Page 36 of Take Me Darkly

“Name it.”

“The Obsidian Suite,” I commanded. “Lock it down from eight PM though the remainder of the night. I want a vintage bottle of Dom Pérignon 2008, a bottle of Cristal 2013, and my private reserve cognac set out. Have Matteo’s restaurant prepare his private twelve-course tasting menu and deliver it directly to the suite. I want a date night, Myla. Even if we can’t leave the perimeter of this building.”

Myla pulled out her tablet, her fingers flying over the screen. “The Obsidian Suite is currently booked by a tier-one corporate member for ten PM.”

“Bump them,” I snapped without hesitation. “Comp them a complimentary weekend package in the suite anytime next month. I also want the entire private corridor cleared from the apartment elevator to the Obsidian Suite doors. No staff, no members, no interruptions. Absolute privacy.”

“Understood,” Myla said, making the notations. “Lingerie options for Serena?”

My eyes darkened, the raw, primal hunger that constantly simmered beneath my skin surging to the surface. “Have a curated wardrobe selection sent to the apartment by five PM. Silk, lace, sheer embroidery. Deep jewel tones—black, crimson, royal purple. Make sure the cuts are elegant.”

“I’ll personally oversee the delivery,” Myla assured me. “Anything else for the suite? Lighting? Audio?”

“Candles only. Enable the private Bluetooth network—I’ll set the soundtrack myself.”

“Done.” Myla said. She turned toward the heavy oak door, then paused, her hand resting on the brass handle. She looked back at me, her eyes softening with a rare, genuine affection. “Anton?”

“What?”

“I like Serena. Don’t…don’t break her.”

I didn’t answer.

Myla slipped out, closing the door behind her with a soft click.

I walked over to the window, looking down at the private valet court below. Sleek, dark luxury sedans were beginning to pull up as Manhattan’s elite arrived for the early evening hours. The familiar, rhythmic pulse of the club was awakening beneath my feet, the energy shifting toward dark desire and uninhibited indulgence.

Tonight, I was going to teach my beautiful, fierce princess what true surrender felt like.

Not the frantic, grief-fueled oblivion, but something infinitely deeper. A worship of her body and soul that would burn away every doubt lingering in her mind. I was going to strip away her defenses, lay her bare beneath the candlelight, and remind her body what her mind was trying to resist.

The dark anticipation coiling in my chest was a living, breathing predator—equal parts ravenous hunger and possessiveness.

I needed to see her silk-draped skin.

Needed to hear her breathless, filthy pleas in my ear.

Needed to feel her tight, velvety heat clench around my shaft as I drove her over the edge again and again until she screamed my name.

I needed her to understand that she was mine, that I was irrevocably hers, and that together, we were an apex force that nothing on earth could ever destroy.

Chapter Twelve

Serena

* * *

I stared at the designer box sitting on the bed.

I’d been circling it for the past twenty minutes, pretending to organize the dresser that held what little clothing I owned. Three pairs of jeans. A handful of tops. Underwear that had seen better days. Everything else had burned in the fire, turned to ash along with every other piece of my old life.

Anton had brought the package in earlier, setting it down with an unreadable expression.

“Be ready by eight,” he’d said, his voice that low rumble that always made my pulse stutter. “We’re having dinner tonight. Just you and me.”

My heart had kicked up at the prospect. “Where?”

“The Obsidian Room—in the club.” He’d closed the distance between us, bringing his intoxicating scent of sandalwood and spice with him. “I want tonight to feel special, even if we can’t leave the building. You need a taste of normal.”