His laugh joined mine. "I know you did."
I settled back into my seat, the nervous flutter in my stomach slowly giving way to curiosity. Maybe even the first fragile stirrings of excitement.
"So we'd just... look around? Talk to people?"
"Exactly, no pressure. No agenda. We can leave whenever you want."
I turned the idea over in my mind, examining it from every angle the way I would a contract clause.
A club. A real BDSM club. With real people doing real... things.
"What if someone recognizes us?" The worry slipped out before I could stop it.
"They won't." His voice was certain. "The whole point of a place like this is discretion. Half the members are executives, politicians, public figures. People with far more to lose than we do." He reached over, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "Trust me. No one there is interested in exposing anyone else. Mutually assured destruction keeps everyone honest."
I snorted. "That's romantic."
"I'm a realist."
Neither of us spoke. The city slid past the windows, familiar blocks giving way to streets strung with pub lights and late-night noise I could feel even through the glass. The leather seat creaked as I shifted, suddenly aware of my own heartbeat.
"What's it called?" I asked finally.
"Veil."
The name suited it somehow. Hidden. Obscured. A layer between the world we showed everyone else and the one we kept for ourselves.
My fingers drummed against my thigh. "And you've been there before. Recently?"
"Not since before I met you. I haven't wanted anyone else, Emma. Not since that first message."
"Okay," I heard myself say, voice steady now.
He glanced over. "Okay?"
"Take me to Veil." I squeezed his hand on my thigh, a smile tugging at my lips despite the butterflies swarming my stomach. "Show me your world."
His answering grin made the butterflies worse.
"Yes, ma'am."
Chapter twenty
Emma
The neighborhood changed—sleek high-rises giving way to squat brick warehouses, graffiti crawling up concrete walls, streetlights fewer and farther between. I sat up straighter, peering through the windshield at the shadowed buildings.
"Damien." I kept my voice casual, but my hand had found the door handle. "Is there... crime here?"
He laughed—actually laughed—easy and unbothered. "No, love. There's security at every entrance. Parking attendants. Cameras. The whole nine yards." He pulled down a narrow side street, headlights sweeping over a surprisingly full lot of luxury vehicles. "You think I'd bring my car here if it could get stolen? Do you have any idea how much this thing cost?"
I rolled my eyes. "Your priorities are inspiring."
"I'm a man of refined tastes. That includes both my car and my woman. Neither of which I intend to lose tonight."
Before I could respond, he pulled to a stop beneath a black awning. The building looked unremarkable—weathered brick, no signage, nothing to indicate what waited inside. Just a single door flanked by two men in tailored suits.
One of them stepped forward as Damien rolled down his window.
