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“No. My business keeps me busy.”
Alex nodded as if he understood. “The club offers anonymity. There is risk for the BDSM community. Most members use a Dungeon name, such as Tinker.”
I palmed my beard with a slow stroke, waiting for him to elaborate.
His gaze locked on mine. “I don’t have any other information for you.”
“Her name?” I asked as a test. Would he give me the name Mia Toliver?
Alex shifted his gaze from Ant to Ronan. “Iris White.”
Ant slipped his hand into his jacket. I raised a palm, stopping him from escalating the inquiry to a threat.
“I’ll take all the information you have on Iris White from your membership files.”
“You’re welcome to it, but it’s a dead end. My sources have exhausted the lead. She used a false name.”
I nodded. Possibly. Or more likely, I was being lied to. “Her name is Mia,” I said.
Ronan’s eyes widened, but he quickly lowered his head. Not before I gleaned the truth. They were hiding the woman.
I stood. “I will find the girl by any means necessary.”
“Let us know if you do,” Alex said. “We’d like to know she’s safe.”
“Perhaps I’ll come by the club while I’m in town.”
“I’m afraid that won’t be possible. Our membership process is complicated,” Ronan said.
Alex interrupted. “If you want to experience the club, you can enter as my guest. No weapons, and no muscle,” he said indicating Ant. “You’ll be on my private viewing platform or in a private room with a sub of my choosing. You won’t interrogate my members, and you’ll have a DM with you at all times in the private room. A DM is a dungeon monitor. You have no experience in a club.
“You’ll respect the privacy of my members. You won’t ask questions about Tinker. I’ll get you all the information I have.” Alex stepped around his desk. “I’m not interested in who you are or what the fuck you do. I don’t want your kind of trouble. Keep the mafia out of my club.”
Too late. I was already here.
Allegra
This was happening. I stood on a pedestal. Mirrors caught my reflection from every angle. I rested a hand on my stomach to calm the wild fluttering.
My mother dabbed at invisible tears. The gown was stunning with capped sleeves and a sweetheart neckline. The satin molded to my torso like a second skin, tucked in at my waist, and exploded into a shimmering ball gown bottom reminiscent of a fairytale princess. A gown picked by my mother.
But this wasn’t my fairytale anymore. Marco wasn’t prince charming, and I wasn’t his princess. I ran my fingers over the delicate fabric.
“Is there something wrong?” The woman had made the dress fit my body perfectly. She spoke with pins pinched between her lips.
“It’s beautiful,” I said and turned to my mother. “But I can’t wear this dress.”
My mother gasped and lunged to her feet. She fanned out the veil, draping it over my shoulders. “Trust me. This is your dress, and you look lovely in it.”
“But it’s not me.” The dress was an ostentatious monstrosity and matched the ring at the bottom of the lake.
Deidre groaned and flopped back onto the plush, circular couch. Her maid of honor dress bunched around her. “I’m going to the fitting room to take this off.” She batted at the fullness of the dress.
“You girls need to stop complaining,” my mom said.
I met my mother’s harsh stare in the mirror.
“We have less than two weeks until the wedding. Marco left us with no time to plan a proper wedding, and your father wants to get the marriage settled immediately.”
