Chapter Ten
Tatiana
T he Irish Star, Jarek’s exclusive BDSM club, Nashua Street, on the banks of the Charles River, Boston...
The sleek elevator doors opened to the underground level of The Irish Star. Tatiana stepped into an entrance hall that took her breath away. Gleaming black marble floors reflected the warm glow from crystal chandeliers. Gold-leafed crown molding traced the high ceiling, while deep crimson silk panels adorned the walls between black-lacquered doors.
“Another piece of information you omitted to tell me,” she said, listening to her voice echoing in the opulent space. “Owning a sex club.”
Jarek cast a disapproving look at her. “An exclusive BDSM club, my dear. There’s a difference.” He placed his hand on the small of her back and guided her further into the hall. “You know as well as I do that sex isn’t a prerequisite for joining a club such as this. Here, power exchange is an art form. We maintain strict protocols about consent and safety. What it most definitely is not is an orgy palace.”
His words sparked memories of their time together—how he had always maintained control, how he had orchestrated every aspect of their relationship from their first meeting. The realization hit her with renewed force.
“No need to be defensive. It’s a statement of fact that I actually know little to nothing about you.” Her mouth twisted into a bitter smile. “That in itself was a massive red flag I shouldn’t have ignored.”
Self-castigation raged through her as she remembered the warning signs she had dolefully ignored.
“We always do things differently in retrospect.”
Something in his tone made her look at him. The hardness in his expression had softened, replaced by a distant look she had never seen before. His eyes darkened with what appeared to be regret, though not directed at her. The moment was fleeting but unmistakable, and she couldn’t help but wonder if he regretted using her the way he did.
“I know what I would’ve done differently, but somehow, I don’t think you would have. Your hatred for my grandfather goes beyond rhyme or reason.” When fury flashed in his eyes, she held up her hand. “Simmer down, Jarek. I’m not diminishing the tragedy of what happened to your family, but it’s been twenty years. You could’ve taken action much sooner. So, the question remains. Why? Why wait twenty years before taking your revenge?”
His face turned to stone. “Revenge has no time limits, my dear wife. Neither does the pain or the memory of watching my family bleed out on a tarred pavement. To the contrary, it’s a vision that has never become blurred over time.” His words hung in the air between them, heavy with decades of carefully nurtured hatred.
The magnificence of the club’s entrance hall paled in comparison to Tatiana’s simmering frustration. She smoothed down the red leather and lace corset dress, a garment that had arrived that afternoon with a note from Jarek, stating he knew she was busy and might not have time to go shopping. That it fit perfectly was annoying, but she couldn’t fault his taste.
The structured bodice hugged her curves while lace panels extended from her ribs to her thighs, with the hemline falling to mid-thigh. Paired with black stilettos, the outfit made her feel both powerful and vulnerable. It was a contradiction she was starting to associate with everything involving Jarek.
“You’re skirting my question, which I assume means you’re not going to tell me.” Her fingers curled into fists, causing her to wince as the diamond of her wedding ring cut into her palm. Each evasion only deepened her need to understand his motives.
“Then tell me this. You have more than enough power to completely debilitate Gregor Polov, even have him killed, and no one in your underground world would raise an eyebrow. Instead, you’re deliberately prolonging his torture by marrying me. Why? And don’t give me that crap about his heart breaking knowing his prized granddaughter is fucking his worst enemy.”
“Master Hades, it’s good to see you. We missed you these past three months.” The sub at reception interrupted their exchange, which Tatiana resented since it offered Jarek a respite. The woman’s voice carried the practiced smoothness of someone well-versed in the lifestyle. She stopped in front of them and trailed her fingers along Jarek’s arm in a familiar gesture that made Tatiana’s blood simmer.
The reaction surprised her. She shouldn’t care who touched him. Yet a primitive burst of possessiveness inside her bristled at the casualness of it. He was her husband now, whether she wanted him or not, and that made him hers as much as he claimed she was his.
“As I’m sure you've been told by Master Chronos, I got married recently. Prior to that, I limited my play time with my then fiancé, who resided in Atlanta. Therefore, I had no need to come here.” Jarek’s voice carried the authority that seemed as natural to him as breathing.
“Well, we’re delighted to have you back.” The tall brunette turned to Tatiana with a friendly smile. “Welcome to The Irish Star, Mrs. Farrel. May I say, you look absolutely stunning in red.”
“Thank you.” Tatiana returned her smile as she turned to greet new arrivals. Her mind was racing. Jarek’s response had thrown her. She had seen him command rooms with his presence and watched how naturally he wielded power over others. As Jarek had said, the BDSM lifestyle wasn’t about sex. It was about power exchange, something he, as Master Hades, excelled at. The idea that he had restricted himself to only her for months, even when they were apart, seemed impossible. Yet, his words rang with sincerity.
“No need to look so surprised, love. I did tell you I threw my little black book away.”
She glowered at him, irritated by his perceptiveness. “I’m not your love,” she snapped, the word feeling like ash in her mouth since it regularly rolled off his tongue with unpracticed ease. “The sub might believe you, but I don’t. Remember, I’ve seen you in action at the club. You’re a very powerful and demanding Dominant, and if you think for one second, I’m gullible enough to believe that you haven’t played without me since we started dating, you’re delusional.”
“It’s your prerogative to disbelieve me, dear wife, but it doesn’t change the facts.” His hand clasped her neck in a gesture of dominant possessiveness. His thumb stroked the sensitive spot behind her ear, sending unwanted shivers down her spine. “Come, let me show you around.”
The warmth of his hand seemed to brand her skin in a constant reminder of the power he held over her. Power she had given him, first willingly as his submissive and now unwillingly as his wife.
The revolving door opened up to a scene that defied Tatiana’s expectations. Instead of the typical medieval dungeon atmosphere common to BDSM clubs, she stepped into an ultra-modern space that could rival any upscale nightclub. Polished chrome and brushed steel surfaces reflected the strategic lighting, creating an ambiance both sophisticated and edgy.
A massive, curved bar dominated the far wall, its sleek design complementing the architectural marvel above it—a double stairway that spiraled up to the mezzanine level. The contrast between the social atmosphere below and the raw intensity emanating from the dungeon area above created an electric tension in the air.
Jarek’s hand remained at the small of her back as he guided her through the space.
“I purchased the building seven years ago,” he said, his voice carrying over the live band’s sultry blues number. “The restaurant upstairs does well, as does the coffee shop. The office space on the five floors above generates steady income, but this,”—he gestured around them—“this was always the goal.”
Plush seating areas dotted the floor, creating intimate spaces for conversation. Neon-lit tables cast subtle glows across the faces of guests while the dance floor pulsed with its own energy. The screams and commands from above filtered down, creating an unusual symphony with the music below.
“Master Hades, you lucky bastard!” A booming voice cut through the ambient noise. “So, you finally decided to join the ball and chain club, did you?”
Tatiana turned to find herself facing the largest man she had ever seen. Despite his intimidating size, his wide grin softened his features, giving him a roguish charm that matched his bad-boy aesthetic.
“Master Chronos,” Jarek acknowledged, matching his grin. “Venus, meet my partner in this venture. Chronos, my wife, Tatiana.”
“Ah, the famous Tatiana. Finally, I get to meet you.” Chronos took her hand but surprised her by gently kissing her palm. “This one has been keeping you all to himself in Atlanta. About time he brought you here.” He turned and beckoned to someone behind him. “Storm, come meet Master Hades’ better half.”
A redhead woman with striking features and an infectious smile approached. “Welcome to The Irish Star,” she said as she embraced Tatiana with unexpected warmth. “I’m Storm or Sarah when we’re being vanilla. This brute’s wife and partner in crime.”
“Let’s get something to drink,” Jarek said as he led them to the bar. “What’s your poison tonight, Venus?”
“Surprise me,” Tatiana replied, finding herself relaxing despite her earlier tension. She watched as Storm pulled her aside, already launching into a telling of Chronos and Jarek’s first meeting. It was enlightening to listen to someone singing his praises. Clearly, they were also caught by the same version of Jarek Farrel she originally met and fell in love with.
“Those two,” Storm nodded toward their husbands, who were now deep in conversation, “are quite the pair. I have a feeling you and I will be, too.”
The easy camaraderie sparking to life between her and Sarah surprised Tatiana. In this strange new world she had been thrust into, perhaps she might find a friend and, who knows, maybe even an unexpected ally.