Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
Savannah
I am going to be led through Le Luxe with a collar and chain around my neck.
A week ago, I’d have thought this was not only preposterous, but also insulting.
Now, I find myself more aroused by a piece of jewelry than I ever thought possible. Because it isn’t the jewelry, I realize fairly quickly.
It’s what it symbolizes.
I know he doesn’t want to be a couple. I’ve gathered that much.
But it’s actually not that he doesn’t want to.
My gut says that something happened to him.
He’s afraid. He doesn’t want to misstep or push me away.
But I know that if he truly didn’t want me here, he’d have gotten rid of me a long time ago.
And I know that if I wanted to be his, my sister or Fabien’s protests wouldn’t sway me.
I’m a grown woman and fully capable of making my own life choices.
Thayer commands this club. They call him sir and they obey his command. He’s basically the commander in chief of Le Luxe, so I don’t actually believe he doesn’t want to overstep because he fears his brother’s disapproval. That’s out of character for him. Thayer apparently fears no one but himself.
For some reason, he doesn’t trust himself with me, and I want to know why.
Now isn’t the time for questions, though. Now’s the time I pay attention to every damn detail I can because this is where shit gets real.
I’d been blindfolded and whisked through Le Luxe so quickly, I’ve barely gotten to see what it holds. Now, he’s bringing me along as if I’m with him, and that makes all the difference in the world.
“You’re shaking like a newborn kitten,” he says as he fastens the length of chain on my collar.
“You’re collaring me,” I say, unable to hide my excitement. “That’s a leash. This is where shit gets real and I’m so fucking excited.”
He opens his mouth to say something, then thinks better of it. Instead, he leans in and kisses my cheek.
“You’re beautiful,” he says as he turns away, as if he doesn’t expect a response. He says it like it’s a fact, as if he doesn’t tilt my entire world on its axis with every compliment he gives me.
I open my mouth to thank him, when a sharp shake of his head stops me. “No more talking without permission. We’re going into the club, and you know what that means.”
I nod. Risk. Exposure. Danger.
“I’ll conduct these interviews as quickly as possible, then we come back here and have lunch while Cosette does her magic.”
Since I’m not allowed to talk, I only nod again.
I wonder who he’s interviewing. New dungeon masters? Security guards? Private chefs to make the fancy meals? Is this something Fabien would handle if he were here, or is it part of Thayer’s job description?
He opens the door and steps outside with a look of determination on his face, like he’s just entered into battle and he’s putting me on the front line.
I notice right away the club during midday is nothing like the late night or early morning club.
Guests filter in and out, notably different from the harried travel-worn families I’ve seen in most hotels.
First, there are no children present at all, only couples—a man in a bespoke suit with a slight woman next to him, holding his hand.
Two men in casual but tailored clothing, standing so close it looks like one wants to sit in the other’s lap while standing.
Staff mills about wearing crisp uniforms and speaking in low voices, and far beyond the main lobby, someone in a black suit plays a baby grand piano.
Rose petals float in the waterfall and pool in the lobby, and in the brighter light of day, I notice plush velvet couches, full vases of freshly cut pale pink peonies, and behind the glass door, a patio with a fire pit and a fountain.
I realize with a stab of pride that Thayer’s the one in charge here, so he’s the one who’s chosen this upscale, luxury theme for his club. It is, after all, called Le Luxe, and for good reason.
Luxury.
While we don’t move through the lobby unnoticed—I note nearly everyone at least glances our way—no one speaks to him. Whereas all show him deference, and respect as well. If Thayer wanted to introduce me, he would have.
This time, as we walk through the club, I note so much more than I did before. A part of me longs to be a member, to run my hands along the soft, buttery leather of the couches, to sip from one of the tall, fluted glasses of champagne staff offers on trays, to sit on the patio and read my book.
But I know what I really want. I know what I really crave. And when I see a man lean over and kiss the cheek of the woman beside him, his hand on her lower back as if to claim her in front of everyone, there’s an unexpected lump in my throat.
I know I’m in danger. I know I’m not his. But damn, don’t I wish this would all go away, and I could prove to him I might be the woman he wants.
We walk down a long hallway past the rooms we saw before.
Now, however, more people mill about. I wonder if I’ll see the couple I heard in the library earlier.
Down another hall to a set of rooms that look like offices, he leads me to another room with an open door.
“You did well,” he says as he leans over and kisses my cheek.
My chest swells at his praise. What’s going on with me?
My skin flames when he touches me. He kindles me with the slightest effort. What would it feel like if he actually tried?
“Remember,” he says in my ear. “No talking, please. I’ll be as brief as possible.”
I nod. We enter the room, and I feel myself immediately freeze.
This isn’t a conference room.
It appears we’re in the heart of the club that leads to private rooms. To the far right, there’s a bar.
With a quick glance, I note fine liquors and actual liquid aphrodisiacs.
The room is immaculately clean, well-appointed with white and gray and silver accents, carpeted and luxurious, with the same velvety curtains and plush chairs I saw earlier.
But that’s not what gives me pause.
The people who’ve arrived aren’t… chefs, or masseuses, or anything like that. There are four of the sexiest, most well-dressed, attractive women I’ve ever seen. I don’t swing that way and even I would want to hook up with these ladies.
“Ladies,” Thayer says in greeting. “If you’re here for the willing servant jobs, you’ve come to the right place.
Here, we’re in a community room our curated members frequent.
As willing servants, we’d expect you to know your way around these rooms to perfection.
You’ll note a members-only bar with liquors and aphrodisiacs, comfortable furniture, and a small room behind us with bondage furniture and mirrored walls for the exhibitionists among us.
We also have private rooms with dim lights and soundproofed walls, and themed rooms.”
I try to swallow but find it difficult. I want to turn around and leave. Every single damn one of these women can’t hide the way they look at Thayer, and I know exactly what they see.
Magnetic, sapphire blue eyes framed with dark lashes. Thick, dark hair I want to run my fingers through. The stern set of his firm jaw that speaks of dominance and strength. He’s the perfect blend of arresting and sexy, charming and dangerous, what every woman craves and what every woman fears.
I find myself staring at him like they do, and realize my heart is pounding in my chest like a jackhammer.
“We’ll discuss the positions available, and I’d like you to tell me why you want the job. But before you do, I’d like to explain a bit more about the position.”
To my surprise, he pulls out a chair and nods for me to sit down without a word.
It’s part of the act, I tell myself.
He needs them to believe we’re a couple, that he’s my Master and I’m his slave.
I fold myself into the chair and try to squelch my rising anger.
I fucking hate games.
I listen as he talks about the club, the rules, the expectations and pay. I find myself staring, my mouth agape, because I had no idea clubs like this existed and holy shit, they pay that much?
The truth is, though, I have mixed feelings about the fact that he owns Le Luxe. I barely listen to their responses as he interviews them because I find my mind reeling.
I don’t like that he’s talking to them about things like obedience, service, and integrity.
I don’t like the breathy way the blonde flutters her eyelashes at him, or the way the redhead stares at me like I’m a beetle she wants to squash under her stiletto.
I don’t like the way they look at him, and I don’t like the way they look at me, with a strange mix of jealousy and curiosity.
I watch as he smiles at one woman and politely engages in conversation with another.
I watch in horror as he asks each one of them for an audition.
One at a time, they do what I long to do.
I’m shocked at my reaction when they kneel.
They demonstrate subservience and service.
They call him sir.
The redhead kneels in front of him, a look of adoration in her eyes.
She’s too familiar, too comfortable, and I don’t trust her.
When he gives her a rare smile and lays his hand on her head, I want to poke her eyes out.
I look away, because I’m not used to this sudden temptation toward actual violence that floods me.
Soon, the interviews are over. He kept his word and kept things brief. By the time he tells the last woman to go, I’ve made up my mind. I don’t like playing games with him. I don’t enjoy feeling like I’m playacting anymore, and I’m going to tell him exactly that.
When he turns to me, I gather my courage, because it takes all I’ve got to stand up to a man like Thayer.
“Are we finished?” I say in a haughty tone, turning away from him.
“Yes,” he says, staring at his phone. We’re alone in the conference room. “Are you hungry?”
My stomach chooses that precise minute to growl at me. “No,” I lie.
He looks up from his phone to quirk an eyebrow at me. “You haven’t eaten much today.”
“I don’t need much food,” I counter.
With pursed lips, he looks back down. “I’m ordering lunch. You need to eat.”