“Enough to know which mechanisms Xavier keeps consistent year after year.”
We reach another pressure plate, and I motion for Dominic to stop. “Step only where I step. The wrong plate will trigger the wrong wall.”
I carefully press my weight onto a specific tile, watching as another section of wall silently retracts.
“Three more shortcuts and we’ll reach the Red Room well before Ryder ever finds her,” I explain.
As we navigate the hidden corridors, I find myself hyper-aware of Dominic’s presence behind me. The passage narrows, forcing us closer together. I can practically feel the heat radiating from his body.
“You seem to know this place intimately,” Dominic observes.
I glance over my shoulder, catching his gaze in the dim light. “I make it my business to know the architecture of any situation I enter.”
“A control freak, then.” There’s amusement in his tone.
“Says the man who micromanaged every aspect of the Bayside Tower development,” I counter, remembering the news articles about his notorious attention to detail.
Dominic’s laugh is unexpected—a rich, genuine sound that vibrates through the narrow passageway. “Touché, counselor.”
We reach another junction, and I pause to press the correct pressure plate. As the wall slides open, Dominic steps too close, his chest brushing against my back. Neither of us moves to create distance.
“After you,” he says, his breath warm against my neck.
The corridor widens as we approach the Red Room. I’m relieved and oddly disappointed by the additional space between us.
The Red Room lives up to its name—dark crimson walls, black furnishings, and strategically placed lighting that creates both shadows and exposure. It’s designed for a very specific purpose.
As I run my fingers over the various restraints mounted to the walls, I consider our current dynamic. “We should discuss logistics before she arrives.”
Dominic examines a cabinet of implements, selecting a riding crop with meticulous care. “What’s to discuss? She’s the prey, we’re the hunters.”
“Three hunters, one prey.” I turn to face him. “That requires choreography, especially if we’re all going to have our turn simultaneously.”
His expression tightens almost imperceptibly. “You have a suggestion, counselor?”
I approach the oversized four-poster bed, mentally mapping positions. “She’ll be overwhelmed, that’s part of the point. But we need to be coordinated, not chaotic.” I gesture to the bed. “She could be on all fours, taking you from behind while servicing Ryder orally.”
“And where does that leave you?” Dominic asks, testing the crop against his palm.
“Beneath her.” I meet his gaze directly. “Or behind Ryder, depending on how things develop.”
Dominic’s jaw flexes. “Behind Ryder?”
“Don’t tell me the thought hasn’t crossed your mind,” I say, watching his reaction carefully. “The way Ryder looks at both of us suggests he’d be amenable to exploring beyond our shared interest in the mayor’s daughter.”
“I’m here for the girl,” Dominic states flatly, but his eyes linger on me a second too long.
“As am I,” I concede, adjusting the restraints on one bedpost. “But seventy-two hours is a long time with just one plaything, especially when there are other... possibilities in the room.”
Dominic selects several silk ties from a drawer. “You’ve participated in these arrangements before?”
“With men?” I raise an eyebrow. “Let’s just say I don’t limit my options based on arbitrary categories.”
He doesn’t respond, but the slight tension in his shoulders tells me he’s processing this information.
“Ryder won’t be so hesitant,” I add. “He practically undressed both of us with his eyes earlier. I know that he enjoys the company of men and women.”
Dominic approaches, silk ties dangling from his fingers. For a moment, we stand too close, the air between us charged.
