“That she is,” Maddox sings, the pride in his declaration unmistakable.
And Axel’s sapphire gaze hitches to mine. “Welcome to the family, Tessa.”
I misread everything they were saying. The same qualities my family has always despised seem to be the very ones they embrace.
So much has changed since I first pleaded for a La Lune Noire position, and yet nothing has.
I told them I belonged all those years ago, and now that I have every reason to refute it, they’re telling me I was right.
TESSA
Maddox hauls me through the penthouse, still thrown over his shoulder, which I realize is less about me digging my heels in and more about not wanting his family to derail whatever mission he’s on.
“Are you finally taking me to my suite?” I ask to his backside as we step into the elevator.
“Nope.” He sets me on my feet, but doesn’t elaborate. His curt response is infuriating, even as he sweeps his hand up and down my spine.
I’m starting to wonder if he isn’t going to give me my own space. And I need it. I need to sort through everything. His brothers calling me a Noire queen takes Maddox’s declarations in the heat of passion up a notch or even those after my migraine. This felt bigger. He must’ve told them to claim me. That’s why they interrogated me. They wanted to see if I’d be loyal to him. I know enough from our members that a gesture like this is a no-turning-back scenario.
My mind is at war with how to process that. Part of me wants to push back because I wasn’t given a choice. And my lifeis spinning out of control. But the other part is swooning. I’m usually the one people fight against, not for.
As if he senses my internal battle, he stacks the swooning argument by seizing my lips, his fingertips skimming along my jaw until they’re holding my neck, keeping me where he wants me. Goose bumps flame from every pore. I don’t fight him for dominance, like I have so many times. I let his tongue command mine, his mammoth limbs engulf me, and his celebratory-sin fragrance become the scent of days that don’t feel real, but still feel like mine.
Before I know it, I’ve completely missed our trek through the lobby. He guides me down the stairwell to Magie Noire. I’ve never been there. Employees who don’t work there aren’t permitted inside. There are back ways into the sex club, secret passageways. Mercy told me about one she and Ryker take. I’d prefer that.
I stop before we reach the entrance, my heart pounding against my sternum and blood flow rushing against my eardrums, completely drowning out the jazz music piped through the speakers. “Why this way?”
He chuckles. “See? Always digging your heels in.”
I release a sigh as he trudges forward, yanking on his hand to fulfill his view of me being stubborn, but I’m not sure I’m ready for this. “Can’t we enter through a back way?”
“No.” His smoldering grays rake over me, like fleece in summertime. Too hot and too soft at once. “We’re going to my private room, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
My mind hadn’t drifted to that concern yet, but it’s valid. How many women has he entertained in here? I can’t go there. We both have our pasts. I was no angel. Still, it’s out there now.
I shake my head, struggling to find my words.
“So, it’s the worry of being seen,” he correctly discerns. “I’m taking you through the club because it’s imperative that everyone knows we’re together.”
“Oh.” My shoulders fall slightly with relief. I’m still not thrilled about it, but I guess we’ll be taking a lot of precautions. “This is for protection?”
“No. That’s a benefit.” He readjusts our threaded fingers, dusting his thumb over my skin. “We’re going to walk through there, hand in hand, because I want the whole world to know you’re mine, Tess. Magie Noire is a good place to get the ball rolling.”
I’m not sure how to argue with that. It’s another brick in the swoony pile, so I simply say, “Okay.”
We enter swiftly after Maddox scans his thumb, strolling past employees who subtly side-eye us and members who ignore me, but nod at Maddox with reverence. That’s when it smacks me in the face. This is our first public appearance. And it’s at the sex club he owns. It’s safe to say I’ve obliterated any delusions my mother had about my life.
Despite what her narrow-minded vision would be, it’s upscale. Classy. We make our way through a gathering area that isn’t very crowded. It’s designed like a ritzy nightclub. Elegant chandeliers and top-shelf liquor. Velvet and leather and scandalous history. The lighting is dim. You could lose track of time here, get sucked in and stay for days. Forget which era you’re from. The clandestine Prohibition vibe that the whole resort thrives on reigns here. Secrets written in the molding. Invitation only. Coded entry.
Exclusivity is a drug. Everyone wants to be chosen.
Men wear tailored suits, arrogance, and cloak-and-dagger intrigue. Women are clad in cocktail dresses and lust. Feathers and lace and pearls. I’m sorely underdressed. It highlights how much better I belong as an employee.
When we reach a hallway with a sign that readsPrivate, Owners’ Wing, nerves prickle my skin. It’s all starting to feel so real.
Maddox scans his retina and ushers me into his room. A whiff of salt and sea floods my senses, as if it were an oceanside resort. Other than his whimsically wicked fragrance, that’s my favorite scent.
The space is more elegant than I would’ve expected. Less like a seedy dungeon, more like a luxurious pleasure den. Everything is plush. Regal. Black and purple, like his bedroom. A huge king-size bed with pillars. Toys on the walls. A sex swing. One of those cross things.
