Page 6 of Sexting my Bratva Daddies

Two hours later, I’d showered and dressed and taken way too much time trying to get the perfect sultry look going with my makeup without going overboard. It would probably be dark in the club, anyway.

Finally, after checking my dress a dozen times and putting on a pair of underwear despite Elena’s orders, I drove to the club.

A valet took my keys. “Have a wonderful night, Miss.” He handed me a ticket for my car and drove away.

I used putting the ticket in my clutch as an excuse to linger outside a few more seconds. This was not the kind of club with neon signs of dancing women out front.

From the outside, it resembled a hotel more than a club. Brick walls had been painted white, and the few windows along the front had the same blacked-out look of Viktor’s office. No amount of light or peeking would give anyone outside a view inside.

A man stood beside the door. He wore a crisp black suit and an earpiece tucked into his left ear.

He watched me, but it had a politeness to it, and he dipped his head when I took a deep breath and stepped forward. “First time at Duplicity?”

“That obvious?” My voice came out squeaky.

“It is the place to be, Miss. You will not regret it.” He grasped the doorhandle. “May I see your invitation?”

Oh. Right. I flipped my phone screen around to show him the QR code I’d received a few hours ago. I’d never heard of using QR codes in this way, but whatever.

He used his phone to scan mine. It beeped, and he pulled the door open. “Enjoy your stay.”

Yep, feeling more like a hotel than ever.

I stepped through and gaped, my feet moving forward with a will of their own.

A man stepped out from behind a desk. “Good afternoon, Miss. May I see your code?”

I showed him my phone as well, my gaze jumping around the room, trying to take it all in at the same time. Upscale didn’t even begin to cover this.

Thick leather benches with individual tables stretched to my left. The whole room smelled like cedar and some kind of flower. The smell dropped my shoulders as people settled onto the leather benches.

There were no rowdy groups, no one leaning too far into anyone’s space. Couples, mostly, and a few small clusters of people who spoke in low tones. No one looked at me, which was slightly unnerving.

A bar ran the length of the wall in front of me, a bright display of bottles and glasses catching the low light from chandeliers and casting it around the room in glittering sparkles.

“Would you like an escort to your room?”

The question brought me back. “Room?”

“Yes, Miss. Your code is to a VIP room upstairs.” He tipped his head toward a set of stairs covered in deep blue carpeting.

Gold banisters snaked up in a spiral that arched to the right, and a velvet rope and yet another man in a black suit stood at the foot.

Quiet music drifted, along with clinking glassware and conversations. No raucous laughter or drunken displays.

I took a deep, cleansing breath and remembered Elena’s instructions. “No, thank you. I’ll find my own way.” Act like you belong. I lifted my chin and approached the velvet rope.

The man standing there gave me a quick look from head to toe. “Good afternoon, Miss.”

I showed him my phone before he had a chance to ask. Like all the others, he scanned it, then moved the rope and stepped back. “Room Eleven.”

Every step up brought a giddiness into my body. I gripped the gold banister, enjoying the feel of the cold metal.

Room eleven.

God, I couldn’t wait.

By the time I reached the top, I couldn’t tell if I was nauseous from my own audacity or elated at the possibilities in front of me.