Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 78825 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78825 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
“Did we pay to get in?” Thankfully it’s loud enough in here no one can hear my whisper.
He nods. “Yes, I took care of it. But that’s not what free means in this context.”
My heart beats faster. What’s he talking about?
“Oh?”
“It means that people who enter are free to anyone else who wants them. Singles. Swingers. You know. No couples go there.”
A sick feeling of dread washes over me, but I will myself to do what I have to. I forbid myself from backing down now.
This is a job. Just a job.
Fabien gives the doorway a hostile glare as if willing it to burst into flames in front of him.
We’ll have to pretend to be okay with this if we’re going to get the talisman. If we’re going to rescue his brother. If we’re going to do what we came here to do.
If I’m going to earn my money, I remind myself, a vague echo that has lost its appeal.
This was not part of the plan.
I get an idea.
Next to us, a threesome enters, and those all around us erupt with greetings. Someone popular, then. I use the opportunity to talk to Fabien again.
“We could go and bring the dupe,” I whisper to him. “We could pretend that was the real talisman and get your brother back.”
“We can’t.” He looks pained. “It’s only meant as a temporary replacement. Fuck. It will only do as a stand-in from a distance. Anyone who inspects it closely will know.”
Damn it.
“Let’s do this,” I whisper. I open my mouth to tell him it’s okay. We’re not really together anyway, so what’s a little pretend? But something in the way he’s still glaring at the door tells me this is probably not a good idea.
Does he really want me, then? I feel like I’m picking petals off a flower. He wants me, he wants me not.
“We’ll stick to what we planned,” he says in a hushed whisper. “But I’m telling you now that I’m not sharing you. We’ll get in there, find a way to swap it out. Pretend we’re part of the crowd. And if anyone tries to buy you—”
“Tell them you already did,” I finish. We stare at each other in silence. The seconds tick by slowly as his eyes, intent on me, blaze with heat.
I stated the truth. Then why does it feel so awful?
“Tell them you’re taken,” he amends.
There’s a subtle difference there, but I don’t quite know what it is.
Bought? Taken?
I nod. “Let’s do this.”
He leads the way, which seems pretty much the norm if he’s the master here. As we walk down the hall, the noise dies. It’s eerily quiet. Too quiet. My hands feel cold as I walk on wobbly knees beside Fabien.
“Behind me. Follow my lead. Eyes down.” Right. Here, he’s the one in charge. He’s the master.
Something intense and visceral passes through me, a strange, sudden, and incredibly erotic desire to obey the man I call Master. To let him take the lead in here. To lean into our roles as long as we can.
I can’t let myself flirt with anything more than the task in front of me. I can’t allow myself to be seduced by the hint of concern, control… ownership.
By the thought that I might mean something to him.
If I don’t guard my heart —
We reach the room. I don’t know what I expect, but it’s nothing like this. There are easily three times as many people in here as are in the other room. Men, women, and androgynous people mingle and laugh, socialize and chat, and still others are apparently very into voyeurism.
The hot, sweet smell of sex and seduction fills the room. Music pipes in from hidden speakers, and somewhere I can’t see, there’s a clink of glasses.
“Two o’clock,” he says in a low voice.
Our target.
“Welcome.”
I start at the sound of a voice right beside me. Am I allowed to lift my gaze without permission? Probably not. I stare at the floor as Fabien nods his head. “Thank you.”
“Do you have an entry pass here?” I can only see polished leather shoes and dress pants, but the person beside him is dressed identically. Security guard?
My mind races with an excuse. We left it in the car. Surely our names are written down somewhere? With enough money—
“Of course.”
Fabien pulls something up on his phone and shows it to him.
He knew, then. He planned this. He was prepared.
The guard steps aside and allows us entry.
“You knew?” I ask.
“Eyes down. If I have to remind you again, I’ll punish you.”
I cast my eyes down. “I said, you knew?”
“I heard you.”
I blink. Did he really just say that?”
“That’s enough,” he says in a low, steady voice. A sudden chill paints his voice.
Excuse me?
I have a sudden urge to shove him. “Enough what?”
“Mouthing off.” There’s a steel note of warning in his tone.