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A woman appears at Leo’s window, and he lowers it for her to pass through a distinctive light-brown box with loppy white writing.
I’ve never known a man who can acquire Louboutins at two in the morning.
The window goes back up after he gives her a polite nod, and she disappears down the street. He lifts the lid, takes out the red satin bag, and passes the empty box forward to Diego.
His hand pats his thigh and he looks at me expectantly.
I lift my foot and strong fingers wrap around my ankle, pulling my leg straight. He removes my slipper and motions for me to do the same with my other foot. Next thing I know, I’m practically lying across Leo’s back seat, drowning in his suit jacket, with my bright red toes wriggling in his lap.
His cool palm blankets my feet to stop my fidgeting, and once he’s satisfied I’m still, he undoes the drawstring pouch.
He removes a pair of gorgeous white pumps from the bag, lifts each foot, and cradles the signature red soles as he slips both perfectly sized shoes on.
I tense when his head dips. For a second it seems like he’s going to kiss the top of my ankle, but he catches himself and instead twists my legs back to the carpeted floor. His hold loosens and his fingers trail a short path up my legs, moving away all too soon. My skin tingles in the wake of his touch.
His eyes lift. “Perfect,” he says, erasing my earlier unease. “Are you ready?”
I nod.
He opens the door and steps onto the curb, holding out a hand for me.
“Thank you, Diego,” I say to the driver as I shuffle along the seat toward Leo.
“My pleasure, miss,” he responds, bidding us farewell with a hearty smile.
I stand tentatively on the stiletto heels, but Leo’s grip is unwavering. He moves my hand to the crook of his arm as we climb the stairs, and he nods to the bouncer who opens the door for us at the top.
He leads us through an empty restaurant until we reach an elevator guarded by yet another bouncer.
“Scusa, dolcezza,” Leo says as he slips a hand into the jacket draped over my shoulders.
I tense when his arm grazes my breast. His retreat from the inner pocket is decidedly more careful, so I know it was an accident.
He brushes it off and hands the bouncer a sleek black card with two silver Vs elegantly intertwined in the center. The man swipes the card over a magnetic reader, and the elevator opens.
“Welcome back, Mr. Conti,” is all he says as he hands Leo back the card.
Thank you, Julian,” Leo replies, slipping the card into his pants pocket as he follows me into the elevator.
The doors close and I’m alone with my stranger, descending into the unknown. I’m distinctly aware of his hand at the small of my back, the dim lighting and lush, layered music only adding to the breathless atmosphere.
Mirrors surround us and a sleek panel flanking the doors houses an emergency stop button and another to control the lighting, but there are no floors to select. Not even a display to show our destination.
“I shouldn’t have brought you here,” Leo says.
I peer up at him, taking in his broad shoulders and looming height as he stares forward, trailing his fingers up and down my spine. The jacket I thought was a sweet gesture becomes the enemy in that moment.
“Especially considering where I found you,” he continues. “But I didn’t have much of a choice. My friend is a little…paranoid and doesn’t have a phone or allow devices in her club.”
“Wait. How does she talk to people?”
“In person or through a messenger.” He shakes his head. “It’s tedious, but makes sense given her situation.
His tone hints to leave it at that.
“This is probably not an environment you’re used to, but you’re safe here,” he reassures me.
“The members have been thoroughly vetted.” His hand pauses and he looks down at me, his swirling blue eyes holding me captive. “Stay close to me, anyway.”
