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Finally emerging from the bathroom, his wife was putting in a pair of large hoop earrings. How could he spend twenty-four hours basically sleeping, eating, and fucking the woman and yet still have the sight of her take his breath away? She’d put on a casual dress that on her looked anything but casual. Her long, blonde hair was in a messy up-do that looked like she’d just come from her salon.
“Christ, you’re gorgeous. How the hell did I ever land you?” He was only half kidding.
Stopping in front of him, Tiff dragged her manicured nail down the front of his dress shirt, a flirty look he loved in her eyes. “Don’t you remember? I told you that first weekend we met… right after you’d rocked my world—physically and figuratively—that you’d ruined me. After you, no other man would measure up. So… now you’re stuck with me.” She leaned up to give him a quick kiss, careful not to smear her shimmering lipstick.
“Lucky me. I wish we could stay in until it was time to go down to the club, but I guess I do need to find you some food. I need you to have plenty of energy later.”
“Oh goodie,” she deadpanned. “I’m super nervous about this new club. Maybe you should just go down and talk to the dungeon monitors on your own.”
It wasn’t the first time she’d mentioned it, but it would be the last. “Enough, Tiff.Weare going. We’re going to play and have fun. Now, let’s go. We’re late.”
“Yes, Sir,” she answered, leaning down to pick up her tiny purse.
As they walked to the door, he confirmed, “You left your phone up here, right? When I signed all of the paperwork for the stay here at the club, it was super clear about no electronics allowed downstairs.”
“Yeah, it’s on the bedstand, but it’s a silly rule. I don’t like not having my cell with me.”
He didn’t say it, but the strict rules had seemed over-restrictive to him too, but the more he’d thought about it since reviewing the contract a few weeks before, the more he’d been considering reviewing the rules at The Punishment Pit. True, they’d never had a security problem yet with anyone breaking their confidentiality rules, but one couldn’t be too careful these days.
The first signs of life reached them as they got to the top of the grand staircase. Where the first floor had been dark and empty the night before, it was brightly lit with well-dressed patrons streaming in the front door, welcomed by the doorman.
They had no more arrived at the bottom step when they got their first surprise. Walking in the door, with a gaggle of photographers chasing behind them, was none other than last year’s winner of the Best Supporting Actor award at the Oscars. If that wasn’t exciting enough, the woman he had his arm wrapped around was that famous singer who’d almost died of an overdose the year before.
Tiffany leaned in to whisper after they’d turned in the opposite direction. “Did you see who that was? We really are in Hollywood, aren’t we?”
Lukus was pretty sure it was a fluke, right up until they walked through a library-like room with a six-person poker game already in progress. The fact that three of the six at the table were professional baseball players didn’t go over his head, although he suspected Tiffany wouldn’t notice. Yet, as they continued weaving through the open floorplan of the mammoth house, they saw more people who looked familiar.
It was when he got to the kitchen that he wished he’d asked more questions about the owner they were to be meeting. He was a damn private investigator. Why the hell hadn’t he done his homework on the owners like he had on Elijah, the Dungeon Master? He was just about to weave them over towards the chef in the kitchen to ask for help when a man taller than him approached them, his hand outstretched.
“Lukus and Tiffany Mitchell?”
Lukus worked hard to school his reaction as he reached out to shake hands with the man who looked like he’d just walked off the cover of a GQ magazine.
“Guilty as charged,” he said. “You must be the owner of this awesome establishment?”
“Guilty as charged,” the man parroted. “Jaxson Cartwright-Davidson. Welcome to Runway. Come, I have a table over here near the fireplace. It’s freaking freezing out. I can’t get warm.”
Lukus and Tiffany both started laughing as they followed Jaxson deeper into the dining room area, taking seats across the large table from their host. “To us, this is like summer weather. It was only ten degrees when we left Chicago yesterday,” Lukus shared.
Tiffany jumped in, “And my parents texted me that they ran into lake-effect snow driving home after the wedding. They almost got stuck in the eight inches of snow on the way back to Michigan.”
Their host whistled before adding, “Yeah, well I grew up in D.C. and still spend part of the year there, but never in the winter if I can help it.”
He had no more than finished his sentence when their host jumped up, rushing to approach a table of four across the room. Unsure what was going on, Lukus and Tiff glanced at each other first before turning to watch Jaxson ripping a cell phone out of the hand of a young woman who didn’t even look old enough to be in the club.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing with this in here?” he demanded, clearly not bothered by trying to keep the confrontation quiet.
“Oh, stop being such a prude, Jaxson. That rule is for the people who come here trying to get pictures of the rich and famous. Iamrich and famous, and you know it.”
Lukus couldn’t wait to see how the owner handled the chick with the smirk all over her face. He didn’t need to wait long to find out.
Whipping out his own cell phone, Jaxson made a call. “Miguel, are you in the club today?” He waited, listening, before adding. “I need you to come to the kitchen right away. We have a security breach and I need you to escort Ms. Rawlings from the premise. Seems she is unable to be separated from her cell phone.”
He hadn’t even hung up before the troublemaker was on her feet, shouting back. “What the hell, you just used a cell phone so why can’t I?”
That was when she made her biggest mistake—slapping the front of Jaxson’s suit as she reached to snatch her phone back. His reflexes were lightning fast as he captured her wrist, yanking her hand away from him as he leaned closer. “Do you really want me to charge you with assault too?”
“Assault? I just…” Her shrill voice trailed off under the dominant glare of Jaxson. She actually wilted backwards when the owner was joined by a burly guy Lukus assumed was Miguel.
