“Don’t.”
She smirks at how I almost panicked. “Then tell me what’s really going on.”
Embarrassment heats my cheeks. “I’d rather not.”
“If this is really about sex, then you know you have nothing to be shy about.”
“God, can you stop?” I definitely don’t want to talk about the sex I had at a kink club with a masked stranger, especially with Ursula, who is technically my stepdaughter.
“Leeva,” she warns. “I’m texting Hans to tell him to get the plane ready if you don’t tell me why you’re hiding out in your hotel room, whether it’s about sex or not.”
I groan. “Urs.”
“Leeva.” She levels me with her corporate queen’s icy stare, the one she uses when she’s negotiating multimillion-dollar business deals. “Tell me.”
She’s not going to let this drop, and I know her threat of coming here is valid. Keifer tried the gentler approach with me,and when that didn’t work, she stepped in with the hard-ass, take-no-shit approach.
Instead of answering her, I turn my camera to show the dress hanging on the closet door. I hear her intake of breath and bravely turn the camera back to me and face her over the video call.
A Cheshire cat grin curls her lips. “That is one verynaughtydress.” Heat flames my cheeks, and she eyes me. “Please tell me that dress is meant for someplace just as naughty.”
I want to curl up and die.
She just grins. “So…a sex club? Some underground adult playground?”
“Can you please stop?” I groan.
“Well, I’ll be damned.” She laughs. “You’re a kinky little sex kitten underneath all that innocence, aren’t you?”
“I am not,” I say, entirely too defensively.
She holds up her perfectly manicured hands. “You get no judgment from me. Do you recall that I have three boyfriends?”
These aren’t three separate men she’s stringing along or seeing on the sly; they’re in a loving and committed polyamorous relationship.
“Now, tell me more about that very naughty, sexy as hell dress, because I’m not letting this go,” she warns.
Taking a deep breath, I admit, “I’m hiding out in my hotel suite so I don’t wear that dress and go back to that club.”
“Go back to that club?” She arches a brow. “Meaning you’ve been there already.” Her blue eyes narrow, then turn icy and hard. “Did something happen to you there?”
“No,” I reassure her. “The club carefully vets their members and has many safety protocols.”
She relaxes. “Not all clubs like this are, though, so I’m glad you picked a high-quality one.”
I don’t even want to know how she’s familiar with this knowledge, especially as I consider that Berlin is known for its kink-friendly club scene, and she and her boyfriends likely are frequent attenders.
“So why are you hiding out in the hotel room instead of going back?”
“I’m hiding out in my hotel room so Idon’tgo back,” I clarify.
She frowns. “Why?”
“Because the man… We wore masks…” My cheeks heat, not believing that I’m telling her this. “He doesn’t know who I am, and I don’t know who he is.”
“And?” she prods when I pause, frowning. “Hidden identities aren’t a big deal; to some, it’s part of the kink to bang someone you have no—”
“Stop,” I groan, my whole face and chest flushing with the heat of my embarrassment.
