Page 10 of Chandelier Enthralled
In the cigar room, fifty or so tuxedo-clad figures gathered, their sleek silhouettes cutting through the haze of smoke. Their eyes, sharp and calculating, sweeping the room in search of their conquest, be it for business or pleasure.
Taking in the scene, I felt reassured that the vetted submissives remained, the women who deserved their own corner of Pendulum for their safe play. Some wore bodices, others preferred the elegance of gowns, a sensual display of feminine power and grace.
We were improving this place one rule at a time.
I left the room and continued to search, but with so many masked men and women, finding Amelia was like the proverbial needle.
In the heart of opulence, the scent of aged oak mingled with the tang of fine whiskey. Beneath the veneer of power lay a darker truth, a sensuality that simmered with all its addictive splendor.
Outside the great hall, scantily clad women prepared to enter, headdresses like exotic birds, their eyes filled with desire. Some playful, others more serious, eager for what lay on the other side of that door.
The chamber was guarded by a tuxedo-wearing bouncer who doubled as a Dom. Some rooms were more difficult to access, creating a sense of exclusivity that made people crave entry.
I let out a sigh of frustration. Amelia had stained this place with her betrayal. Everywhere I looked reminded me of my time with her.
Love obliterates. Decimates. True love is a lie.
I hoped Amelia hadn’t ventured up to the sixth floor. Having seen another side to her, I knew just how reckless she could be.
Seconds after entering the great hall, a waiter buzzed by, and I accepted the tumbler of bourbon. With eyes on the crowd, I took my first sip. It hit with a smooth sweetness, followed by a burn that lingered like toasted oak.
Leaving now would save my soul but break my heart.
Because I saw her.
There, amongst the kaleidoscope of shadows and neon, knelt Amelia. Head tilted as if listening to some secret in the music, her blue hair in a perfect bob, red lips curved in a faint, knowing smile.
She didn’t see me.
My throat felt tight, the bourbon not helping, as regret dripped from my soul.
Pendulum had always been her obsession.
It was never me she’d cared about—it was only this place.
Standing in the shadows, I endured the cruel torture of watching her.
I wanted to go back in time and pretend the fun we had shared, though brief, was real. There had been something about the way she’d lit up a room when she came out of her shell. Her look of gratitude for what I’d given her.
Had she always been working for Jewel?
My mind couldn’t fathom how a person could be so cruel. I questioned if what I’d seen was real and if the decisions I subsequently made were a mistake.
All my reasoning defied logic.
And there I was again, making excuses for her as though I could save us both. Walking in front of a flamethrower—craving my own obliteration.
All for her. The girl with the blue hair.
On her ring finger was the orange diamond given to her by Eve, Atticus’ girlfriend. Amelia wore it like a trophy, though I guessed most people would assume it was fake. The bribe had convinced her to reveal where the submissives had been hidden. She’d been willing to sell them out for a piece of jewelry.
Had she assumed I wouldn’t come back to Pendulum by myself?
She’d never known me at all.
Three Doms approached Amelia, who had been waiting patiently in the center of the room. They unzipped their tuxedo pants and presented themselves to her. The men caressed their shafts with swiftness, as though their self-control proved their worth.
This act was the showcase, and she was the main display.
