Nick offered his arm, which Jannie accepted, her fingertips pressing into his muscular forearm. As he led her out of the enormous room, she sensed eyes on her and looked up to see a balcony. Several individuals in black jackets leaned on the wrought iron railing, gazing down at the crowd below.
Their keen eyes scrutinized the patrons, clearly taking mental notes on each one.
Passing underneath, Jannie locked eyes with one woman whose gaze was so intense, it made her feel ensnared. Seeing that Jannie met her stare, the woman’s eyes narrowed.
Jannie narrowed her eyes right back. “Who are those people?” she asked Nick through clenched teeth.
“See the pocket squares?” He didn’t bother to look up. “All worn on the left side. Those are all doms and dommes.” He said it so nonchalantly, as if every club had handkerchief codes.
Indeed, every person up there wore a black suit jacket and a pocket square, in various colors, Jannie noted. Some wore more than one color.
“Do the colors signify anything?” she asked.
“They absolutely do.”
Jannie realized that Nick, too, sported a black jacket. Out of his left breast pocket, a square peeked out in a simple, straight fold.
It was gray.
“What does yours stand for?”
A slow half-smile spread across his handsome face, and his dark eyes flashed fire as they caught hers.
“Bondage.”
CHAPTER 26
Jannie
In the low lighting that glowed golden, Jannie surveyed the descending rows of luxurious leather chairs, alternating black and red.
The stage stretched across the entire width of the auditorium, concealed behind a black velvet curtain trimmed in crimson. Judging by the expressions on the other patrons’ faces, whatever that curtain was hiding was going to be quite something to see.
Jannie glanced around and realized, to her disappointment, that most of the seats were already taken. But Nick took her hand and swiftly started down the steps, taking her with him.
He motioned with his chin. “Our seats are in the front row.”
“Ah. Owner privilege.”
“You’d better believe it.”
The gong sounded again.
“Five … minutes,” the female voice intoned from the speakers.
They reached the front row, where, sure enough, she saw four empty seats right by the aisle and started to lower herself into one.
Nick stopped her with a slight tug on her hand. “Red one.”
“What?”
“Yours is the red one. The black one is my seat.”
“Why?”
He smirked. “You’ll know soon enough.”
She hesitated, then moved to the left and sat in the red seat. A moment later, she realized that every woman in the audience was sitting in a red chair.
