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Chapter One
The second glass of bourbon went down easier than the first, and the third slid down my throat like water. A delicious warmth had taken hold of my body and my mind was calm for the first time in days.
This wasn’t my first time at Requited, and I doubted it would be my last, but unlike most of my other visits, I was only there to drink. Something was soothing about the club, as outrageous as it was. Music blared around me, sounds of pleasure and delectable pain cutting through the haze of the pink and purple lights. The chaos calmed me.
I raised my head, a flush heating my cheeks. The bartender who had poured my three glasses had drifted away down the bar and was busy setting up a tray of cocktails. I should have asked her to leave the bottle.
“You’re Donovan, right?” The voice was friendly and almost familiar.
It took me a moment, but I recognized the man who had spoken to me. He worked at the club and could have stood in as the dictionary definition of tall, dark, and handsome. Figured. I shouldn’t have been surprised to see him, but he served as an unfortunate reminder of exactly what I was trying to forget.
I mustered up a weak smile. “Right. And you’re…Reese?”
Apparently, he was happy that I remembered his name. His face brightened. “That I am. I’d been wondering if you’d be coming by.”
It probably would have been better to stay away, but I couldn’t shake the pull the club had on me; how easy it was to be drawn into its world. A place where anyone could indulge their desires without fear or judgment. Half the fucking place was a dominatrix’s wet dream, filled with every prop and toy imaginable. At least once a week there would be a performance on their stage, always something erotic and beautiful.
There was a show tonight, a woman using the art of shibari to turn herverywilling participants into works of human art. I had found my eyes returning to her with every new volunteer, unable to drag my mind away from the way her hands wrapped and bound the rope over skin, wondering about the way the rope burned. From the steady chorus of moans pouring off the stage, I imagined it was bliss.
I cleared my throat, bringing myself back to the present. I was there to drink, not get a hard-on from rope play.
“I like it here,” I told him.
Somehow his smile grew even more. “I’m glad to hear it. I heard from Logan that things…didn’t exactly work out since the last time I saw you.”
“You could say that.”
I didn’t want to talk about it, but Reese seemed to understand. He just nodded from across the bar and set a bottle of bourbon beside my glass. “Next one is on the house,” he said, pouring out a solid three fingers of the amber liquid. “Let me know if you need anything. Otherwise,” he grinned, “well, you know the drill.”
He left me in peace after that. A vague unease wormed around my stomach, and I hoped I hadn’t been rude. I couldn’t seem to find the energy to be social.
I made a vow to myself. This would be my last night of wallowing.
I had been rejected - twice, in a way. My infatuation with Daphne Calloway had failed to reach her, and my desire for her secretary had crashed and burned. Though, I supposed I never really had a chance with Marina anyway. My parts didn’t exactly align with her interests.
As much as it hurt to admit it, I knew I never really had a chance. I had seen how those two looked at each other when the other wasn’t watching. They were constantly drawn together, like a planet and her moon.
It was time to move on. That was what the bourbon was for and so far it was doing its job.
Little by little my glass began to empty until the warmth in my body claimed my mind. Everything was calm. Everything was peaceful.
Until I was disturbed.
“Your face turns red when you drink.”
I frowned at the new arrival, the liquor slowing down my thoughts. “Richard?”
I must have hit my limit because there was no logical reason for Oliver Calloway’s secretary to be sitting beside me in a sex club. I blinked, then blinked again. He was still there, an amused grin on his face. “Surprised to see me?”
There was less than a swallow left in my glass so I knocked it back and started to stand. This was too much. There was no question that Richard knew all about what had happened between me, Daphne, and Marina, and I wasn’t about to sit there and let him make a fool out of me.
I had just made it to my feet when his hand shot out and kept me in place. “There’s no need to leave. I just want to talk.”
I frowned. “There’s nothing for us to talk about.”
“Oh?” He cocked his head. “Not even your threesome with Daphne and Marina? Or your broken heart?”
I shut my eyes. H.R. would have a goddamn field day if they knew half of what went on in those offices. “I don’t have a broken heart,” I said, sitting back down.
