So much for an introduction. There’s nothing in his deep but cold voice that gives me any sense of comfort as I turn halfway so he can get a look at my ass. All I can do is stare at the wall and will my knees to stop shaking.
“You’ll do. Turn.” I do as I’m told, glad I passed muster yet at the same time afraid of what that means. I can’t imagine what I’ll have to do to satisfy my debt, but ten grand is a lot of money, and something tells me he’s going to make me work for it.
He picks up his glass, swirling the liquor around, studying me. “Your name is Rowan, right?”
“Yes.”
“And you’re twenty years old?” I nod my head as he lifts the tumbler to his lips, watching me the entire time he does it. I’m afraid that if I don’t watch him with the same intensity, he may take me as weak. “You don’t say much, do you?”
“I don’t know what to say.”
This seems to please him. He lowers the tumbler, nodding. “That’s good. I can’t stand people who ask too many questions. Do you know anything about this club?
“I know enough.” Thanks to my ex, who brought me here for a threesome, and to my best friend, Eve, who had a pleasant encounter here with her stepbrother. “I’ve been upstairs before,” I admit, “and so have my friends. But I don’t know much about what’s going on downstairs.”
“We keep it that way for a reason.” He folds his hands over his flat stomach, and I catch sight of a flashy watch peeking out from under his shirt cuff. I could probably pawn that watch and pay off my debt with money to spare. “Welcome to Purgatory. This is an exclusive club. We’re very careful with our clientele. The fact that you’re considered worthy of working here for the night speaks highly of you.”
Am I supposed to be flattered? I’m not sure, though a part of me is glad I met with his approval.
“We are discreet, of course,” he continues. “Nothing that goes on within these walls goes beyond these walls. You understand that?”
“I do.”
“Good.” He suddenly stands, crossing the room with long, slow strides and stopping in front of a bar cart loaded with bottles, tumblers, and an ice bucket. Since he already has a drink of his own, I guess this one’s for me.
“You’re on the second floor currently, and this is the level we refer to as Heaven. There are rooms set up throughout the floor where clients can engage in whatever kink they enjoy. We have strict rules when it comes to consent and a zero-tolerance policy for guests—men or women—who can’t take no for an answer.”
He turns his head slightly, catching me out of the corner of his eye. “Tonight, you’ll be working in Hell. That’s what we call the basement level. The main level, where you walked in, is more of a social area. That’s where our guests relax and enjoy a few drinks before going either upstairs or down.”
I’m afraid to ask but do so anyway. “And what happens in Hell?”
He stops, holding an ice cube in a pair of tongs, the ice hovering over the glass for one little moment before he drops it with aclink. “Hell is reserved for our most formidable guests.”
That’s not exactly an answer, though something tells me I shouldn’t press him for more information. He did say he doesn’t like it when people ask questions, right?
“You’re not thinking about backing out now, are you?” He turns to me, and I can’t help but notice his trim body—tall, broad-shouldered, slim-hipped. He’s wearing a white dress shirt, partly unbuttoned, tucked into dark gray slacks that stretch over his thick thighs. For half a fraction of a second, I wonder what he looks like beneath his clothes. Are his abs chiseled? “You do remember you signed a contract?”
Yes, and Alexei didn’t give me a lot of time to look it over before forcing my signature. It was bad enough he’d barged into my apartment before I could even open the door all the way. I wasn’t about to say no. “I’m not backing out. Just curious.”
“I’m sure it’s nothing you can’t handle. Besides, how else would you be able to pay off such a huge debt in one night?” He laughs, lifting an eyebrow. “Unless you’d rather pay it off in one of my other establishments. We aren’t as… discerning when it comes to the clientele, but plenty of girls are there who can show you the ropes.”
He’s talking about a brothel or something like that. So either I can slowly work off my debt and basically be an indentured servant, or I can get it all over with in one night.
What’s the worst that could go on down there, anyway? They couldn’t let guys torture girls, could they? Cause serious harm, the sort of stuff that means a trip to the hospital or a lawsuit? Think about the liability this seemingly professional guy would bring down on himself if he let that happen.
Besides, I would’ve heard more than whispered rumors about the club if things got really bad around here. That’s not the sort of thing you can get people to shut up about. If a girl got seriously hurt, she’d tell somebody, right? Doubt spurts in mygut, but I squash it before it can develop further. I have to do this. I have no other option.
I realize he’s waiting for me to answer, watching me, standing perfectly still. I’d better say something. “No, this is fine.”
“I thought so.” He picks up the fresh drink, but instead of handing it to me, he sets it on the edge of his desk. Perching on one corner, he folds his arms, looking me up and down again. His face is perfect, to the point where I wonder if he was born with it. He’s obviously got the money for it.
But no. The more I look at it, the easier it is to spot the tiny imperfections. A slight tilt to the otherwise straight nose. A faint scar on his square jaw, barely covered by black scruff. Tiny lines at the corners of his eyes. How old is he? Early forties, maybe, though it doesn’t show as much on his face as it does in his entire manner. The way he talks, the commanding energy rolling off him.
If there’s one thing I learned to pick up on, it’s energy. Reading a man, so I’ll know whether his silence is just the calm before the storm.
“As per the terms of your contract, you understand that we don’t use safe words in Hell. Once you go down there, there’s no leaving until the guest is satisfied. Remember that. The satisfaction of my guests is always the highest priority. Tell me you understand that.”
“I do. I understand.” Still, I can’t help myself. “So there’s no way to get them to stop?”
