Chapter 27
S he shatters in my arms.
Right there on my lap—shaking, panting, her mouth parted in a silent cry. Her entire body trembles as the orgasm collides through her, and I hold her through every second of it.
Every pulse.
Every twitch.
Every greedy little grind of her hips as she rides it out on my thigh like a good girl in heat.
It’s beautiful.
And dangerous.
And mine .
But just as her breathing starts to slow, just as her lashes flutter and her eyes begin to lift to mine?—
Blue lights flood the room.
Security breach.
My head snaps up, and immediately I know—it’s not a false alarm. It never is.
A half-dozen of my security personnel pour in through the far side of the Devil’s Playground, guns at the ready, eyes scanning.
Sienna stiffens in my lap, startled, her head whipping toward the sudden movement. I don’t let her go. My arm locks around her waist, holding her tight as I rise smoothly to my feet, taking her with me.
Her bare thighs slide down the leather of my pants until her feet hit the floor.
She wobbles. I steady her, ripping the grinder from my leg and dropping it to my seat.
"Jacket." The order snaps from my mouth before I even register saying it.
One of my guards peels off his coat without hesitation—a heavy black tactical jacket with SECURITY printed across the back in bold white block letters. I take it and wrap it around her shoulders.
It drowns her.
Swallows her whole.
And it smells like him .
That part makes my jaw clench.
But I don’t have time to fix it. I don’t have time to fix anything.
“Get her out of here,” I say, voice flat and deadly.
“Wait—” she starts, turning to me, eyes wide.
I don’t wait.
“Take her home. My home. Don’t let her leave.”
Her lips part in protest. She steps forward.
But I’m already turning my back.
Already gone.
The moment the order is given, she’s lifted—hauled effortlessly over one of the guard’s shoulders like a defiant, furious little siren. Her legs kick, her fists beat against his back, but he doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t even slow.
And I don’t look back.
I disappear into the shadows of the Devil’s Playground.
Because whatever this is—this breach, this threat, this flicker of chaos at the edges of my empire?—
It needs to be handled.
And she has no idea what she’s just started.
But she will.
Soon.
Very, very soon.
The moment the elevator doors shut behind me, I tear off the Devil’s mask.
My skin still hums with the feel of her. The slick heat of her soaked panties pressed against my thigh. Her scent clings to me—sweet, sinful, maddening. I’m still throbbing, my jaw clenched tight as the adrenaline simmers beneath the surface.
One of my floor managers is already waiting, arm extended with a clean black button-down and a quiet, watchful expression. He doesn’t meet my eye. Smart.
Because I’m in no fucking mood.
I snatch the shirt from him in silence, handing over the mask without a word.
The shift from predator to polished is a familiar one.
Muscle memory takes over as I pull the shirt on and start buttoning—fast, efficient. No tie. I leave the top two undone and roll the sleeves up my forearms.
My fingers are still twitching with residual tension. The only thing I need now is?—
“Gun,” I say simply.
The manager places the Glock in my open palm without hesitation. I slide it into the back of my slacks, letting the cool metal ground me as I inhale through my nose and center myself.
“Talk,” I order, my voice low.
“Surprise inspection,” he says quickly. “Fire Marshal. City Health. Maybe twenty inspectors total. They’re downstairs now. Flashing badges, asking for paperwork, threatening to shut us down.”
Perfect.
My nostrils flare, but I say nothing else as the elevator dings and the doors slide open.
The main floor is chaos wrapped in forced calm. Lights turned up. Music silenced. Security stationed at all exits. Guests being turned away at the door. A full sweep in motion.
And right at the center of it all stands one of the city commissioners. A man I’ve done business with. A man who’s taken his pick of Ledger contracts over the years and enjoyed every luxury I’ve afforded him.
Tonight, he’s not smiling.
He steps forward slowly, extending a familiar object in his hand—a bottle of whiskey.
Not just any bottle.
My bottle.
The seal is broken. A rag shoved down the neck and into the amber liquid like a makeshift Molotov.
A threat.
A warning.
A declaration of war.
I take it from him, rotating the bottle in my hand as I examine it.
The weight of it is familiar. The message even more so.
This is Lorenzo’s way of making sure I know: he’s ready to burn everything down. Even The Masquerade.
“Looks like you’ve got some problems, Vale,” the commissioner says, too calm.
I don’t blink. Don’t even let my smile falter.
“I’ll handle it.”
With deliberate ease, I walk past him to the bar. Then—without ceremony—I throw the bottle into the nearby steel trash can.
Glass shatters. The rag flutters like a white flag scorched in gasoline.
The commissioner flinches.
“Getting a little jumpy, aren’t we?” I murmur.
He goes stiff, jaw tightening. Then his hand dips toward the inside of his jacket.
My gun is drawn in a blink.
The barrel is pressed to his forehead before he even realizes I’ve moved.
Everyone freezes.
He lifts his hands immediately, palms open. “Lucian?—”
“You so much as twitch wrong,” I growl, “and I’ll paint this fucking floor with your brains.”
Slowly, his hand retreats, emerging with nothing more than an envelope. Pale yellow. Crumpled edges.
A summons.
“To deliver it personally,” he says, trying for composure.
I snatch the paper from him, then lower the gun—but not all the way.
A court order.
A formal investigation into the legality of The Masquerade’s operations.
Accusations of violating public decency codes.
Obscenity laws.
Operating an unlicensed adult entertainment venue in direct conflict with zoning ordinances.
A hearing date—soon.
They’re not coming for The Ledger.
Not yet.
They’re trying to drag me into the light.
Force my hand.
Pull me out of the shadows where I rule.
Big mistake.
I tuck the Glock back into my waistband, then glance over my shoulder at him.
“You forget which side of neutral you’re standing on, and I’ll be quick to remind you.”
He doesn’t reply. He can’t.
Because the room’s already moved on.
Because I already have.
I’ve got a war to fight.
A city to defend.
And one stubborn, seductive little rabbit waiting at my home?—
A home she has no idea she’s about to be caged in.