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Shivering with heat, I pull my gaze from the lurid scene playing out before me and make my way to one of the bars.
“Double vodka and soda, please,” I blurt to the bartender. When he brings it, I suck half of it down quickly before I turn to let my eyes slide around the room, heart pounding.
It’s no big deal. Or at least, it doesn’t have to be. It’s just sex, and like I just said oh-so-airily to Taylor, everyone has it.
Except me.
But that changes right now.
I chew on my lip, my gaze sliding across the room and finally landing on a built, older, bearded man. He seems to feel me looking at him, because he turns and arches a dark brow behind his mask. A hungry smile curls the corners of his lips, and I blush.
Maybe?
But then my eyes drop to the band on his wrist: red, with black lines. According to Taylor, that marks him as a sadistic Dom.
I shiver. Yeah, that’s going to be a no. I mean, I enjoy watching hardcore stuff online. But who knowshowhardcore this particular stranger wants to get. And when his gaze narrows darkly and dangerously, and his smile turns downright cruel and hungry, my mind is made up.
No fucking way.
Kinky sounds intriguing. Rough sounds exciting. Getting hogtied, ball-gagged, and flogged while this guy drips candle wax on my vagina sounds like jumping into the deep end when I don’t even know how to swim.
I shake my head, shivering again at the way he glares at me before he too looks away for other prey.
My eyes land on a tall man with short, buzzed hair and a clean jaw, with tattoos on his neck. The mix of clean cut and dangerous catches my interest, and I blush when he turns to grin and raise his glass in my direction…
…Until the brunette I didn’t realize was on his arm turns to grin at me as well, curling a finger at me.
Well,that’smore than I’m willing to take on.
Very flattered, but wrong team.
Shaking my head, I sigh and turn back to the bar, realizing I’ve somehow finished my drink already. I’m in the middle of ordering another when suddenly a laughing voice cuts through everything and instantly sends my stomach plummeting to the floor and my heart rate through the roof.
It’s a voiceI know.
“Well, I should. I come here often enough.”
I swallow, my face turning white as I slowly slide my head around. His back is to me. His face is partially covered. But when he brings his hand up to shove his fingers through his long, dark hair, and I see the tattoo on his wrist and back of the hand that I’ve seen dozens of times—including earliertoday—I know damn well who it is.
For one frozen moment, I consider running. Or at least slinking away and hoping to God and everything else that is good and holy that I can get out of there and change back into boring, buttoned-up, straight-laced Elsa before he realizes it’smein the scandalous black dress and the S&M kitten mask.
There are a million bars in New York City. Tinder is a thing. It’s not like it would be remotely difficult for me to get laid the very second I wanted to. But the entire point of doing this at Club Venom tonight wastotalanonymity.
And now here I am a foot away from a man whose familyI work for, whom I see several times a week, for fuck’s sake.
A man who is as arrogant, cocky, and smug as he is outrageously gorgeous.
A man who is a dangerous, murderous criminal. No “allegedly” about it, despite what I say during office hours.
A man with dark hair, tanned skin, piercing ice-blue eyes, and a jawline sharp enough to cut glass. A man with a body built for sin, carved out of marble, a testament to the hours he’s poured into working on it in boxing gyms and at the underground fights he’s known for.
A man who’salsoknown for his endlessly revolving door of women.
Hades Drakos, the dark crown prince of the Drakos Greek mafia family.
I scowl at his back, and a shiver teases up mine.
Of all the fucking gin joints…
