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There’s something new in her eyes. An understanding, maybe. I can’t pinpoint it, but she looks at me like she’s seeing me for the first time, and it’s fucking terrifying but also somehow…a really fucking good feeling.
One I need to forget about.
Not latch onto.
I am not a soft man.
And I need to remember that when I’m around this beautiful woman who could very well be my fucking demise.
“We should order,” I tell her. Shutting off the part of my brain that continues to defy me despite my greatest efforts to not allow this woman to penetrate my carefully constructed walls.
Who am I,and what have I done with the Giana I was before Dante?
The question reverberates in my mind as we walk into Dante’s sex club. When he asked where he could take me after we ate, I didn’t hesitate before telling him I wanted to come back here—to the place I can’t stop thinking about.
The things happening inside these walls are beyond compare. So intriguing…enthralling. I can’t stop obsessing over it.
Things almost went too smoothly. I sent a text to Niccolò, told him he needed to cover for me, and he agreed to stay out until I’m ready to go home. I conveniently left out the part about the almost mugging, and I’d never tell him where I really am, but he thinks I’m with Remi and that we’ll meet up in a couple of hours. It’s his job to tell our father, and since it’s coming from one of his prized sons, I’m sure there will be zero pushback.
Oh, to be a man in this world.
I forward things over from my actual phone to my burner phone and power down my real phone, thankful I have the burner with me so I can continue communicating with Nico when need be.
Dante leads me around the dimly lit club as we weave through to a hallway that’s much quieter. I didn’t see this part of the club during my original tour, but it’s very similar to the other hallway with the viewing rooms, doors on either side of the hall, the dark purple and black walls, and the same sconces throughout the club.
“This way, Giana,” he says, continuing to lead me.
Adrenaline pumps throughout my body, still coursing through my veins from everything that’s transpired. I linger my eyes on his backside, the suit coat around his shoulders, the most dressed man in this entire building. It fits him like a damn glove, causing my stare to loiter on his broad shoulders until he stops us in front of an ornate door, complete with Renaissance carvings that add texture and gorgeous detailing.
“You want me to teach you, but I need to know what your limits are first,” he says. “We’re not fucking tonight.”
My face falls, although I don’t think I’m quite ready anyway. Still, the timeline we’re working with doesn’t leave much room for simply getting to know each other either.
“Soon. But tonight, I want to learn more about what you want, what you’re interested in, how I can please you.” He narrows his eyes at me as he opens the door and motions me inside.
The second I cross over the threshold, that adrenaline that was surging through me moments ago spikes to an all new level. My eyes can’t decide where to focus. It’s all so fucking beautiful—sultry and enticing.
A mixture of votives, tea lights, tapers, and pillar candles are arranged throughout the room. From the floor to hanging shelves and tables, the room is illuminated strictly by candlelight. The flames flicker on floating shelves to my right, and I finally break away from the awe of the candles and to the beautiful burgundy color of the walls and a strikingly gorgeous black chandelier with crystals cascading from it in the center of the room.
“Dante,” I whisper…I think. “Dante, this room is beautiful.”
I can’t formulate words because I have never seen such a beautifully decorated space in all my life.
“Welcome.” A voice sounds from the far corner of the room, one that’s dim with shadows and low light.
I jump and shift my attention to the corner and realize a man and woman are both standing there. They step forward, each wearing barely there lingerie; the woman in thin, see-through fabric that shows off her bombshell physique. She’s gorgeous, with an hourglass figure, a large chest that fits her frame perfectly, and hips and curves for days.
The man towers over her. His blond hair is long and unruly, his facial hair a medium length, as if he’s growing it out, making him appear rugged but still very handsome. I glance down to the fabric shielding his groin area from view.
“Giana, this is Naomi,”—Dante gestures to the woman—“and this is Christopher.”
We all close the distance between us and exchange handshakes and pleasantries, and somehow, even though I feel out of place, I don’t feel uncomfortable.
I swear it’s the atmosphere.
There’s something about it.
“These two help new members, and even members who are looking to delve into other areas of kink and fetish fantasies, decide where and what they are most interested in.” Dante looks from me to Naomi and Christopher before meeting my eyes again.
