Chapter 11
ELEVEN
CRESSIDA
Walking into an office building like this isn’t as easy as getting into an event.
You need an invite, one I clearly don’t have.
So, here I am, stuck at the security checkpoint, with the guards giving me that “you don’t belong here” look, unable to go through.
I don’t expect him to pick up when I call, but he does.
A few words later, the gates buzz, and just like that, I am allowed in.
I’m escorted up in the elevator to the highest floor. When the doors part, I see a woman sitting at a desk in the lobby. She looks up from her computer and offers me a tight smile as she stands. She greets me, and tells me her name before leading me to his door and holding it open for me to enter.
I’m used to dealing with people who have money.
Noah’s family has a lot of it, so it doesn’t intimidate me in the slightest. I make a decent wage doing what I do—enough to afford my own place to live and take care of my son.
But Soren is on a completely different level.
He looks like money—old money. He basically stinks of it.
And from all my research, I know he comes from a powerful and wealthy family that somehow lost it all.
His gaze drags up and down my body, as if he’s assessing what I’m wearing today. I let him because I couldn’t care less what he thinks of my purple blouse and my tight black pants. That’s a lie. A part of me hopes he at least thinks I look good.
“What a surprise,” he says as he stands and rounds his desk. “Close the door on your way out, Layla, and cancel any meetings until I’m done with my guest.” When he’s finished with her instructions, he turns his attention back to me. “Take a seat, Miss Knight.”
“I have a first name,” I say, clutching my bag as I sit on one of the two dark-gray couches positioned off to the side of his desk.
Soren moves over to a sideboard, where crystal decanters and matching rocks glasses gleam under the light. He drops a few chunks of ice into one of the glasses, the sound sharp in the quiet room, then glances over his shoulder at me.
“Drink?”
“Sure.” I don’t intend to go back to work later. I’m planning on going home, putting my feet up, and watching so much television that I fall asleep with it on. Sounds like a perfect night to me, along with some pizza and dessert, of course.
I watch him pour each drink before he turns and walks over to the sitting area, where he stops directly in front of me and hands me my drink. I take it and thank him, then he proceeds to sit down next to me. Right next to me.
“You have another couch,” I grumble, giving him an annoyed look.
He takes a drink, then replies, “I do. You’re very observant.”
I bite my tongue to stop myself from snapping back at his smart-ass comment and take a sip of my own drink. We sit there in silence as we stare at each other.
I’m here to get my interview, but I have a feeling he’s stringing me along, and he won’t really give me what I’m after. Well, that doesn’t work for me, because one way or another, I always get what I want.
“Can I take notes?” I ask.
“No!” He says it with finality.
“That’s not how interviews go, Soren.”
“I know how interviews go, Miss Knight. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be where I am today. Now, would I?” He pauses with a thoughtful expression. “Actually, that reminds me. There’s something else I need from you.”
“What? Why?”
“I told you there would be stipulations in exchange for my time.”
“How many things do you need from me before you give me what I want?” I ask with exasperation.
He takes another sip and then lowers his glass down.
A Rolex glints on his wrist, and his strong fingers clutch the glass resting on his knee.
I can’t help but admire how good his hands look—tanned and veiny.
Noah has computer hands. Soren should have the same, given his job, but he has the hands of a man who knows what to do with them.
Makes me hate him even more.
“This one, I’m sure you’ll like,” he says, as if he knows me.
“And how can you be so sure of that?”
“Because it’s fun, and that’s clearly something you’re lacking.” He stands and goes to refill his glass. “So, are you ready? I’ll send for my car.”
I glance at my watch. “It’s not even dinner time yet. What could you possibly have planned?”
“We’ll be early, but rest assured, you’ll enjoy it.” I know this man is dangerous. He’s dark, full of deadly secrets, and someone I absolutely don’t trust. But I need this story. And something in Soren’s hidden shadows calls to me.
So, despite every warning in my gut, I nod and agree to go with him.
He moves over to his desk, picks up his cell phone and slides it into his pocket, then goes to the door. Opening it, he asks, “Are you ready?”
“Sure.” I stand and then walk out the door.
He doesn’t pay his assistant any attention whatsoever as he follows me to the elevator. Soren presses the button, and we stand there in complete silence, waiting for the elevator to arrive.
I can smell the whiskey in the air between us. It’s making me think of things to do with his mouth that I shouldn’t be thinking about. Ever since he mentioned kissing me, I keep wondering what he tastes like.
We step into the elevator, and the silence persists throughout the ride down until we reach his car. When he opens the car door for me, I finally ask, “Where are we going?”
“What would be the fun in telling you? I’d much rather it be a surprise,” he says.
I climb into the car, and he gets in after me.
Turning to face him, I question, “Am I dressed appropriately for this event?”
“It’s not an event.” He smirks, burning me with his stare. I get that he’s trying to intimidate me, but I’m not easily intimidated.
“Do you ever plan to marry?” I ask.
“Did you enjoy being married?”
“I did. I had a good marriage.”
“So, why did you end it?” he asks.
“Because we realized we no longer loved each other, and that we’re better as friends.”
“Let me guess. You told him that first, and he agreed.” I nod in answer. “Figured as much.”
“Why?”
“Because that man clearly still loves you.” He says it like he somehow knows Noah.
“He’s engaged. Or have you forgotten?”
“That’s because he can no longer have what he wants.” He smirks again as the car slows to a stop.
Soren gets out of the car and holds a hand out to help me.
“Leave your bag. You won’t need it.” I follow his instructions, and slide out.
When I look up, I notice a red door. Soren leads me to it, opens it, and then motions me to enter before him.
A lady is standing at a desk, and her eyes go wide, her lips curving in a flirtatious smile as she looks at him.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Nixon. Jake told me he’d be expecting you.
” She motions for us to follow her down a short hallway to a door at the end.
When she pushes the door open, I see it’s dimly lit inside, almost like a club.
At first, I’m confused. I hear soft music mixed with other sounds I can’t immediately identify.
But as my eyes adjust, I see beds. And on those beds are people.
And all I can do is stare.
My gaze lands on a couple who are engaged in the sixty-nine position, the woman on top with her legs spread over the man’s face as he eats her. Her head bobs up and down as she sucks his cock. My cheeks flush, and I can’t help but feel a mixture of embarrassment and awe at the same time.
I jump when Soren takes my hand and then leans in to whisper, “Don’t want you to get lost down here, now do we, Hurricane?” He tips a grin and then pulls me farther inside.
“What is this place?” I ask as he leads me to a bar where a man is sitting with a stack of paperwork in front of him.
“Jake, care to tell Miss Knight what this place is?” Soren says.
The man, Jake, looks up from his paperwork. And I immediately think he doesn’t look like someone who would work in a place like this. He’s handsome, dressed much like Soren, though he appears to be more relaxed and laid-back than the man at my side.
“You’ve never been to a club like this?” Jake asks me.
“Can’t say I have,” I reply.
“If you look around, do you notice something all the people here have in common?” Jake waves a hand at the room, and my gaze slowly scans the space.
There are beds everywhere. Some are out in the open, some in rooms with glass windows, and others are in private rooms with no view available once the doors are closed.
And the clubgoers are all naked except for one thing—a colored wristband.
“What do the bands mean?” I ask, turning back to Jake.
“To enter, you have to have a band,” Jake explains.
Neither Soren nor I are wearing a band. Noticing my confused expression, Jake says, “Soren likes to waltz in and break the rules. But don’t worry, this establishment isn’t really his thing. No fighting happening here, right, Soren?” Jake smiles at him before he looks back at me.
“My establishments focus on pleasure with consent. I just opened this location. My other club is bigger and better known, but I wanted something more intimate for this place.”
“Each wristband color has a meaning. Yellow means you’re interested in playing but might not be ready yet. Green means you’re up for anything. And red indicates that you’re off-limits.”
“I wasn’t aware these places existed,” I whisper.
Soren squeezes my hand and then turns back to Jake, asking, “What do you need help with?”
Jake glances at his paperwork and then shoves it toward Soren. Releasing my hand, Soren picks up the stack of papers, skims the top sheet, then says, “I’ll be in contact.” He nods to Jake, retakes my hand, and turns to lead me away.
“Pleasure meeting you,” I call over my shoulder to Jake.
“Come back anytime.”
I smile and take one last look around.
“You will not come back anytime,” Soren says with a hint of annoyance and… possessiveness?
“Sure, Dad, whatever you say.” I roll my eyes as he pulls me out of the club.