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“What do you mean?”
“You see the twins?” I glance over, taking in the two boys who look identical but hold themselves so differently you can pick them apart. One is dressed immaculate, with shiny imported loafers, a suit tailored to perfection, and blond hair styled perfectly. He holds a charming arrogance that radiates across the room. The other is in ripped jeans and a plain t-shirt. Tattoos snaking over every exposed skin. He is broody and mysterious. Deadly.Beautiful in their own ways. “That’s Everett and Nixon Masterson. As in Masterson and Davenport Oil Co. Everett is a world-class hacker. He once hacked into the governor's hard drive and blackmailed him until he legalized marijuana. Nixon, the pretty one not covered in tattoos, is America's next best quarterback. But his friends call him The Bone Crusher. He can mash bones in your body you didn’t even know you have.”
I shiver but stay vigilant as he continues,“Easton McKnight is the next leader. The face of the bank. He’s the broody one with brown hair.”
“He doesn’t look so bad…” I take in his cigar dress pants and red dress shirt. His body is relaxed with his hands in his pockets, but his eyes… they're lethal. Something a little sinister lying beneath. But out of all of them, he seems the most approachable.
Branson laughs, “That’s the point, Darling. But he’ll snap your neck in under five seconds and make you disappear. The blonde who looks as if she would rather be anywhere else? That’s Ezra. She’s a trained assassin. She can make you bleed from the inside out without ever leaving a mark on your body. She’s only fifteen.”
“My God,” I whisper. The girl has wild, wavy blonde hair. She wears Doc Martens and fishnet stockings under her jean shorts. Some band logo across her chest. She is currently twirling a switchblade as she scans the room.
“The only weakness they seem to have is Monroe. The one tucked under Nixon’s arm. She’s a dancer.” The girl is beautiful, tanned skin and curly brown hair. She is dressed to the nines as she looks up, laughing at Nixon. “And maybe Jessica. The one hiding in the shadows, drawing on a notepad. She sells drugs, though, so I wouldn’t count her out just yet.” Her black hair blends in as she concentrates on whatever she is drawing. But there is a light to her the others lack.
I’m about to respond as I digest all that information, when a voice so deadly stops me in my tracks.
“You brought her here? You got a death wish, Lexington?”
I look up to see a man. Stunned by the insult he just tossed at me. Her. As if I am mere dirt under his feet. Dressed in a full charcoal gray suit and a royal blue dress shirt. His hair is swept back in a mess, but a styled one. A shade of dark blond. His eyes are watching me intently, narrowed. It makes me want to squirm, but I hold it in.
“Come on, Raiden. Don’t spoil the surprise before it’s time.” Branson grins.
Raiden’s jaw ticks as he pushes out his hand. I grab it, shaking lightly as my hand trembles in his. A spark. One single little spark ignites inside me. Not a love interest kind of spark but a familiar spark. I shake it off, “My name's Rayne. It’s nice to meet you, Raiden.”
He watches me. His eyes soften with affection. I yank my hand away and scoot closer to Branson who smirks at Raiden. The lights flicker off before relighting the place in red. Billows of smoke on the floor, sweeping across my ankles. I look up and Raiden is gone. As if he was never there to begin with. A ghost.
The crowd begins moving down different dark hallways.
“Come on, Rayne, Darling. Let’s find out what your sin is.”
“My sin?” I ask in confusion. He hasn’t told me where I am. What this place really is.
“This is a sex club for the elite and there is no limit you can’t reach.”
My stomach sours and twists with knots as he pulls me behind him.
* * *
A red silk card lays in my hand as I examine the finery of it. Symbols and initials rest in embroidery on the silk. Kinks, I realize, as I take them in. BDSM, drop of blood, female kissing female. The list does go on, but I pause when I see the butterfly. I tilt my head, searching my brain for an answer to this one.
“Butterfly?” I ask.
Branson’s jaw ticks and his eyes darken. “Children.”
I gasp, dropping the silk to the ground. I shake my head, backing away slowly. I feel sick. I need to get out of here. I knew I shouldn’t have come. Trusted my guy, but I let him convince me. Love was blind but lust was just as dangerous.
Branson stalks toward me, looking around at everyone in the same room as us. “Don’t make a scene,” he whispers, gripping my arm and pulling me out into a hallway.
We climb two flights of gold stairs until he pulls out a skeleton key. He pushes me into an all-black room with a giant L painted on the wall above the four-poster bed. L as in for Lexington. As in they come here a lot.
My head is pushed into the door. Branson’s hand wraps securely around my neck as he watches me. I grip his hand, trying to release myself from his grip.
“Remember what I said, you can’t stop it. No one can.”
My body trembles as I fight off images of what I picture happens to children in a place like this. My heartbeat picks up, slamming against my chest. My skin is uncomfortable, it feels foreign to me and I wish I could crawl out of it. My breath comes out uneven as my eye rounds in alarm. Branson curses slightly before releasing my neck and dropping his lips to mine. At first, I don’t move, don’t kiss him back. His hand slips under my dress, grabbing me. His thumb strokes my clit. Slow and light, a featherlight touch. Two of his fingers slip into me. Gasping, my hands go to his shoulders.
“You’re so tight, squeezing around my fingers.”
He scissors his fingers before pumping. His thumb pushes down on my clit as I fall apart. His fingers still work me as the noise of my arousal fills the room.
