Chapter Five
In which some girls will just not take no for an answer.
Roman…
"We're at capacity tonight." Ivan, my second, watches the flow of masked guests moving from the huge reception area of Sinful Secrets into smaller rooms, quieter corridors. They are here to enjoy the show or put one on themselves.
We're standing in front of a bank of monitors, rapidly shifting security cameras showing every square foot of the club. Masked guards patrol all the floors, and I've hired experts to supervise each play area to make certain that an overly enthusiastic guest doesn't cause harm…
Unless their partner asks for it.
There is always something to be learned. A politician who is led around on a leash and a collar, or an A-list actor who wants to be whipped until his ass is raw.
Information is power. And my memory is excellent.
There's a flash of purple in my peripheral vision and my head snaps to the monitor on the far right. A gorgeous violet dress, it must be silk, flowing over the long legs of…
"Violet! What the hell is she thinking?"
Ivan leans close, watching her make her way through the crowd, smiling politely, but turning away from anyone who tries to touch her.
"What color bracelet is she wearing?" he asks.
"Pink," I say between gritted teeth. Every bracelet's color means something different. By requesting the pink one, Violet is indicating that she's here to watch, but she wouldn't mind joining in. I question whether my front desk hostesses are explaining the rules clearly enough.
Violet's wearing a black lace mask, but I know it's her instantly by the thick flow of chestnut-colored curls down her back, the feline way her body moves, and I'll never forget how her hips swayed like they did that night in the garden.
"Do you want me to have her escorted out quietly?" Ivan eyes me cautiously.
"No. I'll take care of this myself."
Oh, have the haughty fallen. I laugh, remembering that night in the garden, when she'd scathingly said, "I'm not going to your sex club to find you."
But, here she is.
She's standing in a corner of a ropes and bondage room, holding an untouched glass of wine.
The space is lush, with walls painted a deep red and several low tables filled with pillows, used more as platforms to perform than a place to rest a drink.
She's ventured into an area that is especially popular with voyeurs; two of my best bondage experts are tying eager participants into exotic shapes with Shibari rope.
One woman is swinging, suspended by a hook in the ceiling with one knee up and her head back, eyes blissfully closed as her partner swings her up and down on his cock.
The air feels thick; sweat and perfume and pheromones.
The soundtrack of the moans and slapping of flesh drowns out the guests' whispers.
Stepping up behind her, I fasten my hands around her waist like manacles. "If you were really this interested, all you had to do is say so," I whisper in her ear as she stiffens.
"Maybe I am," she hisses under her breath as two people look over their shoulders to nod and smile at us.
I'm the only one who doesn't wear a mask at Sinful Secrets.
The man looks familiar, the CEO of an architecture firm I think, and he's blatantly staring at Violet, his gaze making a leisurely circuit of her breasts and her toned thigh peeking out from a slit in her dress.
Leaning closer without letting go of Violet, I enjoy watching him stumble back. "Enjoy the show, Morgan," I whisper, just loud enough for him to hear. He pales under his mask, nodding and leaving the room with undignified speed.
"Well, that's rude," Violet whispers. "I thought everyone was supposed to be anonymous here?"
The other Shibari artist finishes his work. His subject is displayed with her arms tied back in a series of intricate knots; she looks like an angel with her wings bound. He pulls one rope tight and she gasps as he spins her, raising her higher until his mouth is on her breast.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" I murmur to Violet.
Her eyes are wide behind her mask and her lips are parted just slightly.
She has her arms folded, which is a shame because I can't tell if this little show is making her nipples hard.
"Look at her, fragile, yet strong enough to hold her position to please him.
" Violet draws in a deep, shuddering sigh, I'm not sure if she knows that she did.
Drawing my knuckles down the line of her neck to her shoulder, I whisper, "Imagine the freedom of being bound so tightly, only able to take what's given to you. "
The woman, bound in her angel pose is getting louder, her hoarse cries of, "Fuck! Goddamnit!" are not at all angelic. Her Dom is fucking her, holding her breasts roughly, using them like handles to move her on and off his cock. The audience draws closer, rapt, eyes glazed and needy..
"They need her to come almost as badly as she needs to." My lips brush against Violet's delicate ear. "Can you feel it?" She has such pretty, flushed skin when she's aroused, her stiff shoulders are softening against my chest. "Do you want her to come, too, sweet Violet? Will you come with her?"
She snaps out of her daze, stepping away from me so fast she stumbles. I catch her arm before she can fall.
Her lips tighten quickly, and she shakes her head. "Can we talk somewhere quiet?"
I pull her out into the hallway, as the screams of the bound woman and the moans of the audience rise together.
Violet keeps her gaze straight ahead, walking past couples and threesomes kissing and fondling each other.
A couple of women reach out invitingly, trailing their fingers along Violet's arm, before they recognize me.
They pull their hands back quickly when I sternly shake my head.
"What was that?" Violet asks.
"No one touches unless you've given them permission here," I say. "But you're wearing that bracelet." I nod to it, and she holds up her hand, the pink band glittering under the low light.
"Oh, this is the one the hostess gave me," she says. "I told her I was here to take a look around."
My jaw tightens. "Then she gave you the wrong bracelet. That's going to be addressed. Pink signals that you're here to watch but you don't mind jumping in if you're invited."
"Oh, God!" Violet puts her hand behind her back. "No. No jumping in." She glances at me out of the corner of her eye and sees my grin, her eyes narrow back. "At least not this time."
"And how, Violet darling, did you gain entrance?" I take her arm, leading her around another group of people writhing together on an enormous bed. "Admission to Sinful Secrets is by invitation only, and you, darling, did not have one."
"Maybe I know one of your members," she says.
"Oh, I'll be following up on that." She had to give a name to the front desk. A member sponsoring a newcomer is always clearly logged. Is it a man? Someone she dated? My hand closes into a fist.
Violet's steps become quicker and more purposeful as we pass certain rooms. She doesn't like the St. Andrews Cross or the cage where a pet is being taken on both ends.
We pass a bedroom with a viewing window where a man is chained to the bed as his master toys with him, lightly tapping a riding crop along his sweating skin.
She slows down again for just a moment. I hear her mumble something about, "Larry would love that," before I pull her along.
When we reach my office, I close the door and the silence is absolute. It can be jarring after the constant soundtrack of gasps, moans, and whimpers throughout the club, but she sighs in relief, the tight line of her body softens.
"Is there a reason that your office looks like an old English library?
" Violet strolls over to the shelves, running her fingers along the spines of the leather-bound books.
She's not wrong, this building used to belong to an oil baron in the 1940's.
The bookshelves are beautifully carved wood, surrounding a fireplace and two stained glass windows.
"Take a closer look," I say, heading over to the bar and pouring myself a drink. I watch her pull a book out and her cheeks flush.
"Delta of Venus, by Ana?s Nin?" Violet pushes the book back in its place, taking out another one. "Lessons in Sin…" She checks the next book's cover and bursts into laughter. "Ice Planet Barbarians? The full series? Is your entire library sex books?"
"'Sex should be a perfect balance of pain and pleasure. Cruelty, very far from being a vice, is the first sentiment Nature injects in us all'." I recite.
"Please tell me that's not from Ice Planet Barbarians," she says.
Bursting into laughter, I shake my head. "The master. Marquis de Sade. You could fill a hundred thousand libraries with the collective works of erotic authors over the years," I say, holding up a bottle of wine and she nods. "I have six editions of the Kama Sutra alone."
"A well-read pervert," she says. "Impressive."
"I've dedicated myself to my craft." I smile salaciously, enjoying the smooth slope of her breasts in her pretty purple dress as I tap my glass to hers.
"Are we talking about the murdering part now or the sex part?" she asks, taking a sip.
Pressing her back against the bookshelf, I run my fingers down the soft skin of her throat. "There's a certain art and poetry to both. Why are you here, Violet? I've already given you my answer."
"That's why I'm here," she says breathlessly, body rigid. Oh, she wants to shove me away, but she doesn't. "I'm not giving up. I need you."
She does. But not in the way she's thinking.
I take her drink, setting it down with mine.
She's quite aware that I haven't moved, sandwiching her between the books and me.
Her breath is coming faster as she looks up, her eyes shining amber in the low light.
My thigh's pushed between hers and I can feel the diamond points of her nipples pressing against me.
"Well, aren't you a surprise," I murmur, my hand sliding up to cup the back of her neck, my thumb stroking over her rapid pulse. "I think you did enjoy your tour of the club, didn't you?"
"It was very educational," she says primly. "Will you hear me out? Please? Give me that."
"It's going to cost you," I warn. "I'm a busy man."
She clearly wants to roll her eyes, but she sighs instead. "Tell me, oh busy Russian Bratva professional and erotic novel enthusiast, what will I have to pay for a moment of your time?"
"A kiss." Her skin is so fucking soft, and that citrusy scent of hers is stronger.
"Is this a standard Bratva negotiation?"
"This is a freelance gig," I remind her. "That means I can make it up as I go along."
"That seems unfair." She closes her eyes, though, tilting her chin up invitingly.
So, I wait.
Finally, her eyes open. "I thought you wanted a kiss?"
"I do." My arm is wrapped around her waist, feeling the softness and give of her. "Kiss me."
Violet arches one elegant brow. "Oh, I'm doing all the work? Fine." She goes up on tiptoe, sliding her fingers through my hair, scratching my scalp slightly and sending a bolt of lightning through my cock.
Her lips are blazingly hot.
I've kissed a thousand women and never had a kiss like this, like fire and my cock is instantly hard.
I want to know if she feels just as hot inside.
Sliding my tongue along the seam of her lips, I grunt as she opens her mouth, letting me play.
My arm tightens as I straighten up, lifting her with me.
She grabs a fistful of my hair and I laugh as she tugs it.
"Beautiful," I say, my voice husky.
"Roman?"
"Hmm?"
"Can you put me down, please?" Violet asks, licking her lips. "You're cutting off the circulation in my legs."
I loosen my grip, sliding her down slowly, making sure she feels my cock, hard enough to pound nails. Stepping back, I grab my drink and down it. "Sit down." I gesture to the couch. "Tell me what's changed."
"One of The Chads dropped by Hope House today. He looked like his Gucci suit was being tainted just by standing in our front lobby."
"Did you throw him out?" I ask, handing her the wine glass and she hastily takes a fortifying gulp.
"He lured me into having lunch with him with a promise of a donation." She frowns. "I can't believe I was such a sucker."
"Did he proposition you?" I ask. "Threaten you?"
"More the latter," she says. "He initiated a very strange conversation about raising well-bred children from superior breeding stock. In this case, I believe the breeding stock he was referring to was me and my sisters."
This motherfucker, I think.
"I'm assuming he's doing this with Jack's full blessing?"
"I believe that's the plan." Standing up, she paces the office. "I think The Chads are planning to hold my sisters hostage to get me there. That's short-sighted because they've been staying with me. I can keep them hidden, but it's not a long-term solution."
She helps herself to another glass of wine at the bar.
"You should have heard him. His obsession with his perfect potential wife and child.
And this corporate retreat?" Violet rubs her bare arms. "The way he was talking about it, it had a very cult-like feel.
You know all those dipshit frat boys and their initiations, where they wear robes and chant a bunch of Latin?
This feels like the grown-up, extra creepy extension of their happy fraternity years. "
"Come, sit down." I hold my hand out and she slowly takes it, sitting next to me.
Lifting her chin, I hold her gaze, "I want you to understand what you're asking for.
I will not lose sleep if I kill Jack. But you will have to face the fallout.
Your mother. The realization of what you've chosen here. "
She doesn't look away. "I've thought of every possible way to discourage Jack, a million scenarios to magically force him to disappear.
But now, it's all so much worse, since you've told me about…
" She waves her hand, "The whole global horribleness of Jack.
And it just keeps getting worse. He's not going to let go of his only way out of the hole he's dug for himself.
I'm not letting him bury my sisters and mother with him. "
"Violets look fragile," I say, cupping her cheek. "But they're the first to bloom in a frozen St. Petersburg spring, fighting their way through the snow. You are well-named."
The hope is her eyes is almost painful to see.
"Does this mean you'll help me?" she whispers.
"Yes. I'm going to kill Jack. You have my word. In fact, I'm going to enjoy it."
Her arms wrap around me, squeezing tightly. "Thank you," she whispers, her face buried in my neck. "Thank you so much."
I should keep my distance. This is a business transaction. But the sheer relief on her pretty face, the warmth of her body pressing against mine… I lean in, letting myself enjoy it.