Page 88 of Chandelier Enthralled
“If I drop this, we’re both fucked.” I showed off the Bombay Sapphire’s golden label that any concierge should recognize. “It’s worth thousands.”
His brows raised with curiosity. Then he reached for it.
I pulled it back against my chest. “Mr. G requested I personally present it to him.”
“Who invited you?”
“You’re out of the good stuff.”
“I need a name.”
“No names,” I said firmly. “You know that.”
A rush of adrenaline raced through me at the risk I was taking, and the thought I might pull it off. Seeing what Jewel Hadley got up to would give me the advantage. Discovering more about her would be a game changer. Getting answers about what might have happened to Dean Hersey would be even better.
“I’ll join the others,” I said.
“Coat,” he insisted.
Feeling vulnerable, and a little chilly, I slid out of the Burberry trench coat and handed it over. He disappeared behind a desk, into the coat room, I guessed, and then reappeared.
“I’ll escort you.” He gestured for me to follow as he walked away.
Hurrying after him, I recalled Cameron’s reaction to me returning to Pulse360. If he found out I’d infiltrated this sex club, he’d probably never let me leave the house again.
I needed to get my own place.
The size of the club was surprisingly misleading. Inside it was sprawling, and we seemed to walk for a long time down winding corridors. My intrigue increased with each door we passed, more questions arising about what this place could be and who visited here and why.
We stopped halfway down a corridor.
My heart skipped as he opened a door for me.
I entered and paused to get my bearings as the door closed behind me.
Doing my best to hide my nervousness, I felt a sense of relief that my face was hidden behind the intricately designed mask.
Inside, it reminded me of a gentlemen’s club, with leather chairs, dark wood furniture, and hardbacked books stacked neatly on high shelves that reached the ceiling. It gave off an old boys’ club vibe. Around fifty men in black tuxedos stood or sat around the perimeter, their attention fixed on the center of the room.
I moved left, angling for a better view.
Then I saw her, a brunette standing in the middle of the group. She was completely naked and holding a black apple. She took small bites out of it, eating it slowly, the juices trickling down her lower lip and her chin and onto her breasts. The room remained silent, with everyone fascinated by the scene.
Stunned, my body reacted to her sensuality. I had walked in on something forbidden. Something erotic and daring and mind-blowing in every way.
What did they call this place?
This club was a mystery that continued to unravel before me.
I found the drinks table and set the bottle down. Hands trembling, I opened it and filled several glass tumblers. Using a pair of silver prongs, I added some ice and then placed the tumblers onto a tray.
I didn’t pick it up, though—just in case I had to bolt.
Glancing toward the center of the room again, I watched the young woman devouring the black apple.
One of the masked guests looked at me. “Have you seen that before?”
I shook my head, not wanting to engage in conversation.
