Chapter 1
CHAPTER
ONE
Darby
Sensory deprivation was not my favorite kink.
If I ever made a list or menu of my services, blindfolds and hoods would not be on it. I liked to see and hear what I was getting myself into, or who was getting into me. But it had been a good night. I was full of food, tipsy from wine, and relaxed enough to bend a few personal rules.
In the back seat of the Lincoln Town Car, Graham Callahan threw his arm around my shoulders, dousing me in the heavy scent of his cologne.
My nose wrinkled, but otherwise I maintained the pleasant expression that was practically engraved on my face.
Soft lines, sweet looks, or sultry ones when needed.
Everything a sugar daddy could want in one petite package.
I couldn’t see Graham’s expression, though. I’d been rendered blind after he insisted that I donned a satin sleep mask while en route to our next destination. The piece of fabric was secured only by a strip of elastic, so I could have removed it, but I’d decided to play along.
Graham was excited, bragging about the “fun surprise” he had lined up for us.
I’d be the judge of how “fun” it really was.
For now, it was novel enough to be out. Since Club Daddy Lucas Beckett took over the Dollhouse and let me and my fellow dancers off our leashes, I’d been making the most of it.
I spent my days in the company of Las Vegas’s most powerful men, and my nights serving drinks, sass, and ass to the VIP customers of the Devil’s Dollhouse.
Graham was typically a gentleman. His money was good, and he liked to make a night of it: dinner, drinks, dancing, and eventually the bedroom. He appreciated the whole package. I got to wear nice clothes and keep them on for more than ten minutes, which wasn’t always the case in my line of work.
Regardless, I hoped the sleep mask would come off soon. Cloth on my eyes was bound to smudge my makeup. And if this surprise wasn’t a good one, I was going to be annoyed.
The car eased to a stop, and the hum of the engine faded.
I heard the door beside me open, admitting sunlight that warmed my skin and slipped under the edges of the mask.
Straightening, I smoothed my hands over my thighs as the dry desert heat crept in along with the low murmur of afternoon traffic.
“Come on, Luxe,” Graham said, taking my hand in a steady grip.
He didn’t know my real name. None of my clients did. Real names were for real problems, and this wasn’t real. It was expensive make-believe.
I followed his lead, stepping out with nothing but faith to guide me. My heel caught the edge of the curb, and I stumbled hard enough to spike my pulse. I recovered quickly, masking the slip with a toss of my head and a breath through my nose.
Graham chuckled and tugged my arm through the loop of his elbow. “You good?”
“Of course,” I replied, slipping back into character.
Luxe was always good. Great, in fact. That polished persona had taken years to perfect, starting long before I walked through the doors of the Dollhouse.
Most of the other dancers had been thrown into the job with no training or skills to speak of.
Our old boss, Maslow the wraith, didn’t care.
He’d selected us like candy from a jar and came out with five different flavors of sin, ready for his customers to sample.
He didn’t realize he’d picked a professional.
From a Chicago brothel in life to a Sin City strip club in death, I’d been making fantasy into fact for as long as I could remember.
In a way, Luxe was more real than I was.
He showed up when I couldn’t. He smiled when I didn’t feel like smiling.
And right now, he walked with confidence while I cringed behind the blindfold.
I moved forward with a healthy measure of trepidation. Sidewalk cracks were hazardous for stiletto heels, and the black satin mask that had been cool and comfortable in the car had become stifling. My eyelashes raked over it with every blink.
I lifted my hand toward the mask, but my fingertips had barely pinched the edge when Graham stopped me.
“Not yet,” he said, tone full of promise. “I swear, it’s worth the wait.”
I sighed and dropped my hand again. “I’ll take your word for it.”
With a laugh, he guided me along the sunbaked pavement. We didn’t travel far, but I couldn’t shake the thought of how absurd I must look being marched along Las Vegas Boulevard in broad daylight, tail twitching with agitation I couldn’t entirely contain.
Then came the steps.
I heard Graham start up them and hesitated long enough to register the incline.
Stairs. In heels. Blindfolded.
I pasted on a smile.
“Little heads-up next time.” I kept my tone playful as I found the railing and locked on, trusting the metal bar to stand between me and a very unglamorous faceplant.
Graham didn’t answer, just gave my hand a squeeze and tugged me up one step then another. My calves tensed as my balance shifted, making every movement more complicated than it should’ve been. I felt like a newborn foal finding its footing for the first time.
But no one watching would’ve known. I kept my posture perfect, my lips curved, and my chin tilted to suggest I was enjoying myself.
It was a performance—gliding through awkwardness like it was part of the show—and I was nothing if not an expert performer.
At least here, no one was shouting over raucous music or palming my ass while I tried to balance a drink tray.
The final step brought with it a wash of cool air, and suddenly we were inside. The distant ringing of slot machines and chattering voices clued me in to our mystery destination.
If Graham wanted to impress me, he would have to do better than a casino.
But the gaming floor wasn’t the endgame.
Graham was not the kind of man to be wooed by penny slots or low-bid tables.
He led me on, venturing deeper into the building.
Thankfully, there were no more stairs, but we wound through enough turns and corridors that I started to feel disoriented.
I walked halls I couldn’t see and passed machines that shrieked with jackpot alarms while the world spun behind satin.
Graham talked, but I’d stopped registering his words. My senses were off-kilter, focused on everything but the fantasy he was trying to build.
The creak of a door opening brought me to a halt as the unease that had been simmering finally boiled over. This was definitely not fun. It was claustrophobic and exhausting.
I yanked my arm free of Graham’s grip and tore the mask off in one smooth motion.
Sight rushed in like a blast of fresh air.
We stood in a wide corridor, lined with plush carpet and lit by wall-mounted sconces. In the warm golden glow, it didn’t take long for my eyes to adjust. I blinked then scanned for any clue as to which den of sin I’d been led into.
White and gold abounded. Not the signature style of most demonic establishments.
We leaned toward decadent dark velvet with pops of lustful red or moody purple.
This building was every bit the opposite.
Brass gleamed. Ivory glowed. Crystals glinted.
And if that wasn’t evidence enough that I was very much out of my element, there were wings on everything.
Wings flanked the light fixtures. Wings unfurled from the backs of the painted figures lining the corridor. The ceiling was a mural of clouds and clear blue skies, populated by scores of graceful, glorious… angels.
Suddenly, the blindfold was the least of my problems.
When I stopped, Graham did too. He stood there in his bespoke suit with his mustache waxed into twin curls like some kind of cartoon villain, and his brows knitted together.
“Luxe?” he asked. “What’s the problem?”
My heart skipped a beat, and not in the romantic way.
Licking my lips, I glanced back the way we’d come.
At least, the way I thought we’d come. The hall was long with a bend that obscured its end from view.
But even if I could see other side of the tunnel, these buildings were massive.
Most casinos could swallow you whole and still make room for thousands of machines, tables, and half a dozen themed bars.
If I wandered out alone, I could get turned around fast and draw attention from all the wrong people.
Behind Graham, the open door yawned wide. There was a party going on inside, some kind of private event with an exclusive guestlist. But I couldn’t go in there. Not in an angel-owned casino with my horns peeking through my hair and my tail thrashing.
“Graham, honey,” I began, injecting as much sweetness as possible into my tone, “I can’t be here.”
It was likely an honest mistake. Graham was a human and not versed in angel-demon politics. The division of Las Vegas territory had been an inside job. A quiet agreement. Better the mortals thought they still had a stake in this place, or we might have a war on our hands.
Graham’s frown deepened. “But, princess, I wanna show you off. And my buddies are waiting…” A cheer burst from the room, and he leaned toward the sound.
There could have been anything from a kink club to a craps table in there, but it didn’t matter. I wasn’t welcome in this place. All it took was one angel thinking I was here to make some kind of statement, and Graham’s big surprise would become a hill I might die on.
My tail—always the most honest part of me—flicked as I slipped closer.
“Are you really gonna make me wait to wrap my mouth around that thick, gorgeous cock of yours?” I purred, fingers walking up his chest. “I’ll blow you right now, in the car.
Then again when we get back to your hotel. You want that, don’t you?”
Graham’s blue eyes glazed. “Yeah,” he said hoarsely. “I want that.”
“Of course you do.” I traced a lazy circle on his lapel, manicured nails grazing the fabric.
He glanced back at the doorway, pitching slightly toward it. “What if we duck in for just a minute?”