‘Yes, sir.’ He smirks as the glass doors glide open. ‘Welcome to Reveal.’
29
AOIFE
My heart hammers as we step into a lift. Dom’s eyes lock on mine and raw sexual need thrums between us like a live wire as we zip down into a secret underground lair.
‘You’re giving me that look again,’ he murmurs.
‘Which look?’
‘The one that screams that you’re desperate for me to kiss you.’
‘Maybe I am.’ I’m desperate for a lot of things right now.
‘Patience, princess.’ His palm glides lower to squeeze the globe of my ass cheek.
The doors part to display one word painted on the black marble in an elaborate silver italic font—Reveal.
‘I can’t believe this is Sean Beckett’s club,’ I whisper. ‘Do he and the princess come here?’
Dominic quirks an eyebrow.
‘No pun intended.’ I shake my head.
‘They do, but not so much now they’re all loved up. You’ll meet him, but not tonight.’ He ushers me along the dark marble corridor. There’s an opulent reception areamanned by four security guards and one very attractive hostess, all of whom greet my fiancé with the utmost of respect.
‘Mr Kincaid.’ The men nod as if he’s royalty.
‘Evening.’ He pulls me closer, wrapping an arm around my chest. ‘This is my fiancée, Aoife.’
The hostess’s eyes widen as they dart between Dom and I. ‘Congratulations.’
A door behind the opulent marble desk opens, and a stern-looking woman steps out. She has sharply bobbed red hair, the same shade as the frames of her designer glasses. ‘Dominic Fucking Kincaid.’ Her expression transforms into a full-blown grin. ‘Where the fuck have you been hiding?’
‘Between Aoife’s legs, mostly.’ He fires her a wink, then turns to me. ‘Aoife, this is Larissa; she runs the club.’
He looks to Larissa again, ‘Larissa, meet my fiancée, Aoife.’
‘You mad fucking bastard.’ She beams as she rushes towards us, squishing us into a hug. ‘You always said when you met the right one you’d know.’
Ahh. So that’s what Mama K meant when she said we’re like two peas in a pod.
Worryingly, I’m beginning to think she was right.
‘I did, didn’t I?’ He disentangles us from her arms. ‘Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to introduce Aoife to our world.’
Larissa looks at me. ‘Nobody gets in without signing an NDA.’ Frown lines crease her forehead. ‘But given you’re engaged to the man who oversees the club’s security, I assume you’re aware what would happen if you were to breathe a word of what goes on in here to anyone.’
‘Larissa,’ Dom’s voice is weighted with warning.
‘Okay, okay.’ She raises her palms in surrender, and a smile returns to her face. ‘Welcome to the dark side. In yougo.’ She motions to another set of double doors. ‘The champagne is on me. Congratulations again.’
‘Thanks,’ Dom says, nudging me towards the entrance. He presses his thumb against a fingerprint recognition pad, and the doors slide open. ‘This is the main bar.’ He sweeps a hand around a massive, dome-shaped room. There’s an opulent oval shaped bar in the centre, stocked with wine, spirits, champagne, and Beckett’s Black Label, naturally. Plush, high, scarlet bar stools flank the obsidian marble-topped bar. Leather booths and benches are dotted throughout the entire room, several of which are occupied by couples. The men are in suits. The women are in BDSM gear or lingerie, sipping champagne. A crowd of eight men gather in one of the booths. Some wear masks, Venetian ones, the details ranging from sultry to downright scary.
Every single patron bows their head respectfully towards us.
I can’t work out if Dom’s some sort of king down here, or if he’s feared because of his reputation on the streets. Either way, it’s clear he commands everyone around him.
