I’m wearing an emerald peacock mask that tips in gold along the bridge of my nose. Apparently, a requirement to step into the club, but I also like how it hides my identity. It adds to the allure of the club best known for creating and fulfilling fantasies.
My heart pounds as I walk up to the bouncer. I feel out of place here, considering it’d been so long since I’d just gone out for fun. It’s been close to three years, and I fight the internal conflict that tells me I don’t belong or deserve to be here. The bouncer doesn’t so much as look at me as he steps to the side, welcoming me in. People in the line begin to shout, but I’m too mesmerized by the entrance with red leather walls as music coaxes me into the establishment. I feel like I’ve just fallen down a hole in Alice in Wonderland and have no idea what to expect when I’m inside.
I follow the noise tunneling down the red leather hall, and when I step out on the other side, I’m equally surprised and impressed. The club is full of life already, and the patrons act as if they’ve been drinking all day, or perhaps they never left from the night before. The air crackles with an electric wildness, and at first glance, the room looks like a utopia where the wealthy give way to their inhibitions. Some grind against one another on the dance floor. Others are in booths, shouting and encouraging over the music to throw back more shots.
The ceiling is coated in gold, and chandeliers sparkle under the lights that sweep past coming from the direction of the DJ booth positioned in the back of the room. On either side are staircases that lead to another two levels. I’m curious about each.
It’s hard to believe that Dmitri created this because most articles focus on his playboy antics, bachelor of the year, and being CEO of Creighton Technologies. His other business achievements are minimal to those, and now I understand why. Because this is the heart of Dmitri. and he keeps it hidden from the masses. Only those who can afford to be here are. I can only imagine what they spend to let their hair down in such a manner, and I have no doubt that Dmitri has been filling his pockets for years to simply indulge their fantasies.
Lev is dark and enticing—entirely Dmitri. I realize now that perhaps this was the part he was warning me about. His tastes. Perhaps for him, this was his only element of freedom from the pressures and expectations of the corporate world past these walls.
“Are you lost?” a man asks, snapping me out of my outright gawking. “If you’re new here, you can join our table.” He’s a well-dressed man wearing a raven mask, dark hair tied up at the back, and dark brown eyes.
I offer a polite smile. “No, thank you. I’m here to meet with a friend.”
“I can be that friend,” he offers, outstretching his hand. In a split second, another hand catches his, and a defiant crack splits the air. The man screams as he’s forced to drop onto his knee. He curses, but when he looks up, his eyes go wide, even beneath the mask—his fear apparent.
“Apologize.” I recognize his voice, ambiance, and physique even beneath a mask. Dmitri wears a black dress shirt and a black skull-like mask that forms horns at the top of his head. It conceals only half of his face, his beautiful lips now thin as he scowls at the man. The mask is so detailed that I’m sure it wipes the idea of ‘pleasure’ from anyone’s mind. It looks so stark against his blonde hair. But it’s his possessive raging blue eyes that run a cold shudder through me and no doubt the man who he’s just given a few broken bones.
Dmitri looks like a deadly God here.
A Grim Reaper in his domain.
A stark contrast to the charismatic playboy everyone sees in the outside world.
When I look at the mask he wears now, I realize that perhaps the one he wears out in high society is the real cover-up.
The tension is heavy as the man is floundering, squirming in pain, and can’t even speak. And the stare Dmitri gives him is… terrifying.
“Please don’t kill him.” I find myself saying, and am shocked, that’s the first thing I assume I should say. The man with the broken hand trembles beneath him. His friends standing behind him step back into the crowd, too terrified to intervene.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were his ,” he splutters.
His. It creates flutters in my stomach when it shouldn’t under the circumstances. But Dmitri doesn’t let go, and I realize he’s in some type of trance. One that’s promising impending doom.
“Dmitri,” I carefully say, as I place a hand on his shoulder in an attempt to not startle him. This part of him, this lethal dark edge, is a mirror to his father’s. The only difference is Dmitri pretends to be a civilized citizen. I should be running as far away from Dmitri as possible, yet he’s the only person I gravitate toward. But not all powerful men can be tamed. I especially know that.
Dmitri is reluctant but eventually releases him before his gaze looks between the man and the red leather tunnel. Of his own accord, the man scampers toward it to flee.
“You can’t just hurt people like that,” I reprimand.
His raging, blue gaze lands on me, and I’m frozen in place. That predatory-like gaze hasn’t yet shifted. It’s like he doesn’t even see me right now. “Dmitri?” I repeat.
He blinks. And then blinks again. I see the subtle shift ,and the tension ripples out of me when I realize he’s back to his usual self. Had he always been like this? Even back in college, he was in control of his temper. Sure, he fought a lot, but he always knew when to stop. But something was different in him now.
“No one touches you except me.” Is all he says as he grabs my hand. Before I can reply, he’s already guiding me away from the entrance. The crowd parts for him like a sea splitting for a king in his domain. Bouncers track his movement, but I doubt they’ve ever had to intervene or fight on his behalf.
“Wait. Where are you taking me?” I ask. I wanted to see this place. I wanted to see Dmitri, but not as he is now. There is something unsettling about him. It crackles around him like a raging storm. One I’m not entirely sure I’ll be able to reach. And that terrifies me.
He leads me to a staircase and stops at the bottom when he finally notices my reluctance.
“Somethings off about you tonight,” I say, and maybe it’s because I was so looking forward to seeing him that this version of him is so confronting.
He sighs and goes to pinch the bridge of his nose, realizing he has a mask on. I’ve noticed him do that a few times now; headaches, maybe?
“I’m sorry, it’s been a long day,” he says earnestly. I can see the fire that lit behind his eyes earlier diminishing—for me. “Didn’t you want to step into my world? Aren’t you curious?” he asks and gestures to the staircases that lead to the two levels I was curious about earlier.
Bouncers guard the entrance of both levels, and a few members in masks look over the railing and down at those dancing, casually prowling. Exclusive levels, no doubt.
I’m curious but can’t shake the nagging feeling that he’s hiding something from me. More predominantly, I’m worried that one day, and maybe soon, he won’t let me in anymore. After seeing a different side to Dmitri these past months, I hadn’t realized how much more of it I wanted. How selfishly I want every bit of this man that he’s willing to offer.
“Are you really okay, Dmitri?” I ask quietly. At the very least, I need to know that. Is he simply tired? Did something else happen?
I can’t see his expression, but his gaze studies me carefully as he steps into the only space between us. He dips his lips to mine, and I’m startled when his tongue dances against mine, hungrily devouring me. He possessively coaxes everything out of me as if we weren’t in the middle of a club full of people dancing around us.
His spicy cologne flares my nostrils, and I wrap my hands around his neck, pulling him in, wanting more. After all the things he promised last night over the phone, I want to feel him inside of me again.
When he pulls away with a devilish smirk, I notice a few onlookers staring but are quick to avert their gaze. “I’m better now that you’re here,” he says, and I notice the shift in his demeanor. Whatever tension or moment that just transpired was gone—leaving me with the Dmitri I know best.
When he begins to lead me up the staircase, I spot the same couple leaning over the hand railing on the first floor. They’re whispering to one another as they look at me, and I can’t help but feel heat spread across my cheeks.
Surely, Dmitri being with a woman wasn’t that unusual, considering he’s known as a playboy. But up until this point, he didn’t have any relationships to speak of publicly. Only flings. I wanted to believe that what we had was more. But perhaps this was easy for Dmitri, satisfying a need while feeling guilty for my circumstances, pitying even.
I push that doubt away, knowing I’m trying to fabricate a lie to protect myself so I don’t fall too deeply. But it’s already too late.
When we stop at the top of the stairs, my eyes widen—a row of rooms lines on either side, with clear glass radiating red. Dmitri leads me down the left side, and I’m stunned by the beauty and uniqueness of each room.
I’d seen a lot of things in Moscow, but Dmitri had created a safe place for fantasy. The first room reveals a woman who wears a leather wolf mask and leather dominatrix attire, as she taps a flogger in her hand. Her room has a giant X post, which I think is made for tying someone up. There’s also what looks like a leather swing. When our eyes meet, she snaps her mouth as if she has fangs. I flinch but also smile curiously.
The next room hosts two women, and although it’s harder to verify with masks, I have the impression they’re identical twins. My upper lip curls into a sneer and I look away. I never understood the twin fantasy thing, but so many had tried it on Layla and me in college, and it’s always been a hard pass for both of us.
The third room is blacked out. I’m assuming that means maybe it’s already occupied.
The fourth room hosts a luxurious white bed framed by a golden cage. A man lays comfortably on the bed with white wings and an angelic-looking feather mask.
“Is there anything you like the look of?” Dmitri asks. “Or should we look on the other side?”
I swallow. “Now?”
The corner of his mouth kicks up; he lazily rests his arm against the frame of the glass and stares down at me. I feel trapped, entirely his prey. But I can’t look away either. “I’m forced to restrain myself every day from destroying that little pussy of yours while you put yourself in harm’s way. So yes, Cricket. You need to be punished. Now.”
This menacing side of Dmitri arouses a mixture of intimidation and curiosity. I know I’m not scared of Dmitri, but I’d been hurt because of a powerful man like him before. The vein in Dmitri’s neck bulges and I can tell he’s restraining himself even now.
I want to know more about him and his tastes. This deeper version of him that strangers who attend daily catch glimpses of. But at this moment, I have all of him, and I’d be damned if I was letting that go—for now.
“What would you like to do to me, Dmitri?” I breathe. Because I know this man will open my world and experiences. And every time he does, I feel like he takes a small piece of my heart.
That wicked, arrogant smile kicks up. “And you’ll let me do as I please?”
“Don’t you always?” I ask.
He chuckles. “If I had it my way, Cricket, you’d be black and blue bruised every day and unable to walk because I’d branded you as mine. But today, I’ll take something else from you.”
I swallow hard because his declaration should scare me. Especially considering the things I’d been through, but with Dmitri, it’s different. It’s not from a place of cruel malice but rather pleasure. And I know, wholeheartedly, if there’s something I don’t like, he’ll stop.
It’s the control I have over this situation and man that has me curious. I don’t know why, but I feel like slowly I’m regaining my strength and power with him.
Dmitri was the beacon I’d been praying for all these years, even if he promised to punish me for taking my time to reach his side.