2. Peyton
PEYTON
Three weeks later, we were still texting, still teasing. I’d grown more confident in chatting with him, and things were definitely heating up.
We’d sexted a couple of times, and even though I’d managed to find release using my own hands and toys while we talked, it wasn’t the same as having him in the room with me, having him take me to those heights he claimed were possible.
It had reached the point I had to lock my phone away in the desk until lunchtime or I spent hours hot and bothered at my desk as I reread our interactions.
But I had to show Elena our newest text thread when we met up at lunch. I hooked my arm around hers and guided her away from her usual table in the center of the room. “I need to ask your advice.”
Her eyebrows went up at that, and she sank into the chair. “Ask away.”
This was one of the many reasons I was so grateful for her friendship. Elena never made me feel weird or awkward. I held out my phone and took a deep breath.
“Things are heating up. He’s clearly adventurous, and he even asked last week if I was interested in being with more than one man.”
Elena’s eyes scanned the phone screen. She scrolled up, then down, taking in the conversation in a matter of seconds. “And it seems you have agreed, joining them in this group chat.” A wisp of a smile appeared. “Good for you.”
Years of feeling fetishized for my size melted away thanks to these conversations and Elena’s quick acceptance.
“I want to keep trying new things. With them.” I pointed out a message sent last night.
“They asked if I want to meet. In person.” My skin prickled with a heat so deep in my core, my bones threatened to melt.
It had been like that every time I chatted with them.
The things they’ve said they want to do to me—with me—have kept me hot and bothered for days.
“What are your fears?” Elena nudged the phone toward me. “Are you worried they are revolting?”
“If I do this, I’m agreeing to meet three strange men.” My heart thumped hard. “Or one very deranged man.” I’d scrolled through our messages for hours last night without responding to his question. What if they were all psychos?
What if they took one look at me and said no way in hell they were touching me? My throat constricted. I didn’t know if I could handle that kind of rejection again.
“Or you are meeting three very virile, sexual men who can make all of your dreams come true?” Elena nudged my elbow with hers. “Take as many precautions as you need, but if it were me, I’d already be there.”
Precautions. Right.
Meet in a public place.
Have a backup plan for escape. Make sure someone knows where I am and what time I should be home. It really sucked that women had to go through all this for a date.
Yes, what I was doing was a little more out there than meeting for coffee, but how many of those innocent coffee dates ended in abduction, murder, or worse?
Too many for me to blow off all my fears without some serious consideration.
I explained all this to Elena, using her as my verbal processor. I’d always worked better that way in some situations, and this was one of them. She listened, then gave me several options to help make sure I remained as safe as possible.
“You will have until sunup tomorrow to text or call me. If you say you’re craving tangerines, I know you are in need of help.
Hide an AirTag in your clothing or inside your shoe.
Share your location with me.” Her shoulders moved in that delicate shrug of hers.
“But I fully believe your fears, while valid, will not come to pass. This is your chance, Peyton.”
Fears mollified, I sent a quick message into the thread.
I’d love to meet. When and where?
Their response would tell me a lot. I hoped. My foot jiggled up and down, and I almost resorted to biting my nails, a habit I’d given up years ago.
Elena sipped her water and watched my screen alongside me.
Despite it being the middle of the work day and our constant banter about talking when we should be working, a little breath of relief puffed out.
Tonight. You know the night club in town? Duplicity?
“Excellent choice.” Elena gave an approving nod. “Excellent location. Excellent security.”
“You’ve been there?” I set my phone on the table, my heart bursting in my chest. “I’ve heard it’s sexy.”
“Beyond belief. Wear your shortest dress. Heels. Leave your hair down.” She tapped a finger against her lips. “Do you have anything red?”
When I shook my head, she let out a sigh. “But I do have a little black dress. I bought it for myself last year. It’s borderline scandalous. Barely covers my ass.” I whispered the last part.
Her smile bloomed wide. “Perfect. Wear that. No underclothes.”
I squeaked a protest. “I have to wear something.”
“No, you absolutely do not.” She sat forward.
“Were you not just telling me you wished to be braver? Show them. Show them you are not afraid. Even if you are scared spitless, you do not back down. Lift your chin, push your shoulders out, and make them fall to their knees. You are the most powerful woman in the room. Never let anyone tell you otherwise.”
Her words left me breathless and anxious for the meeting before I lost my nerve. I managed to type out that I’d see them tonight without my hands shaking.
Elena nodded her approval. “Good. Call me if you need me.” She stood, signaling an end to our lunch break.
The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur, the hours melting together as I alternated between watching the clock and keeping an eye on Viktor’s door while discreetly researching Duplicity.
Apparently, Viktor’s company had recently invested in the club, and they’d made several changes, including increasing security and upgrading the quality of the entire building.
People loved the new look and feel, and the drinks were supposed to be beyond compare.
I worked, scrolled, and planned and finally, Leonid stuck his head out of the office door.
He smiled lightly when he saw me. “You can clock out. We’ll be here a bit longer tonight. If anything comes up for you, we’ll leave it on your desk for tomorrow.”
Most nights, I’d reassure him that I didn’t mind sticking around. Tonight, I smiled and grabbed my purse. “Have a good night, Mr. Petrov.”
“You too, Miss Stirling.” He always said my name with a kind of lilt to it, a caress that gave me wicked thoughts about him in bed.
I ignored all of that and headed to the elevator.
Tonight, my fantasies might finally come true.
Some of them, anyway.
I rushed home and jumped into the shower.
If things went even half as well as I hoped, I wanted every inch of my body scrubbed clean.
So I could come home completely filthy. Ruined. I’d always loved that word in correlation to sex.
The negative connotation that came with it from historical times tickled me. I wanted to be ruined in all the right ways.
Two hours later, I’d showered and dressed and taken way too much time trying to get the perfect sultry look going with my makeup without going overboard. It would probably be dark in the club, anyway.
Finally, after checking my dress a dozen times and putting on a pair of underwear despite Elena’s orders, I drove to the club.
A valet took my keys. “Have a wonderful night, Miss.” He handed me a ticket for my car and drove away.
I used putting the ticket in my clutch as an excuse to linger outside a few more seconds. This was not the kind of club with neon signs of dancing women out front.
From the outside, it resembled a hotel more than a club. Brick walls had been painted white, and the few windows along the front had the same blacked-out look of Viktor’s office. No amount of light or peeking would give anyone outside a view inside.
A man stood beside the door. He wore a crisp black suit and an earpiece tucked into his left ear.
He watched me, but it had a politeness to it, and he dipped his head when I took a deep breath and stepped forward. “First time at Duplicity?”
“That obvious?” My voice came out squeaky.
“It is the place to be, Miss. You will not regret it.” He grasped the doorhandle. “May I see your invitation?”
Oh. Right. I flipped my phone screen around to show him the QR code I’d received a few hours ago. I’d never heard of using QR codes in this way, but whatever.
He used his phone to scan mine. It beeped, and he pulled the door open. “Enjoy your stay.”
Yep, feeling more like a hotel than ever.
I stepped through and gaped, my feet moving forward with a will of their own.
A man stepped out from behind a desk. “Good afternoon, Miss. May I see your code?”
I showed him my phone as well, my gaze jumping around the room, trying to take it all in at the same time. Upscale didn’t even begin to cover this.
Thick leather benches with individual tables stretched to my left. The whole room smelled like cedar and some kind of flower. The smell dropped my shoulders as people settled onto the leather benches.
There were no rowdy groups, no one leaning too far into anyone’s space. Couples, mostly, and a few small clusters of people who spoke in low tones. No one looked at me, which was slightly unnerving.
A bar ran the length of the wall in front of me, a bright display of bottles and glasses catching the low light from chandeliers and casting it around the room in glittering sparkles.
“Would you like an escort to your room?”
The question brought me back. “Room?”
“Yes, Miss. Your code is to a VIP room upstairs.” He tipped his head toward a set of stairs covered in deep blue carpeting.
Gold banisters snaked up in a spiral that arched to the right, and a velvet rope and yet another man in a black suit stood at the foot.
Quiet music drifted, along with clinking glassware and conversations. No raucous laughter or drunken displays.
I took a deep, cleansing breath and remembered Elena’s instructions. “No, thank you. I’ll find my own way.” Act like you belong. I lifted my chin and approached the velvet rope.
The man standing there gave me a quick look from head to toe. “Good afternoon, Miss.”
I showed him my phone before he had a chance to ask. Like all the others, he scanned it, then moved the rope and stepped back. “Room Eleven.”
Every step up brought a giddiness into my body. I gripped the gold banister, enjoying the feel of the cold metal.
Room eleven.
God, I couldn’t wait.
By the time I reached the top, I couldn’t tell if I was nauseous from my own audacity or elated at the possibilities in front of me.
I counted doors as I passed, which was pointless because they all had little gold plaques on the doors with numbers. I reached room eleven and grasped the doorknob.
Last chance to back out. Deep breath in. Chin up. Shoulders back.
I twisted the knob and pushed the heavy black door inward.
Shadows clung to the edges of the room and a single lit lamp cast light over a massive four-poster bed covered in blue satin sheets.
Three men sat at a table beside the bed.
A black tablecloth draped to the floor, and an abundance of food covered the tabletop. But my stomach dropped as all three men stood.
Not any three men. Three men I knew. My pulse skipped, my vision going dark at the edges.
Leonid took a step forward. Mikhail and Viktor looked as shocked as I felt. Then again, I rarely saw any kind of emotion on any of their faces, so what I took as shock could have been anything.
I blinked quickly, hoping to dispel the image as something from my imagination.
Because there was no way this was real. I’d fallen asleep or been drugged…or something. My breaths came out in quick, panicked bursts.