Page 60 of Take Me Darkly

“During the morning tour,” she said, her voice dropping into a breathless rush as she struggled for the terminology. “You showed me the subterranean layout before the doors opened. There were open alcoves with multiple beds... where couples could be near each other without...” She gestured vaguely, her cheeks burning hotter. “Without interacting. I saw the same setup in Florence. I want to know what that atmosphere feels like. Being close to that energy while we…you know.”

I looked at her, caught off guard by the conversation. “It’s called parallel play.”

She blinked, her lips parting. “Oh. I didn’t know there was a term for it.”

Something raw and unfamiliar expanded in my chest. She delivered the request with the direct, analytical curiosity of a scholar trying to make sense of a world she didn’t yet possess the vocabulary for. She had stepped into my darkness wide-eyed, terrified, yet intensely curious. But there were levels to this life she hadn’t accounted for, and watching her navigate them set my blood on fire.

“I know what you’re thinking,” she added quickly, watching my expression.

“Do you?”

“You’re going to say no.”

I reached across the dark linen, took the wine glass from her hand, and set it far out of her reach. Then I leaned in, holding her gaze with absolute, unyielding authority.

“You’re right. That’s exactly what I’m going to say.”

“Anton—”

“No one gets to see you.” My voice came out quieter than I’d intended, but no less final. “That’s not a negotiation.”

She was silent for a long moment, looking at the table. The music had shifted again—a synth-dark opening note for a Lady Gaga song, dropping into a heavy pulse. The energy on the floor surged. Bodies pressed closer, the last pretense of formal restraint melting away to reveal the raw, uninhibited desire driving the space.

Serena lifted her chin, her blue eyes locking onto mine behind her Venetian mask. “What if I want to be seen, Anton?”

The air in my lungs went cold.

I reached across the table and caught her chin between my thumb and forefinger, applying just enough pressure to hold her still. Her breath hitched, and her eyes went impossibly dark.

She had no idea what she was playing with.

There had been a time not long ago when I may have entertained this. It would have been without a second thought because body heat was just an exchange, an empty physical transaction that meant nothing.

But things were different now.

I couldn’t do that with Serena. There was an inherent purity to what we created together—a sacred, fierce connection that I needed to protect. The thought of another man watching her shudder under my hands wasn’t just unacceptable—it was a violent, intolerable threat to my sanity.

“Let me be very clear,” I growled, my thumb pressing firm against the delicate line of her jaw, feeling her pulse hammering violently against my skin. “There is no reality in which another living man lays eyes on you while I take you.”

“You don’t own me,” she whispered. Her breath was coming shallow and fast, her body leaning imperceptibly into my touch despite her words.

She was aroused. The sheer audacity of the confrontation was turning her on. I held back the dark grin threatening to break.

My wicked little scholar...

Nevertheless, I wasn’t going to change my mind.

“No, princess. I don’t own you,” I agreed softly, releasing her chin as I pushed back my chair and stood to my full height. I extended a hand to her. “Come with me.”

She hesitated, her eyes flicking from my face to my open palm, weighing the danger, before her fingers slid into mine.

I didn’t take her to the apartment.

Instead, I led her through the main floor, through the shifting crowd, past curtained alcoves where shadows of bodies moved behind velvet and the sound of sex could be heard. The music thinned and the air grew warmer. She stayed close against my side, and I felt the slight quickening of her steps as we moved deeper into the club’s interior toward a private corridor.

The room I chose was one of six off the main-level corridor, accessed through a heavy wood door with a black handle. I unlocked it with the master key and brought her inside.

A wide bed sat at the center of the room, framed in dark iron and covered in black satin sheets. A low, padded bench sat at the foot, and a single, low-hanging pendant light cast an amber glow over the polished stone. One wall was fitted with floor-to-ceiling mirror, while the opposite wall held a simple display of water, crystal glasses, and essential supplies. The air was rich with cedar, dark vanilla, and the lingering, unmistakable scent of past indulgence.