Chapter 9
ASPEN
Whatever I was expecting, this wasn’t it. A kink club. Part of me thinks Chef Stevens was just messing with me, and this new restaurant is going to be strikingly similar to Dulip. If anything, this place is lacking the high-end vibe.
He ushers me into the lobby, a standard security guard waiting with a smile for my companion.
“Hey, Ryder. Here is the NDA you requested.” The guard then turns his attention to me. “Miss, I need your driver’s license.”
I look to Chef Stevens, and he gives a curt nod before gesturing to a table and chairs on the other side of the lobby.
“Take your time to read it over. It’s virtually identical to the one you signed with me, but it’s club protocol.”
As I take a seat and pull a pen from my purse, I can’t help but ask—observe.
“The guard called you Ryder. You know each other well.”
“Read the contract.” He leaves no room for further conversation on the fact that he’s clearly a member of this kink club.
My mind is racing as I read over the agreement, sign and date it. I hate to admit it, but I’m turned on at the thought of what goes on here. I have no idea, but just the knowledge that people are here having sex and doing all kinds of kinky things—I feel naughty.
“Let’s go.” I hand the NDA to the security guard, who returns my license and hands me a visitor’s pass.
“I need a badge for a kink club?” I say with a nervous chuckle as the elevator doors close.
“Why is that funny?” His tone is flat. Harsh. Nothing like the dynamic chef I’m used to seeing at Dulip.
“It’s not. I guess I just assumed anyone could walk in.”
“It is not a standard dance club or cocktail bar in the city. The NDA isn’t a joke.”
“I didn’t—” He cuts me off.
“Venom is the most elite club in the country. It is members only. Invitation only. Domination and submission aren’t to be taken lightly. Everything that happens here is about mutual consent.”
“You sound like you know a lot about it.”
“Stop fishing with questions you don’t want the answers to. We are here to look at the rooftop, and that is exactly what we’re doing. If you can’t take that seriously, we’re done here.”
My stomach lurches as the elevator heaves upward, opening on the next level. “I wasn’t making fun. I’m just… nervous.”
The furrow of his brow slowly dissipates as I wring my hands, unsure what to do in this enclosed space. Suddenly, his presence is choking the air from my lungs. He’s so beautiful, but there’s a sadness behind his ice-blue gaze.
“There’s nothing to be nervous about. We will walk around, I’ll explain my vision, and we’ll leave. No kink involved.” A pang of disappointment strikes in the pit of my stomach, but I shove it aside. I can unpack whatever fucked-up idea I’m having later.
When the doors ping open on the rooftop, there’s an insanely handsome man waiting to greet us. Holy mother of God. Being in the presence of two of the best-looking men I’ve ever seen is—hot. Really hot.
Be professional.
This guy is probably a member here, which means he does all kinds of dark, wicked things to women. Or men. Or both.
He and Ryder embrace, clapping each other on the back. “Hey, bro. How’s it hanging?”
“I’m good, man. Who is this beautiful creature? Aren’t you going to introduce us?”
“Flex, this is Aspen Struthers. Aspen, meet Felix Navarro. He’s one of the owners here at Venom.”
I extend my hand in greeting. “Hello, Mr. Navarro. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
He and Ryder exchange glances. “I like her already.”
“Don’t start, Flex. We’re doing a simple walk around. No flirting. No innuendo. Just business.”
“How do you work with this guy? He’s all work and no play tonight.”
“I’m very honored to work with Chef Stevens. He’s one of the greatest talents of our generation.”
“So, I’ve heard. But, just between you and me…” he says, leaning in all conspiratorial, “… he’s way more fun when he decides to play.” He winks at me, and I go weak at the knees.
“Flex,” Chef Stevens interjects in warning.
“Fine. Let’s do a tour.”
“Of the entire club?” I ask, my pulse racing.
“If you’d like. You signed the NDA before Ry brought you up here, didn’t you?”
“Yes, sir, I did.”
He puts his hands together as if in prayer, mischief dancing in his emerald-green eyes. “Ry, I see your dilemma.”
Chef Stevens ignores his friend, guiding me over to a table with architectural drawings sprawled out, his hand grazing my lower back, sending a thrill coursing through me. I already love it here. The glass walls and roof make for a beautiful space with the backdrop of Manhattan.
“I know it doesn’t look like much now, but this is what I have planned.” He runs his hand over the plans in a tender caress. “There will be a grand piano over in that corner. A canopy of twinkle lights across the dining area.”
“That will be stunning.”
He turns to me, his eyes on mine, as if he could see right through me. “Yes. Stunning.”
“You two need to get a room,” Mr. Navarro quips. “Oh wait, you already have one, Ry.”
My cheeks flush, my entire body on fire. I step away, walking around the space as Chef Stevens berates his friend for all but confirming my suspicion. Ryder Stevens is a member of this club. This isn’t just a business venture for him.
The view from up here is breathtaking. I look out over the city, excitement taking root at the prospect of being a chef for such a beautiful location. I could stand here all night, basking in the moonlit vista of Manhattan.
There’s a chill in the air this high up, and as I wonder how I ended up here, Chef Stevens shirks off his jacket and wraps it around my shoulders.
“What are you thinking?” His voice is low, raspy, and so serious.
“That it’s a beautiful backdrop for a restaurant, and I would love to work here.” My eyes find his. “If you still want me.”
“Really?”
“Truly. So, am I going to get a tour of the rest of the club?” I see a wry smile on Flex’s face, but Chef Stevens is quick to shut me down.
“Baby steps. I don’t think you’re prepared for what’s on the other levels of this building.”
“Will I ever get to see it?”
“If you’re still interested when construction is finished, I’ll think about it.”
“But…”
“One thing at a time. Flex is all the kink you’re going to see tonight.”
“Is he a Dominant or a submissive?”
“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” Flex grunts from across the room.
“Dominant. And when did you learn the terms?”
“Oh. Fifty Shades, like the rest of America. Is it offensive to call a man a submissive?”
“Not at all. There are many male subs and female Dommes. The only rules here are that everyone engages in safe, consensual sex, relationships, and appropriate training.”
“Training?”
“Yes, but that’s a conversation for… never. I didn’t bring you here to corrupt you.”
“Is that what you think this place is? Corruption?”
“For someone who has no interest in the lifestyle… yes. You’re a nice girl.”
“Wow. Dismissive much? For a start, I’m a woman. And ‘nice’ is as insulting as if you called me fat.” I’m not the harmless woman he believes me to be.
“What?” His eyebrows shoot up, his eyes wide. “I was not trying to insult you. I just mean…”
“What? That I’m boring. Too vanilla for somewhere like this. For all you know, I’m a Domme. Maybe I attend a different club. Maybe I have a harem of male and female submissives.”
His demeanor softens, a smile creeping across his chiseled features.
“And do you do any of those things?”
“Well, no, but I could. I guess regular sex isn’t your thing, but I happen to enjoy it. A lot.” I realize, regardless of where we are, I’m being so unprofessional right now it’s embarrassing. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t be talking about this. It’s inappropriate.”
“Then, if you want the job, it’s yours, and we leave the talk of you, me, and the club behind.” Him. Me. And the club. That’s a fantasy I’ll be using in the future.
He holds his hand out to me. “Deal?”
I shake on it. “Deal.” A jolt of electricity courses through me where our skin meets, and it’s all I can do not to gasp.
“Welcome to Venom, Aspen. I look forward to working with you.”
“Thank you. I’m excited to show you your faith in me isn’t misplaced, sir.”
“There’s one other stipulation if we’re going to work together.”
“Anything.”
“Call me Ryder. Enough with the ‘sir.’ It means something very different within the walls of this club.”
“Oh.” My heart is hammering in my chest so hard I fear it’s going to burst through my ribcage.
Flex meanders over to us, his hands tucked in his pockets, looking mouthwateringly handsome. “Yeah, when a woman calls him ‘Sir,’ she’s getting lucky. He goes feral for that shit.”
Ryder gives him a death stare, so I attempt to steer the conversation away from anything I call Chef—Ryder.
“And what do women call you?”
“Master. Not women. I’m a one-woman man these days. I’m sure you’ll meet my wife sometime soon. She’s a sucker for Ry’s cooking.”
“So, people who want to be Doms and subs still get married?” I have a million questions, and I just agreed not to ask Ryder any of them.
“Some do, some don’t. Just like any other relationship. I didn’t think I was the marrying kind until I fell for Helena.”
“I guess it just sort of finds you out of the blue.”
“You sound like you have experience.” I feel Ryder’s eyes on me at his friend’s words.
“Nope. I’m one of the last singles in my friend group. I’ve listened to so many love-at-first-sight moments it’s sickening.”
“So, you’re single.” Flex looks to his friend with a sly grin.
“Don’t start, Flex. We don’t all fuck every single woman we meet,” Ryder bites out.
“I don’t. Anymore. I’m a reformed manwhore.”
“We work together.” I offer up to diffuse the daggers Ryder is staring at Flex right now. “I’m just a waitress. Aspiring chef. Chef Stevens is going to train me as his sous chef here. I am so grateful. And I never knew kink clubs were real. I signed the NDA.”
They’re both silent, staring at me like I just grew a second head, and I realize I’m rambling.
“Sorry. I talk when I get nervous.”