Page 7 of Obsidian Devotion

I hear a soft knock at my door. Right on time.

"Come in."

Sofia walks in wearing just a silk blouse and jeans, her red hair let down and in waves.

"You wanted to see me?" Her voice has that slight Italian lilt that makes me wonder which region her family came from. If that's even her real heritage.

"Sit." I gesture to the chair across from me.

"Drink?"

"No, thank you."

I raise an eyebrow. "Bartender, who doesn't drink?"

"I prefer to keep my head clear." A hint of a smile plays at her lips. "Especially around men who ask as many questions as you do."

I laugh despite myself. "Fair enough." I close her file. "Isabella says you're the best she's ever had."

"I'm good at what I do."

"Which is what, exactly? Because I'm thinking it's not just mixing drinks."

Her expression doesn't change, but something flickers in her eyes. "I handle difficult situations. I read people. I make sure everyone gets what they need without creating problems."

"Like our Russian friend that night."

"Exactly like that."

I stand, moving around the desk. "Walk with me. I want to show you something."

The lower level of Peccato Noir throbs with bass and red light. Different private rooms, each accessible by private elevator, to avoid any leaks about their patronizing the place, line the hallway.

I watch Sofia carefully as we walk through, noting how she observes everything.

"Not what they have at Club inferno," I say.

"Different clientele, different needs." Her eyes track a dancer getting into one elevator that is clearly off limits. "Though the power dynamics remain the same."

"Explain."

She turns those blue eyes to me. "Everyone wants something they can't admit to wanting. The more rich and powerful the person, the darker those desires are."

"Cynical view."

"Realistic one." She stops, facing me fully. "Why am I here, Lorenzo? I doubt it's for philosophical debates about human nature."

Direct. I like that.

"As you must know, this is a new establishment, and it's different from the usual clubs. This is more exclusive for peoplewith more deviant sexual tastes. So, I need someone who can... manage delicate situations. Someone who understands discretion and control."

"And Isabella recommended me," Sofia comments.

"No. Isabella would never willingly give you up." I step closer. "I'm poaching you."

She doesn't back away. "Why?"

"Because you fascinate me." The truth slips out before I can catch it.

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