Chapter Nine
Lydia
The screen blurred before her eyes, and Lydia had to blink several times to bring it back into focus. She’d been staring at the same damn spreadsheet for hours now and hadn’t absorbed a damn thing from the cost analysis of hiring an outside tech firm to reverse engineer the app that Damian had brought to her.
She hated to admit it, but his ideas about the company and the app would launch their product into the stratosphere. So she needed to figure out a way to still make that happen, without ever talking to the asshole again.
His face popped up in her memory, as it had so often in the month since their one night together. Just as always, it was the image of his face right before she stormed off on the street. When he realized she wasn’t going to budge. Panic, sadness, and pain had marred his features. But it had all been an act. At least she was pretty sure it had. Between the email and the precarious way he had gone about meeting her, he couldn’t be trusted. And if Lydia ever decided to go down the road to a relationship, she needed trust to be the absolute first thing on the list of traits she sought in a partner.
For the first time in her life, however, she was doubting herself. What if he had been telling the truth? What if she misunderstood the email? What if he really never intended on telling anyone about her activities in Zion?
Normally, she would never doubt her instincts. The problem was that every bone in her body was telling her to give him a second chance. To see what he had to say. But she just couldn’t get around her own stubbornness.
The worst part about the whole thing was not only that she missed the asshole so much but also that he had apparently ruined her for all other men. The night before, she had scrolled through her list of former lovers, and not a single one held any appeal. And though going a month away from Club Zion was certainly not out of the ordinary for her, she couldn’t muster even the slightest bit of interest in reserving a room.
Instead, all she wanted was a man who stalked her, blackmailed her, and possibly hacked her accounts. There was something very, very wrong with her.
The intercom on her phone clicked to life, and the receptionist’s voice filled Lydia’s empty office. “Ms. St. James, there is a Stephan Kincaid on the phone for you. Would you like me to transfer him through?”
Why would Stephan be calling her? He hadn’t done that since she had gone through the rigorous background check required of admittance to Club Zion. Normally, if she wanted to set up something special for herself, she called him directly. Never the other way around.
“Thank you, Joslyn. You can send the call through.” Lydia sat back and waited the few seconds it took for the call to ring on her line. “Hello, Stephan. To what do I owe this surprise?”
“Lydia, good to hear your voice. Well, we are having a special exhibition tonight with new feature rooms that I think you might be especially aroused by.” Stephan’s voice was smooth as silk, just like every other part of him. The man could quite literally sell anything to anyone, and she was no exception. “I wanted to extend a personal invitation for you to attend tonight’s unveiling.”
The thought of putting her club persona on and venturing in to see some new kink they would be featuring held about as much appeal as getting a salt scrub after a full Brazilian wax. Her heart hurt, something she had never experienced before, and she didn’t think engaging in meaningless sex with strangers was going to make it any better.
“Thank you for the invitation, Stephan, but I think I am going to pass this time. Just not in the mood today.” Lydia wondered idly if Damian would be there tonight as well. He was an investor after all. If there was to be the unveiling of an exhibit, surely the investors would be included.
“Truth be told, Lydia, I’m not sure if we have crossed over a line here with the new rooms. My employees, the other club members, they will all try to kiss my ass and tell me what I want to hear. I want a real opinion.” Stephan chuckled, the rich honey of his voice practically dripping over the phone. Lydia herself had never had a true attraction to the man. He simply wasn’t her type, but she could see the appeal. “I know from past experience that you will not pull any punches. Please, come, take everything in, and simply speak your mind in the manner I know you are accustomed to.”
Never one to give an answer without truly weighing the options, Lydia paused. Would going out for a night of observation really be all that bad? She wouldn’t participate—couldn’t—the way her heart and mind were at war with each other over Damian. But she could go. Watch. Distract herself.
Of course, she would have to look her best, just in case the investors were in attendance.
***
The first time Lydia entered Zion, she had been unsure whether or not she was at the right place. She had heard whispered stories of the sex club for years and decided it might be the answer to the desires that swirled in her belly with no, or at least disappointing, outlets. But the exterior was nothing like she thought it would be.
The club was in no way illegal; however, it was secretive. To the uninformed, the building housing Zion looked like nothing more than a swanky country club or boutique hotel. The main floor was a cavernous lobby and dining room, with private conference rooms at either side that occasionally housed weddings or special events. The upper three floors were guest rooms appointed in a warm, sophisticated style. Gaining access to the real life of the place, however, required a key to a private elevator toward the back of the hotel.
Club Zion took up the bottom two floors of the hotel, and for the first time since being a member of the club, Lydia entered through Stephan’s private entrance. She’d been waiting for the other shoe to drop for weeks. The anticipation of when Damian would release his knowledge of her proclivities had her on constant alert. Thankfully, the owner of the club had agreed to let her sneak in through the back so she could avoid any wandering eyes seeing her walk through the lobby.
Stephan opened the door to his office at the rear of the building and offered up a rare hug in greeting. “You look lovely as always, Angel.”
Ever the professional, Stephan never used real names inside the club. In fact, Lydia wasn’t entirely sure Stephan was his real name. “You as well, Stephan.” As she walked through his sparse office toward an elevator in the corner, she gave him a sly look over her shoulder. “You know, it just occurred to me I’m not sure if Stephan is even your real name.”
The sleek man laughed lightly, placing his hand on her shoulder as he escorted her into the tiny elevator. “Unlike most of my clients, I have nothing to hide. My name is indeed Stephan Kincaid. I make no secret of the desires I prefer and will tell anyone who asks. The only reason I keep the club a secret is for the benefit of those who pay and need their identities hidden. Like you. Though I see no reason to be ashamed of what you like behind closed, or not so closed, doors.”
Not wanting to get into some big philosophical debate about whether she should be ashamed of her desires, Lydia simply smiled and changed the subject. “So what exactly are we in for tonight?”
She had to admit she was curious what these new rooms could be that might be crossing a line. Nothing illegal could happen in the establishment because Stephan didn’t want the police to ever have a reason for visiting the club in a professional capacity. BDSM, forced edging, group sex, gang bangs, bondage, latex fetishes—the list of rooms that he already offered on a rotating basis was endless. What could he possibly bring to Zion that would be all that new and unexpected?
The elevator reached the first subbasement floor and slid open to the normal crowd milling about the place. Zion was exclusive enough that members began to see the same faces over and over again, and though they might not know real names or details, faces became familiar. Two gentlemen across the room raised their glasses to Lydia as she passed by, and she recognized them as the men who had participated in her last play session. She smiled at them and waved in return.
It felt strange walking through the main floor dressed as she was. Normally, she would come dressed to the nines in a silk floor-length chemise that would leave little to the imagination. She wouldn’t be wearing panties or a bra. But tonight she had decided to go a little more relaxed, especially since she had no intention of participating. She wore skintight jeans that she had practically poured herself into earlier that night, and a backless, sequined top that was sexy but in no way said she was there for a good time. As always, she had added white-blonde, purple, and pink extensions to her already long hair to disguise her signature honey blonde. Her makeup was done to accentuate features she normally wouldn’t, making her nose and chin more prominent instead of her cheeks and eyes. Popping in contacts that made her eyes a brilliant purple instead of one blue and one green rounded out her persona. It was these simple things that made her feel less herself while in Zion and made her more secure in her ability to not be placed.
Stephan led her down the hallway to the rooms where scenes were usually played out. These were the same spaces Lydia would reserve when in need of her special kink. They came to a stop in front of the very same room she had been in the last time she visited Zion, the time she first met Damian, and she suddenly knew she had been set up.
