We move deeper into the space.A woman in a black slip dress walks by, her hand trailing along her companion’s arm.In one alcove, a couple sits close enough that they could be sharing secrets or kisses—it’s impossible to tell in the low light, and that’s the point.Somewhere in the shadows, fabric sighs in the dark; on the platform, the dancer’s back catches the amber light like poured honey.She’s stripped now, donned only in stilettos, and the man lifts her onto the swing dangling from the ceiling.
A pulse flutters at Brie’s throat now.I watch it, matching the tempo of the music.
“Adrien,” she says, and there’s something in her voice that makes my entire body tighten.
“Yes?”
“Why did you bring me here?”
I turn her to face me, my hand still at her hip.“Because I want you to understand what I’ve built.Not just the performance spaces and the Michelin stars.This too.The freedom to want without judgment.To explore without shame.”
Her eyes are dark in the amber light.“That’s not the only reason.”
“No,” I admit.“It’s not.”
The male performers’ back muscles flex, the woman’s back arches, their silhouette hypnotic.Around us, the energy of the room builds—subtle but unmistakable.A murmur of conversation from a nearby banquette.
The performers circle, twisting the swing, giving all a view—he’s unzipped, and she’s toying with him, a condom wrapper between her teeth.In the dim light, it’s lurid, more shadow than explicit detail, but the crowd watches, mesmerized, the energy palpable.
Some watch, while some turn to those at their side.The faintest moan, swallowed by the music.The charge of anticipation that fills any space where desire is acknowledged rather than hidden.
Brie’s transfixed to the stage, her breaths shallow.With a lick of her lips, her gaze cuts to me.“This isn’t keeping things professional.”
“My purpose is not professional.”I move closer, until there’s barely space between us.I coax the curve of her hip, wanting her flat against me.She’s seen all she needs to see.“I want to take you somewhere private.”
“One of your suites?”
I shake my head.“Too risky.Not until we resolve this situation with Eddie.But back to my home…” I let the words trail off, watching comprehension dawn in her eyes.
She presses against me.My lips find hers.I back her up to a wall, and we become one with the crowd, restrained but only just.Our bodies seemingly meld, hampered more by the constraints of clothes than the presence of others.
On the platform, the performer’s routine reaches its climax—noted by a climactic musical finale, a flash of lights, and graceful descent that concludes with a dark stage.Applause ripples through the room, intimate and appreciative.Two men and a woman approach the stage, ready to take the spotlight, and with three, the shadowed crowd’s expectations rise.
“I think,” Brie says slowly, her palm flattened on my chest, her breath rapid, “we should go.”
“To my place?”
“To your place.”Her fingers curl into my shirt.“Now.”
The urgency in her voice matches what I’m feeling.Whatever the performance downstairs awakened, this room has amplified.The air between us is charged with long-banked wanting, one night of tentative reconnection, and the raw acknowledgment of desire that this space demands.
I take her hand and lead her back toward the elevator.As we pass Tiffany in the hallway, she offers a discreet nod, professional enough not to comment on our obvious haste.
In the elevator, Brie doesn’t lean against the opposite wall as she might have earlier.She stays close, her shoulder against mine, her breathing audible in the small space.
“You’re quiet,” I observe.
“I’m thinking.”
“About?”
She turns to look at me, and the heat in her eyes nearly has me pressing the emergency button and taking her right here in the lift.“About how much I want you.About how unwise that is.About how I don’t particularly care right now.”
The elevator reaches the ground floor.My driver is waiting where I left him, and within moments we’re in the back of the car, the privacy screen already raised.
Brie’s hand finds mine in the darkness.“I meant what I said earlier.Tomorrow, we’re back to professional.”
“I know.”I lift her hand to my lips.“But tonight isn’t tomorrow.”
