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“Is there a fire or some type of emergency in here that I need to know about? Or do you normally run through the middle of packed clubs like a lunatic?” Myla asked, staring into his apologetic brown eyes. The vitriol that originally laced her voice had simmered down the moment she looked into his face.

From the question that she asked, he knew that she hadn’t seen what had actually happened. Internally, he smirked. Outwardly, he kept up the performance.

“I’m sorry. This is going to sound a little weird, but this crowd is a little wilder than what I’m accustomed to. I guess I was just in a rush to leave. Were you headed to a certain level of the club? I’ll help escort you and make sure you’re ok, since I did run into you pretty hard.”

Myla was stunned by his willingness to assist her. It was normal to step on a toe, spill a drink, or bump into someone in a club. Usually, the person who committed the offense would walk off without so much as an excuse me, but not him. He had even broken one of the rules for her. Myla was intrigued. She definitely wanted to see where this new connection would take her.

5

“You’re the first person in history to ever knock someone down in a club, then offer them assistance. I’m ok. I was actually about to do some exploring. This is my first time here. I don’t know much about Château Noir. I was told I could explore three levels, so why not.” Myla chuckled as she watched a topless woman strut by her with sparklers and a bottle of champagne.

“I think this club caters to whatever their patron’s desire. That’s why there are so many different levels,” he answered. “Level 1 we know is the Masquerade ball; level 2 is a restaurant and lounge. Come on, let’s get some drinks? It’s on me,” he said as he grabbed her hand and wrapped it around his arm.

Myla damned near gushed all over herself at the feel of his muscle-ripped bicep. It had been four years since she had been with a man. It had been even longer since she was with a fit, health-conscious man. Terry had been too busy sucking dick in the closet to go to the gym.

Making their way off the elevator, Myla’s eyes widened at the sight before her. Level 1 was lively and celebratory, but Level 2 of Château Noir was intimate and mature. Everything screamed regal and high society. Myla noticed that in this setting, no one wore masks.

“We’d like a table for two. Preferably a booth,” he said to the hostess.

The hostess looked around as if someone would come to her rescue. When she saw no one, she said the only thing she thought she could say, “Umm…ok. Right this way. Your server, Tina, will be right with you.”

“Can we start off with brisket bites, lobster breadsticks, and lobster bisque?”

“Sir, you’ll have to place your order with your server. She’ll be over shortly,” the hostess said before practically running away from the table.

Myla was so in awe of her surroundings that she completely missed the awkward exchange.

“This level is so beautiful. Thank you for bringing me up here,” Myla said after sliding into the black velvet-lined booth. She ran her hands over the soft, smooth material. This classy setting with its crystal chandeliers, marble floors, and ice sculptures was more of her scene.

“You’re more than welcome. It’s the least I could do. Would you like a drink? Champagne, Lemon drop—”

“Lemon water is fine. I’m the designated driver tonight. You know, normally I get a man’s name before he plows me down to the floor then feeds me.”

Surprise crossed his face before he burst into laughter. Myla couldn’t help but notice how perfect his teeth were. Nor did she miss the deep dimples that made an appearance on both sides of his well-defined cheeks.

“I apologize. I’m usually more of a gentleman. I’m Dante. Dante Helgard. If I’m not mistaken, I think you have me at a disadvantage, Mrs….” He left the sentence open for her to fill in her name. The eye contact that he was giving her made her squirm.

Dear God,

It’s been four years since I entertained a man. The way this man is staring into my eyes has me ready to feed him my vagina. God, please keep me off this man’s dick.

Myla sent a silent prayer to God. Staring into Dante’s eyes felt hypnotizing. He was just too irresistible. Possibly wealthy, handsome, and the absence of a ring or tan line on his finger told her that he was probably not married.

“Myla. Dr. Myla Pleasant,” Myla said as she went into her small purse and handed Dante her black and gold business card.

Before even reading it, Dante whistled at the weight of the card. He had never held a business card that wasn’t made of paper or hard plastic. The card was cold as if it had been made from aluminum. The raised foil letters of her name and her engraved credentials hinted at one thing: her wealth. Blinking the dollar signs away, Dante began to read:

Dr. Myla Pleasant, Psy.D.

Specializing in: Mental health, behavioral disorders,

and substance abuse.

“Even though we met under crazy circumstances, I must admit that it’s my pleasure to meet you and spend New Year’s Eve with such a beautiful and educated woman.”

God, I’m begging you. Give me the strength to keep my legs closed.

Myla said another silent prayer then crossed her legs at the ankle and squeezed her thighs to stop the sensation now throbbing in her clitoris.