Chapter 2
Two
ROME
“Mr. Alexander?”
I turn and lift an eyebrow at Beth, one of my new employees whose job is to keep the clients happy in my club’s playroom. She’s beautiful, playful, bisexual, and has quickly become a member favorite. “Yes, Beth?”
“Um.” She twists her hands at her waist and fidgets back and forth on her dainty feet. Beth is a tiny woman with fake tits that are on full display and long, riotous red hair.
“You can speak freely,” I add, ghosting my fingers over her bare shoulder.
She looks around nervously as if she doesn’t want our conversation to be overheard.
“You mentioned that I should let you know if I noticed anything … wrong. This is just my gut talking, and I know I’ve only been here for three months—”
“I trust your gut,” I reply and turn to lead her down the hallway to my office.
Owning one of the most prestigious sex clubs in the world comes with heavy responsibilities. My number one priority is safety for every person who walks through my doors seeking … well, whatever it is they’re looking for.
And when safety is compromised, we take out the garbage.
“Here,” I say once I’ve closed the door and stepped several feet away, putting plenty of space between us so she doesn’t feel any more intimidated than she already is.
Beth is small.
I’m a big man. A big, powerful man.
“What’s your gut telling you, Beth?” I ask, keeping my voice calm.
She nibbles on that bottom lip again, then props her hands on her nonexistent hips.
“There was a client last night.” She shakes her head as she looks at the floor. “I hadn’t seen him before, but that’s not unusual. Like I said, I haven’t been here that long, and people come and go, you know?”
I nod once, wishing she’d get to the point. I have members from all over the world who come to Las Vegas just for the experience they get at Rapture. Of course, Beth hasn’t seen all of them. She likely never will.
But something in her eyes shifts, and that has my attention.
“What did you see, Beth?”
“I’m no prude. Obviously, I’m a sex worker—”
“Beth.” My hard tone has her gaze whipping up to mine. “Tell me what you saw.”
“Experienced. This guy. He didn’t tell me his name. He … I didn’t like his smile, but whatever. He wanted to play with the spanking bench.”
I narrow my eyes. “Did you consent to that?”
“Yes, sir. I rather like to be spanked.” It’s endearing when she blushes.
“So I agreed and told him my safe word. But I asked Libby to watch because I didn’t like his smile, and I suspected something wasn’t …
right. I told her to make it out like she’s a voyeur, but really, I wanted someone else there. ”
“Good girl,” I say, pleased with the way she handled it so far.
Beth huffs out a breath. “I had to say my safe word three times before Libby finally stepped in and made him stop.”
Oh fuck no.
“Say that again.”
“I wasn’t quiet or coy, and I definitely wasn’t playing. I was firm, and I yelled it out because he got too rough. I thought he was going to break the skin, and I’m not into that.”
“What time was this?” I ask her. “And did my men get involved?”
“No,” she admits. “He stopped and apologized, said he was in the zone and didn’t hear me, but that’s not how it works.”
“No. That’s not how it works. Time?”
“Around one in the morning, I think.”
“I’ll check the security footage and find him. He won’t be back, and I apologize that that happened to you in my club.”
“It’s not your fault—”
“We screen our members thoroughly. That’s not acceptable. You’ll be compensated. Do you want tonight off?”
She blinks in surprise. “No, I’m fine, sir. You don’t have to pay me—”
“I will anyway. Are you sure you don’t need time off?”
She frowns as if she’s confused. “No, I’m happy to be here. I love this job. I was worried I’d be in trouble for telling you because I know it’s expensive to be a member here—”
“You’re not in trouble,” I assure her. “We have rules. End of. I’ll take care of this.”
She nods and heads for the door, which I open for her, and when she’s gone, I call Luke, my head of security and second-in-command, into my office.
“Hey, boss,” he says when he walks into the room. “It’s fucking busy tonight. It’s Wednesday. Why is it so packed in here on a Wednesday?”
“It’s Vegas, Luke. Every day is a holiday in Vegas. Beth, the new playroom girl, was just in here.”
“Yeah?” He grins. “Did you finally hit that? She’s fucking hot. A little small, but she really does it for the guys who have a daddy kink.”
I stare at him. Most men would wither under my glare, but Luke smirks, the asshole. “I don’t fuck any of the employees. You know that.”
He blows out a breath. “You should. Or the members, at the very least. You’d probably be less of a grouch.”
He’s one of the few people in this world who can get away with speaking to me the way he does.
And only because he’s my cousin.
“We have a problem.”
That makes the smile disappear from his face, and now he’s all business. “Tell me.”
It takes thirty seconds to clue him in, and by the time I’ve finished, he’s good and pissed off.
“Why didn’t my boys take care of this piece of shit?”
“That’s my question,” I reply.
Luke paces my office. “I’ll pull up the footage of the playroom last night and find him. And I’ll have a talk with the boys, along with Libby and Beth.”
“I’d also like to look through the footage,” I reply. “Because when we find him, we’ll take him to the cell.”
He nods.
We have a zero-tolerance policy for anyone who puts anyone else in danger, regardless of the hundreds of thousands of dollars they’ve paid to be here.
Ignoring a safe word is not fucking tolerated.
I might be a shit human being, but I take care of what’s mine. These people trust us and pay me a fuck ton of money to keep things safe.
So that’s what they’ll get.
“I’m surprised you weren’t watching in real time,” Luke says as he crosses to the door. “You usually monitor everything from the control room.”
“I was busy.”
Just because I don’t fuck the women who work for me or the members doesn’t mean I don’t fuck at all.
Luke simply nods and walks out of my office, and I head down to the control room.
My cousin is right. I usually spend a good deal of time in here, keeping an eye on the entire club.
I have twelve monitors that show live video feeds of every area.
The playroom is our largest area, so there are three monitors and twelve cameras.
I can see everyone who comes and goes through the main entrances, from both streets.
I also keep an eye on the bar in the main lounge, where members can sit and enjoy a drink before they go into the playroom.
The lounge requires full clothing, no sex, and we have a two-drink max.
I’m short a bartender tonight, but it appears that Max and Rita are keeping up okay for now. Our patrons come in wearing ensembles curated specifically to be noticed—suits, sparkly dresses, lots of jewelry, and expensive watches.
It’s a place to flirt and be seen before walking through the doors to the carnal delights beyond.
I see Mr. and Mrs. Foley are on the hunt for a third tonight. They’re chatting with a man at the bar.
Mrs. Foley likes to fuck men who aren’t her husband. And Mr. Foley likes to watch.
I learned long ago not to judge anyone based on their sexual preferences. There are plenty of kinks that I indulge in, including the occasional threesome. If you want to judge people for their lifestyle, this isn’t the place for you.
My playroom manager, Madam Loveland, is in her office. Before long, she’ll move into the playroom to keep an eye on things there. I wonder where she was last night when Beth was strapped to the spanking bench.
That’s a question to ask her later.
It’s early enough in the evening that most of the privacy rooms are empty, but those will fill up before the night is out.
My phone pings with a text from Luke.
L: There’s a man asking for you at the loading dock.
The loading dock is where I conduct the … less legal side of my business. Just as I’m about to tell Luke I’ll be right there, someone on a monitor catches my attention.
I lean forward and hit the key that brings the reception area up on full screen, then turn on the audio.
“Who are you?” I murmur, watching intently.
Luke texts again, and I type out a quick response.
Me: Take care of it. I’m unavailable.
She looks nervously around as she pushes her long dark hair over one shoulder and pauses before approaching the front desk.
She’s not a member.
She’s not an employee.
My hand balls into a fist on the desktop as a smile spreads over her perfect face, and even though I’ve never seen her before in my life, it’s as though every cell in my body recognizes her.
She’s mine.