4. Anders
Anders
W hatever address was given to Martin and Nikolai, it isn’t the same as the one that was given to me. Mine leads me to a darkened dry cleaner business—obviously closed, and obviously not a sex club. Per the instructions, I press the small white button next to the door. A light clicks on and a burly man with long hair, a braided beard, and a black mask that covers his eyes appears from the back to unlock it for me.
A faint red glow appears in the back of the space, coming from an open door leading to a brick hallway. After he shuts and relocks the door, he turns to me and holds out a mask like his, voice gruff with a faint southern twang as he says, “Name’s Ray. Rules are rules. I know what you’re here for, so no intake for you. Wear the mask at all times. Don’t touch the Angels, not even the ones that want to be touched. ”
“ Angels ?” He leads me to the hall, where numerous other doors lead to who knows where. I make a mental note to find out just how big this place is and how many other businesses it can be accessed from. It’s dark, and anyone could easily slip in and out without being seen. Tying the mask around my eyes, I check out the ceiling and corners of the walls, searching for any type of surveillance.
Ray lets out a deep, throaty chuckle. “The bosses didn’t prepare you for shit, did they? I’ll take you to Luca. He can sort you out.”
Luca . Carmela mentioned him earlier about being as good as a bodyguard, but he’s the son of someone she and the senator are at odds with. Between leaving headquarters, and waiting to come to Désirer, I did my homework—pulled files on the Morronis and their other silent partner, Jackson Tailor. Pieced together that Morroni was doing back alley deals through the club, and Mick didn’t want to be involved with it, so he cut him loose before bringing Jackson’s deceased uncle into the fold. Since the club is being protected by upper law enforcement, it was the perfect place for Morroni to run his shady deals. I didn’t blame Mick for wanting to cut ties, but I’m curious as to why Carmela thought she needed to keep his men around—specifically Luca.
“The other two are already off exploring. Got themselves their own set of angel wings somehow, been funnier than hell watching them all night,” Ray states as we come to the end of the hall, where there’s a heavy dark door.
For some reason, this guy knows who Martin, Nikolai, and I are when there’s no need to—just another tick on my mental list of things to look into or bring up to Carmela. The less people who know about us, the better. She heard the guys. They can’t be silent assassins if everyone is in the know.
Music pumps through the door as soon as Ray opens it. It’s not very loud, but I can still hear it over the crowd bustling about the space we’ve just walked into. I think I get the concept of the Angels as I follow Ray slowly. There are women and men dressed in lingerie, wearing feathery wings on their backs. Some are light gold, some are black, but the majority of them are platinum-colored. I’m guessing these are the people who work here since that’s the main thing setting them apart from the patrons who are dressed in everything from lingerie to business casual attire.
“This here’s the Grand Room. It’s where everyone congregates before going on their way for the evening.” Ray lifts a hand and motions to someone at the giant oval bar in the middle of the room while I take in the rest of the place. It’s all brown furniture and muted red walls, a somewhat achromatic palette so the Angels can shine.
I feel Luca’s presence behind me before turning my attention to him. He’s six feet like I am, but bigger. I pride myself on my body—working out, and taking care of myself—but the muscle mass this man carries would slow me down while in the field. He’s dressed in all black leather—pants and a vest just like Ray, with a simple mask tied around his brown eyes.
“No one filled him in on how we run things around here. Figured you can be the one to do it since you know it better than anyone,” Ray tells him.
Luca sizes me up before jerking his head toward the bar, his deep voice booming around us without effort. “What’s your drink of choice?”
“I’ll take a beer. Not picky.” I won’t drink it anyway. I’m here for a job, not to get drunk.
He motions for me to follow him, nodding at a guy with shaggy blond hair behind the bar. “Jace, get this guy a beer. He says he’s not picky.” He talks to the bartender but doesn’t take his eyes off me. “This place is pretty straightforward. Angels wear the wings, obviously. There are three tiers—gold, black, and platinum—for three different halls of the club. Gold is Confessional, which means talking only, no touching allowed. Black is Dreamers. You can touch, but no sex. Platinum is Desires, and anything goes in that hall. It’s the largest of the three and where the monthly shows are hosted.”
Luca taps a black metal card on the bar with a gold feather embossed on the front, giving it to Jace to swipe after he sets a beer in front of me. “Drinks are included with membership, but anything you want is on the house while you and your friends are here, since you’re not members.”
“Where are Mar–”
“We don’t use our real names here. Very few of us don’t take on a pseudonym, but we still try to limit using our real names,” Luca cuts me off. Jace brings the card back, and Luca slides it into his wallet. “We’re opening up the Desires hall to let people in. Madame will be out soon to start the show.”
I snort. “ Madame ? Seriously?” If Carmela thinks I’m going to call her Madame, she’s got another thing coming.
Luca pins me with a cold glare. “You got a problem with the boss?”
Yeah. My problem is that I want to tear her fucking clothes off with my teeth even though she’s a prostitute.
Finding out Carmela is the person I was hired to protect throws a wrench in all my plans. I had planned on her returning to my room tonight, and I was damn sure she’d show up. I planned on stocking up on condoms so I could fuck her senseless all night long. I planned on getting so acquainted with her pussy that there was no doubt in her mind about my confidence.
I did not fucking plan on her being the target. I did not fucking plan on her being the senator’s mistress.
And I sure as hell do not fucking plan on calling her Madame.
“No problem. Not gonna fucking call her Madame, though.” I slide off the stool and fall into step beside him as we head across the room.
“You’ll call her whatever she wants you to call her. I don’t give a damn who you are. You put on a show when you’re under this roof, and you show some respect. You’re here to do a job, and that means blending in. If she asks you to join her, you do it. If she asks you to crawl to her, you get on your goddamn knees and crawl. And if she asks you to touch her—and you don’t touch anyone unless they give you permission—you better fucking touch her. Do you understand?” Luca growls, mindful of keeping his voice low so others don’t overhear him.
But fuck everything he just said.
“I wouldn’t touch her with a ten-foot pole,” I spit out, even though I know if she asked, I’d oblige.
Luca turns to look at me, but his eyes dart over my shoulder. Whatever he’s about to say dies on his lips as Carmela steps around me, eyes narrowed through a delicate white lace mask.
My cock instantly springs to attention as I take her in, and I’m thankful for the low lighting coming from the giant chandelier in the middle of the Grand Room. Her skin shimmers with glitter, silver strappy heels winding their way up her calves. The lingerie she wears is all straps—thick, satiny bands that cover just enough while still somehow managing to leave a little mystery. They wind around her breasts and down her stomach, over her hips to cover the apex of her thighs, secured by metal loops in circular shapes. The wings on her back are more prominent than any other Angels’. Where everyone else’s wings reach their waists, hers drip nearly to the floor, with thick, soft-looking feathers that are pure white.
She looks like an actual angel about to commit the sweetest sin.
“It’s okay, Luca,” she croons, her voice like silk as it slides over my skin. “I only invite confident men to play with me. Not cocky, arrogant assholes.”
Taking a step toward me, her eyes dip down to my erection as she raises an eyebrow. “Go ahead and explore, smooth guy. But don’t attend the show. No one needs your judgmental ass in there making them feel less than .”
She turns to leave and I reach out for her arm, but the second I move, Luca steps between us. “I told you, no touching unless given permission,” he snarls.
Carmela watches me over his shoulder, curiosity flaring brightly in her dark eyes. “He’s fine, Luca. You heard him. He has no intention of touching me.” Walking away, she throws over her shoulder, “If I catch you in my playroom, all bets are off, smooth guy. You're fair game.”
What the fuck is that supposed to mean?
Luca continues to glare at me as he follows her, walking backward to maintain eye contact until they reach the large double doors that are now wide open, and disappear down the hall. It’s darker in there, the only light a red glow like the one in the hall from the dry cleaners.
Without realizing I’ve even moved, I find myself standing at the entrance. It’s like walking into the second circle of Hell from Dante’s Inferno. But I find that I can’t stop myself as I move in closer, watching as the crowd parts for Carmela to weave her way in and out of the patrons.
Her voice fills the giant space, filtering through a speaker system as she talks into a microphone. “Have you ever had a desire so dark you wouldn't dare speak it out loud? You've buried it so deep in the depths of your soul, but it's always there. Wanting. Waiting for the moment you set it free.” Everyone hangs on her every word. Confidence drips from her honeyed tone, and there’s no doubt that every single person in this room wants to fuck her. “Our Temptangels will awaken your deepest hunger. Here, you can feast until you're satiated.” She runs a hand along the back of a shirtless man before stroking the side of a female’s face beside him. “Here, you can be whoever you want and do whatever you wish—with consent, of course. Whether a woman or a man, or both if you prefer, your pleasure is their delight. So, pick your Angel and let your dreams take flight. Welcome to Désirer.”
By the time she’s finished speaking, I’ve made it to the edge of the crowd. Our eyes lock as she turns, and a Chesire grin spreads her crimson-painted lips wide. All eyes are still on her as she saunters toward me with calculated steps. She said if I came in, that I was fair game.
I want to know what she means.
Lifting the microphone, she lilts, “Looks like I found a new puppy to play with tonight.” She wraps her hand around my neck, dragging my face down to run her tongue up the side of my face, chin to temple, before whispering in my ear, “I should put you on a leash with a ten-foot lead.”
Her words slither over my body. Lust-fueled snakes that wrap around my cock and point it in her direction. I grab her hips and grind myself against her, eliciting a gasp that sounds like music to my ears.
Her hands fly to my biceps, steadying herself as she presses up on her toes and slides back down against me. “I like it when people watch me, smooth guy. If you aren’t careful, I’ll chain you up and make you my bitch again in front of everyone. So either watch your cocky mouth, or stay far, far away from me. Got it?”
God, her mouth makes me want to force her to her knees and shut her up by stuffing it full of my cock. I wonder what she’d do if I did that right here in the middle of the room.
Probably try to bite it off.
She exudes determination and pure defiance. I want to fuck it out of her. She continues to grind against me as I tell her, “You can’t teach an old dog new tricks, baby. Dobermans bite. Hard .”
Stretching up, she nibbles the base of my neck before biting down roughly. “I bite harder,” she says through a mouthful of my flesh. “And I’m a good trainer.”
Letting go of me with an audible pop, she storms away through the crowd, heading back toward the Grand Room. I follow, watching as she fidgets like she’s turned on—squeezing her legs together with small steps, running her hands up her sides to softly caress every inch of bare skin. Luca is nowhere to be found as she makes her way through the room and down another red-lit hallway, disappearing through one of the doors.
It isn’t shut when I approach it, but I close it behind me, finding myself in what I assume is her office. There’s a large L-shaped desk with a massive monitor on the curve, a black leather sofa along one wall, and an entire dressing area in the corner where racks of glittery costumes are rolled halfway into a bathroom. The only light comes from an ornate lamp in a corner that looks like a tree sprouting up from the base into multiple plumes that glow.
“Look, either we fuck this out of our system, or you tell Mick and the others that this isn’t the job for you,” she snaps, her saccharine tone turning to steel as she rips the mask from her face and shrugs out of her wings .
I laugh as I watch her, lying through my teeth as I reply, “I’m not touching you again.”
“Oh, what, Anders? You don’t want anything to do with me because you’re not the only man who’s graced my bed? For someone who hijacked my cab and practically demanded I fuck him, you sure are a fucking prude.” She grabs a black silky robe trimmed in lace and hurriedly ties the sash around her waist.
I pull the mask from my face, standing there helplessly as she puts on more clothes, even though I want to shred the straps and watch her glorious tits bounce in my face while I fuck her against the wall. “I don’t want anything to do with you because you’re a filthy fucking slut.”
New York is turning me into a liar of epic proportions. I want Carmela more than I’ve wanted anything in my life. Even more than…
No.
That’s exactly why I can’t want her.
That, and the fact that she didn’t deny she warms the senator’s bed.
“Oh, Anders. Are you trying to convince me or yourself?” She walks over to me, hips swaying with every step until we’re standing toe to toe, chest to chest, like earlier. “You think I don’t notice the way you look at me? The fact that I’m a filthy slut makes you want to do depraved things to me, doesn’t it? It makes you want to do things that you think you’re sick for wanting. But you’re so curious. For just one more taste. One more touch. One more fucking moment to know what I feel like wrapped around you.”
I can feel and smell the fruity breath of her words ghosting over my mouth. My hands clench at my sides, and I fight not to swallow, knowing the movement will touch my lips to hers. I’m rock hard behind my pants, and with how tightly she presses against me, she knows it.
She waits for what feels like minutes. Minutes where I silently agree with everything she says because now that I know what type of woman she is, I want to bend her over and fuck the aggression out of us both, with no remorse. I want to throw her around and be rough with her. Show her that she’s wrong about me and that I’m not just a cocky prick, but that I can fuck her better than any man before me ever has.
Finally, she smirks, her hand sliding over my erection as she steps away. “I thought so. Have a good night, you cocky prick,” she deadpans.
Her dismissal pisses me off, but I force myself to leave her office, tying my mask back on as I walk out to the Grand Room with only one thought running through my mind.
I’m completely and utterly fucked.