Page 13 of Take Me Darkly

“And I did,” I whispered, meeting his dark, intense stare.

His gaze held mine, steady and possessing.

“I need that same trust now, princess. To keep you safe,” he said, his voice dropping into that quiet, commanding register that made my knees weak. “But our communication needs to evolve. These wristbands are for the club. We need our own system—not for play, but for your emotional limits. You’ve been through hell, and I know I tend to be overbearing.”

“A little?” I teased softly, desperate to break the rising sexual tension before it consumed me entirely.

The corner of his mouth twitched. “If things become too heavy—if I push too hard—you shouldn’t have to fight me. I want to reset the clock for every time I crossed a line without your consent. All you have to do is say one word, and I will instantly step back. You choose the word, and I will honor it without question.”

A faint smile touched my lips. “Like a safeword.”

“Exactly like that.”

I studied his face, seeing the fierce, unyielding sincerity behind his dark eyes. The intensity in his expression made my chest feel too tight. I looked down at the illuminated glass floor beneath our feet, contemplating the word.

“Denaro,” I finally said, looking back up.

Anton’s eyes narrowed slightly as his gaze traced the line of my throat. “Why denaro?”

“It’s Italian for money,” I explained quietly. “It’s the reason our paths crossed. I needed your funding for my dig. You were chasing a coin—a denarius. It’s the origin of us.”

“Denaro,” he repeated, testing the weight of the word on his tongue. His jaw flexed. “It’s a powerful choice. Unmistakable. And a reminder of how this started. Though a part of me wonders if money and greed are the very reasons someone targeted you... why your mother was taken.”

A sudden, sharp pang of grief struck my chest, catching in my throat.

“Denaro it is,” I whispered.

Anton nodded, satisfied, then cupped my elbow to lead me down a wide stone staircase toward the lower floor. By the time my feet hit the bottom step, my shoulder was burning with a deep, throbbing ache. I winced, the physical toll of the last hour finally catching up with me.

Anton caught the subtle shift in my posture instantly. “Are you alright?”

“It’s just aching,” I admitted, exhaling slowly. “But I’m okay to continue for a little longer.”

His palm settled gently against the small of my back, guiding me along the edge of the central space. I looked up at the elevated walkway we had just left, realizing the smoked glass was far more transparent from below.

“Do people actually perform up there?” I asked.

“All the time. For the crowd, or just for themselves.” A dangerous, slow smile touched his lips. “Or for the person standing right where you are, looking up.”

A vivid image flashed in my mind—a woman standing on that glass floor, looking down at Anton, stripping away her clothes for his eyes only. A sudden, vicious surge of possessiveness clawed through my gut, taking my breath away. It shocked me to my core. I turned my head before he could read the green-eyed monster on my face.

We passed an open suite on our right. Inside, a man in dark trousers was meticulously binding a woman’s wrists with soft red silk rope. As we walked by, the woman met my gaze and offered a slow, knowing smile. There was no shame in her eyes, only an invitation to understand. My instinct was to look away, but I held her stare.

Curiosity isn’t a sin, her eyes seemed to say.

I looked back at Anton. The current between us was almost visible now—thick, charged, and utterly inescapable. The ambient sounds of the club faded until it was just the two of us, suspended in the dark space between the sacred and the profane.

“I think I finally understand why you built this place,” I said, my voice remarkably steady. “It’s about control.”

“And surrender,” he corrected softly. “In the end, they are two sides of the same coin.”

His words curled around me like smoke, finding every open crevice to invade.

Could I surrender to a man like Anton Romano?

It wasn’t just about giving in to physical desire. It was about trusting him with my grief, my safety, my life.

“I just...” I swallowed hard, admitting the unconditional truth. “I just want to feel safe again.”