She smiled, a reminiscent gleam in her eyes as she gazed at Drakos. “Good evening, Mr. Creed. It’s a pleasure to have you back, Sir.”
“Hello, Natalia.”
“Your partners and their companions are already in the Atrium waiting for you. I’m sure you remember the rules, and have informed your companion.” She glanced at me, and her smile went a little flat. The woman had a slight Slavic accent, but I couldn’t place it. She also had a history with Drakos.
I gave her the same vapid smile back. “I’m Sylvie Spade, and he explained the rules.”
Her eyes went wide. “Oh! Are you related to–?” She abruptly cut herself off, as if remembering their strict Confidentiality Clause. I’d signed and emailed one back earlier this afternoon while Drakos grudgingly made last-minute plans to get us in.
When I’d told him I wanted to come here for my bachelorette party as he started to lay me across the top of his classic Corvette, he’d stilled and eased back.
“You want to have your party… where?” he’d growled.
“The Emporium. Luna and I are curious to see what the fuss is about.”
“You’re going to be an unpredictable, aggravating wife at times, aren’t you?”
I’d patted his butt and rolled my hips against him. “You bet your ass I am.” He’d sworn, flipped me over, and pushed my torso into his car, then ripped down my pants, and entered me with a hard thrust. My hips were still a little tender from being shoved against the hood over and over as he’d hammered into me. I shivered as I remembered.
The shimmery gold halter dress Aida, Luna’s personal shopper friend, found for me bared my back down to my ass crack and showed a good bit of leg with a deep slit. When Drakos saw me in it for the first time, he’d backed me up against the bathroom door. “You look like a debauched angel, and I plan to see that lipstick you’re wearing on the base of my cock before this godforsaken night ends.”
Looking at the gorgeous woman in front of us now, I was fiercely glad Aida helped us find last-minute outfits.
“I’m related to all of the Spades around here, but don’t hold it against me.”
Natalia cleared her throat. “Have a wonderful evening. I’m sure it’ll be memorable.” Before I could ask her what she meant, she gazed up at Drakos. “Let me know if I can assist you. In any way possible.” Her meaning was clear, and I suddenly wondered if coming here had been a good idea.
She gracefully stepped aside and swept her hand toward the large, opulent staircase covered in red carpet leading up to the second story. “The stairway to heaven,” she murmured.
Turning to Drakos, I mimicked Natalia’s sweeping hand gesture. “Or the stairway to Hell. Lead the way, Beelzebub. This is your domain, after all.”
He took my hand. “We’ll go together, because ‘Hell is empty, and the devils are all here.’”
My pussy clenched as he smirked wickedly and quoted Shakespeare at me. We walked up the stairs and into an enormous, sumptuously appointed Atrium with soft, priceless rugs and plush couches arranged into numerous smaller conversation areas. My eyes darted around as I took in the well-dressed men and women sipping on exquisite-looking cocktails. Most women wore couture gowns and clothes, many with harnesses, straps, bustiers, or garters. At least half the women—and some men—sported chokers and collars. My gold dress seemed to glow in a sea of black.
A group of older, distinguished-looking men stood at the long mahogany bar, where hundreds of backlit liquor bottles gleamed on the wall behind it. They turned as Drakos and I approached the bar, and one of them detached himself. The middle-aged man had a prominent nose and thick eyebrows, and he regarded me with a sensual gleam in his eye.
“Drakos, good to see you. It’s been a long time. Are you planning to do a scene or participate in a demonstration?”
The bartender came over, and I ordered an apple martini and Drakos a whiskey neat, then he turned to the man. “Hello, Dev. No, we’re meeting some friends. This is my fiancée, Sylvie Spade.”
Dev turned back to me, his gaze sharper. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Are you related to Ezra and his grandsons?”
I smiled. “Yes, and I work with my grandfather at the Palm Desert Oasis. I’m the mortician there.”
Dev blinked in obvious surprise. “I’ve never met a mortician. Do you enjoy your work?”
“I do. There’s a lot of science behind it, and I like helping the families.”
He grinned. “You have beautyanda brain. That’s an improvement for Drakos.”
“Thank you?” I had no idea how to respond to his comment.
Our drinks arrived, and we excused ourselves. Lust and anticipation hung in the air, along with the heavy scent of expensive perfumes and colognes. The walls were painted a rich, deep plum, enhancing the lavish feel of the room, while the skylights gleamed faintly above us.
On the first stage we came to, a woman stood wearing nothing more than delicate chains draped from the shiny metal collar at her neck. Her hands were suspended and tied to an ornate trapeze bar hanging from the high ceiling. I looked down and noticed her ankles attached to a spreader bar.
From her half-lidded eyes and the way she held her body, I could tell she wanted whatever the handsome, lean man with brown hair, graying at his temples, planned to give her. He stood at her back, whispering in her ear and caressing the undersides of her breasts with his thumbs. Then he pulled a blood-red mask out of his pocket and carefully covered her eyes. By the cut of his clothes and the sleek Patek Phillipe watch at his wrist, I knew the man was loaded.