Page 238 of Chandelier Sin
“You’re good at reading people. But that comes with the territory, I imagine.”
“Medical professionals have to gain rapport fast.”
“You dazzled in the High Chamber. It’s the only reason you’re still alive.”
“I aim to please.”
“We’re all curious as to what you told our Dominatrices to get them to enter a chamber that is by invite only.”
“I told them when I own Pendulum, I’d promote them and pay them well.”
“Ha!” He threw his head back with a bark of laughter. “You’re relentless.”
“Are you going to show me your collection?” I stared at him. “Because you know there’s only one man other than Jake Carrington who has the skills to utilize that kind of equipment. Or even appreciate that kind of craftsmanship.”
“You think highly of yourself.”
“I know my limits.”
“Which are?”
“I have none.” I leaned forward. “If we collaborate, we’ll attract the kind of clients you covet. The ones willing to pay for the entertainment Pendulum is destined to offer.”
“We offer quite an assortment already.”
“Not like this.” I rubbed the stubble on my chin. “Not the kind of imaginings I have conjured up.”
He looked thoughtful. “We could set up a similar chamber to what I have here.”
“I could be the circus master.”
Aemon stood up and the wooden chair legs scraped against tile,straining the atmosphere. “I’m eager to show you the gift a husband can bestow upon an unruly wife.”
“I’d be honored.” I arched a brow. “And honestly, I’m fucking hard, too.”
He glanced at my pants as I stood. “Well, then, we’re on the right track.”
Aemon gestured we were to head left.
Together, we strolled down a poorly lit hallway. Something told me this part of the house was reserved for darker pursuits.
And to think he had a child under this roof.
Disgusting bastard.
With a thin smile, I walked beside him, cool headed as we descended the stone steps that took us down another level.
Within a few minutes, Aemon had permitted me entry into his secret domain. A chamber reserved for sick fucks like him.
To like-minded men, this would be an impressive collection of ancient torture devices. It made what they had at Chrysalis look like amateur hour.
Some were covered in rust and old blood stains from what I could tell, as though they had been used recently.
I’d sensed the danger, the risk, but only now did my heart rate soar, sweat forming on my upper lip, which I had to surreptitiously swipe away.
Only one of us was getting out of here alive.
“From the seventeenth century,” said Roper, proudly. “These were used during the Spanish Inquisition.”
