Chapter 3
RAINA
Saying yes was surprisingly easy for me.
Of course, my scaredy-cat, good-girl side keeps screaming at me, telling me I’m crazy.
Then my bolder side, the Raina that has held back for far too long, steps up.
This side tells me that I deserve this. After settling for Jeremy’s crumbs and insults masked as brutal truths, I deserve to sink into the arms of men who might actually help me trust my instincts again.
And if this week comes with an all-you-can-eat buffet of thrilling sensations and mind-blowing orgasms, why the heck not?
This interior battle ensues every minute of every hour. I breathe in deeply, smiling as the flowery scent of fabric softener rises from my chef’s uniform. I’m headed downstairs, eager to start the day.
At the bottom of the stairs, Deanna is waiting.
“Good morning, sunshine,” she says. Her smile gives me mixed feelings because her eyes are cold. “How are you settling in?”
“Good morning,” I reply. “Great, thank you. It takes a while getting used to the whole vibe, but most of my work is in the kitchen, which is also my happy place, so I’m good.”
“I can tell.”
I give her a confused smile. “You can tell what?”
“That the kitchen is your happy place,” Deanna says judgmentally while looking me up and down.
I don’t usually respond to remarks about my body.
I’ve dealt with bullies of all shapes and sizes my whole life, and I’ve never let them stop me from experiencing happiness and fulfillment until I met Jeremy, that is.
I dropped my guard with him, but I swore to myself that I’d never let that happen again.
I know Deanna is just trying to get a reaction out of me, but I refuse to give her the satisfaction. Instead, I look her dead in the eye and say, “Whatever floats your boat, Deanna,” I say. “So tell me, how did you get into this line of work?”
“This line of work?” She raises an eyebrow, eager to pick a fight.
She’s just like I thought: frustrated, small-minded, the kind of person who takes their crap out on anyone who happens to cross their path and is in any way successful.
She’s beautiful, I’ll give her that, gorgeous, even, but intense.
In fact, she’s so intense, she vibrates like she’s plugged in.
But deep down, I know there’s a wounded little girl, still lashing out.
“How did you come to work at Haus of Sin?” I calmly ask. “Have you always wanted to do this?”
“I had other plans, but life is fluid, and I happen to be very good at what I do here.”
“What do you do, exactly?” I question, my tongue sharper than ever. “You’re a hostess, right? You’re assigned a guest, you show them around, you cater to their needs, particularly in the bedroom, right?”
“It’s more complex than that. Oversimplifying it in such a way makes it sound obscene.”
“But that’s what you do, isn’t it?”
Deanna’s luscious red lips stretch into a cruel grin.
“I have a body and a personality that men deeply desire. When I give an order, they obey. When I move, they follow me like puppy dogs.” She pointed to me with one manicured finger.
“Someone like you could never understand the power I have. My guess is you’ve always had to settle for somebody else’s sloppy seconds, or worse, some chubby chaser who had no intention of ever making you a part of his life. ”
Deanna’s anger surprises me. She has more venom in her than I thought. I swallow a mixture of anger and tears, working hard to keep a straight face as I raise my chin in defiance.
“Your guess is wrong,” I say. “But I do understand and appreciate the power you hold over men. I admire it, actually. What I don’t like is that you use that power as an excuse to feel superior to women who don’t look like you.
It’s the mark of an ignorant, arrogant, self-conscious woman, and it makes you ugly as hell. ”
With that, I walk away.
Evening settles over this part of Silver Star Mountain with a pitch-black sky sprinkled with stars.
Lights flicker along the estate’s main walkway, then stretch around the property, their glow amplified by the thick layer of snow still covering almost everything in sight.
It’s eerily beautiful when admired from a window in the comfort of a warm room.
I’m nervous, watching as the limos and shiny black SUVs pull up outside the estate’s main entrance. Five vehicles, each carrying precious, high-paying cargo. I know them all from the list Alex provided.
“And so it begins,” Max chuckles softly behind me.
I give him a quick glance, briefly mesmerized by how good he looks in the custom-tailored black suit with an emerald-green bow tie that brings out the green in his eyes. His hair is combed and slicked back. His smile slices into my very core without a shred of mercy.
“I was just curious,” I reply. “Matty’s getting the plates warmed as we speak.”
“I’m not worried. I just popped by to say hello.”
He steps closer. We’re nestled by the window on the left side of the lobby, with a great view of the front steps. “Ah, here they come,” he mutters, watching them like a hawk.
Alex is outside, elegantly clad in a dark grey suit. Steam rolls from his lips as he greets the incoming guests, and I take a moment to admire his massive frame. The man would look good in anything, even a burlap sack.
“That’s Genevieve Madison of the New York Madisons,” I say, recognizing the first guest, “CEO and heiress, if I remember correctly.”
“That is correct,” Max replies.
His hand rests on the small of my back. Playful chills dance up my spine in response, but my gaze is focused on the incoming guests. Our hosts greet them individually as Alex introduces them, each looking like fairy-tale creatures with sinful beauty.
“Okay, so Ms. Madison gets Magnus, the Wolf,” I chuckle softly.
“She likes it rough,” Max says, “wild and bumpy. Magnus is precisely what the doctor prescribed for a woman like Genevieve.”
“How do you pair them?” I ask.
“Interviews, personality tests, an in-depth look at their proclivities,” he replies.
“We’ve come to know our clients well over the years, and not just through Haus of Sin.
We meet them at business summits, negotiations, and economic forums around the world.
We share a few drinks, we talk, we do a background check, and once we’re satisfied that they can be trusted, we send out the invitations. ”
His hand moves lower, fingers seemingly frustrated by the fabric of my white slacks. I moan softly when it sneaks under my chef’s tunic, then slips beneath the waist of my pants.
I look around, relieved nobody can see what’s happening.
“We shouldn’t do this,” I whisper with a ragged breath.
“You gave yourself to us, Raina. It’s part of the experience,” he growls in my ear.
At the same time, his fingers slide between my buttocks and farther down. He finds me slick and hot and aching to be filled. I hold on to the black velvet drape for dear life. Outside, a second guest walks up the stairs.
“Who’s that?” Max’s lips brush over my earlobe, and I struggle to remain conscious as I follow his gaze. He kisses the side of my neck. His fingers tease my entrance.
“That’s… oh, God…”
“Focus, Raina.”
“John Quincy III, oil tycoon and red-blooded Texan, a hard-ass, from what I remember. Runs his oil fields with an iron fist,” I manage as Max slips a finger inside me.
“Smart girl.”
“Oh…”
Quincy gets Deanna, the Fox. She’s a dominatrix, and he wants to be dominated, he wants to be the one who gets whipped, for once.
It makes sense in a sick and crazy kind of way, but who am I to judge when I’m hiding behind a velvet curtain in my chef’s uniform and getting deliciously fingered by one of my bosses?
Tension builds in my core. I clench myself tightly around his finger and tilt my head back to rest it on his shoulder, but Max clicks his teeth and backs away.
“Oh, no, you don’t get off that easily,” he says, his hunger coming off him in waves. “You still have a dinner to prepare, don’t you?”
“Yes,” I manage, suddenly feeling empty and cold.
“I need you to focus on that,” he says, licking his finger with a devilish smile. “Hm. I can see why Alex was so enthralled after the playroom. You really do taste like heaven, Raina.”
I lower my gaze; my cheeks flushed with arousal and shameful delight, but I love the feeling. I adore the naughtiness they bring out in me, their lack of boundaries, the excitement, the complete abandonment of the good girl I once was. I need more of it.
“I should go back into the kitchen. We’re about to…” My voice trails off as I gaze out the window one more time and recognize William Bancroft. “Holy crap.”
Why didn’t his name ring a bell when I first read it on Alex’s brief?
“What is it?” Max asks.
“I know that guy from the papers, from Vivian’s social media, too…”
“Vivian?”
“My best friend. She’s a junior associate with Bancroft & Associates,” I say. “I didn’t make the connection right away…”
Max nods slowly. “Probably because we kept their business identities out of the brief.”
On Alex’s list, each of the guests was loosely described in terms of who they are, but without specifically mentioning their company names or associations.
There were plenty of notes about personalities, though.
Of course, the business details don’t really matter in Haus of Sin, not after the ridiculous fees they paid to get in, and not after they were invited to come. What a brilliant business model.
“Is he going to be a problem?” Max inquires.
I shake my head. “No, he doesn’t know me personally. Has no idea who I am. It’s fine. It’s just kind of awkward seeing him here.”
“I’ll go into the dining room to make sure everything is set with the service staff,” Max says. “And I will see you later, Raina.”
It’s a promise.