Chapter Three

EMMA

Emma sipped a gin and tonic while leaning against the bar and looking out at the party. Couture’s Halloween party was going off without a hitch. The biggest complaint Emma had gotten was that there hadn’t been enough time in between the announcement and the event to create the perfect costume.

“There’s always next year,” Emma had responded cheerfully.

She could understand the criticism, because there hadn’t been a spare sewing machine to be had leading up to the party. Together with Tee and Colleen, however, they had made sure there had been plenty of material and sewing notions to go around. There had been a few all-nighters pulled where models were hand stitching in the corridors throughout Couture. And mini sewing parties popped up everywhere.

Emma was already seeing sketches for next year’s costume ideas. Colleen and Anya were considering incorporating some of the designs into a new clothing line featuring fairy-tale fantasies. Personally, Emma thought some of the designs she saw were pushing more toward the Club Inferno side than Couture, but sometimes those lines blurred a little bit. Fashion sometimes was kinky too.

She felt a thrill of satisfaction at a job well done and then she felt a thrill of something else when Dante strode across the dance floor toward her. He was the personification of the Big Bad Wolf. Shirtless beneath a fur vest that did little to conceal the chiseled planes of his chest or the strength coiled in his shoulders, Dante smiled at her and she saw a glimpse of fang.

The better to eat you with, my dear, a little voice in her head whispered.

The sight of him, all primal dominance and simmering sex appeal, sent an electric surge of desire skittering down Emma’s spine. With each step he took, her pulse quickened, anticipation curling within her like smoke. His tight pants clung to his powerful thighs, hinting at the raw physicality beneath, and the dark ink snaking over his muscled arms whispered of untold stories and nights of unbridled passion.

“Something wicked this way comes,” she murmured, half to herself.

It was as if he heard her words because he locked in on her with an intense stare. Emma cleared her throat to steady herself, the sound lost amidst the hum of conversation and clinking glasses.

“Please tell me that isn’t real fur,” Emma said when he had closed the distance between them.

“Do you want to touch it and see?” Dante said, leaning in close to her. But he was only signaling the bartender for a drink. She was nearly scorched by the heat of his body and the answering flush of her own. Not knowing where she got the courage—maybe it was from the gin and tonic—she stroked her hand up the soft material.

“How many baby bunnies died to give you this vest?” She had to force a lightness in her voice that she didn’t feel.

“It’s not real. You don’t have to worry your soft heart over my fashion choices.”

Emma wished he would sling his arm around her and hold her close and hug her. The last time he had hugged her was when she had fallen off her bike and bent the rim. She hadn’t cared that her knees had been busted up or that she might’ve fractured her elbow. Her bike, her beloved bike, had been trashed. And there hadn’t been any extra money to fix it.

After he had held her until she stopped crying, Dante had brought her to his house. His parents weren’t home, but that was par for the course. He had bandaged up her knees and was kind when she cried when the iodine stung. Then he had made her a milkshake and they had watched cartoons together until she felt strong enough to have him walk her home.

Emma had been ten and he had been fifteen. She had fallen in love with him that day. But she wasn’t a ten-year-old girl anymore. And now their age difference of twenty-four and twenty-nine didn’t seem like such a big gap.

Dante, unfortunately, stepped away from her when he got his seven and seven from the bartender, but he still leaned on the bar and looked down at her in amusement.

“The candy bowls were a great touch,” he said. “I’m surprised that they were so popular.”

“The fun size makes it easier to indulge,” Emma said.

“Or overindulge. I think I ate my weight in Almond Joys.”

Emma hid a smile. They had always been his favorite. And she’d stocked a whole bowl, just for him.

“Everyone seems to be having a good time,” he said. “You put on an impressive party. I can’t wait to see what you do at the Club Inferno one next week.”

“That’s Tee’s responsibility,” Emma said, suddenly shy.

“Yes, but if I know you, you have some great ideas for it.”

“You caught me,” she said. Maybe it was best if he thought that she was only going to be planning the party instead of being there. She couldn’t resist petting the vest one more time. Maybe this time next week, she could be petting what was under the vest.

“Have you heard from Joey lately?” he asked.

Joey, Joey, Joey. It was always about Joey with him. She would forever be just Joey’s little sister to him. She wanted Dante to see her as grown-up and her own woman. But then again, that was selfish thinking. Dante and Joey had been best friends for a long time and Joey hadn’t been very communicative in the last few years. Emma bit back a sigh. Still, she wished they could talk about things other than her brother.

“I get a letter from him at least once a month. If I’m lucky, more than that. But it always comes from a PO Box, so I don’t know where he is right now, except that it’s...”

“Classified,” they both said at the same time.

She shared his smile and suddenly it was nice to be with someone who knew her brother so well.

“Still, from what he tells me, he’s enjoying his work and is not in any danger. But I suppose if he was in danger, he wouldn’t tell me because he wouldn’t want me and our parents to worry.”

“How are they?”

“The same. Mom is marching on Washington later this month. And Dad is planning a trip to Rome to research his latest conspiracy theory.” She rolled her eyes.

Dante chuckled, and she nearly melted into a puddle at his feet. He was so very handsome when he loosened up. He almost never did. He looked much younger and carefree when he let down his guard.

“I’m glad some things never change,” he said.

“You should come by one Sunday for dinner,” Emma offered eagerly. “I know how much you love my mom’s meatloaf and mashed potatoes.”

She couldn’t read the quick play of emotions that flashed across his face, but once it was done, the amusement was gone and the cold mask that Dante usually wore around Couture was firmly back in place. “I’ll check my schedule,” he said.

It wasn’t a no, no matter what his tone said. So she pushed a bit, lifting her chin up at him in defiance. “I can check your schedule for you. I don’t believe you have anything happening on Sundays.”

This time, she recognized the flashing surprise in his eyes and a sardonic smile twisted his lips. “You don’t manage my personal schedule.”

“Touché. But I know my parents would love to see you. It’s been a few years. Surely you can make some time in your very busy schedule to see them?”

Dante winced. “You wield the guilt hammer like I wield a whip.”

“I didn’t mean to leave any marks.” Emma placed her hand on his strong forearm. Her fingers tingled when it brushed the silky hairs on his arm. She had it bad for him. And he had no clue.

“All right, you’ve convinced me. If it’s fine with your mother and father, I’ll be there next Sunday.”

Next Sunday was the day after club Inferno’s Halloween party. “They’ll be thrilled.”

She wondered if he’d be able to look her parents in the eye if Emma managed to get a spot in his dungeon on Saturday. She wondered if she’d be able to look her parents in the eye if her bottom was too sore from the spanking he would hopefully give her. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all. Of course, this was all contingent on him not marching her ass right out of the dungeon when he recognized her.

Then again, she was going to be wearing a mask. And he didn’t think she was coming to the Club Inferno party anyway. Perhaps if she didn’t speak much and disguised her voice, they could have an anonymous hookup. Well, it would be anonymous for him. She would treasure the memory with him forever and ever. And who knew, maybe once it happened, it would be easier to have a second or a third time. But even if it didn’t, she would get a memorable evening with him.

“Have you heard from your parents?” Emma asked tentatively.

Dante didn’t scowl, but the cold mask grew impossibly colder. “No,” he said, and that was the end of that conversation. His father had been an abusive son of a bitch, and his mother had never been there for Dante, even when she was there.

Anastasia Ashton, or A.A. as her son called her, spent most of her time out of the house, doing everything from charity projects to going to Tupperware parties. Unfortunately, that left Dante alone with his father, and he took the brunt of his father’s temper and frustration at his inability to keep his wife at home.

She knew that Dante had enjoyed going to the elite boarding school that they sent him to. And after that, she had heard, he had gotten a degree in psychology from Stanford.

“What brought you back here from California?” she asked. What she really wanted to ask was why wasn’t he in a practice somewhere instead of working full-time as a Dom in a sex club?

“I grew bored with the lifestyle out there,” he said casually as he pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. The soft touch of his fingertips sent shivers up her spine and made her nipples impossibly hard.

“The BDSM lifestyle?” she asked.

It startled a laugh out of him, and she felt like an idiot.

“No, the nine-to-five grind of working in an office.”

Perhaps the floor would swallow her up now. Anytime. She wanted to disappear.

“But at the risk of making your cheeks any redder, I was bored with the lifestyle in that area there as well.”

“Oh,” she squeaked.

“Does your brother know you work in a place like this?”

In her brother’s eyes, she would always be an awkward teenager. Even ten years later, he still treated her like she was a little kid. He even still called her kiddo. “I figure if he keeps me on a need-to-know basis about location, I could do the same. My parents know I work at Couture, but like everyone else, they’re not aware of Club Inferno. It’s none of their business, anyway.”

“They must be disappointed that you’re not teaching,” he said.

“They’re not the only ones.”

“I can’t believe you couldn’t find a job in this economy.”

She gave him a tight smile. “I never applied.”

“Why not? Did you find that you didn’t like teaching small children?”

“No, I loved it. I miss that part of it. I’m just a big fat coward is what it comes down to.”

Dante took a sip of his drink. “That wouldn’t be a word that I would ever use to describe you.”

“Really?”

“I remember one time Joey and I decided that we were going to hide when the school bus dropped you off, and then we jumped out to scare you. You didn’t even jump. You just rolled your eyes and told us we were being ridiculous.”

“Well, you were being ridiculous. First of all, I don’t know how the two of you thought that you were hiding. I could hear you snickering and laughing from the bus. And then you decided to pull your hats down over your faces. It was a wonder that you didn’t crack each other in the heads when you jumped out at me. You didn’t scare me. You made me laugh.”

“We really weren’t looking to terrify you. But it would have made our day if you had screamed a little and maybe chased us around the house.”

“Is that why you found other ways to torment me? I was especially fond of when you used to play with my Barbie dolls and then leave them in interesting places around the house.”

“I didn’t play with your Barbie dolls,” Dante corrected. “I positioned them in places that I thought would amuse you to find them in.”

He had posed them innocently enough. She wondered how he would pose them now. Did he pose his subs in ways that would amuse him? Standing just a breath away from Dante, the air between them was thick with unspoken promises and the sweet tang of anticipation.

When a few of Couture’s models who were dressed like slutty nurses, even though that wasn’t the theme, came up to the bar giggling, squeezing in between her and Dante, Emma reluctantly slid away because she didn’t want to see them flirt with Dante or see his reaction.

She circled around the party, making sure that the candy bins and the other snack jars were well-stocked. The Halloween party was in full swing, the crowd around them a dizzying carousel of costumes and masked revelry. Anya, who was dressed like Puss in Boots, complete with a colorful feathered hat and knee-high leather boots with stilettos so high she towered over Emma, came over.

“Fabulous party,” she said, doffing her hat and giving her a deep courtly bow.

“Thanks.” Emma giggled at her antics.

“You certainly have caught the attention of our favorite grumpy Dom.”

Emma looked over to where Dante was chatting up the models. “Not really,” she said.

“His eyes follow you everywhere,” Anya said. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you had him wrapped around your little finger after next week.”

“Shh,” Emma said. “Keep your voice down. It’s supposed to be a surprise.”

“Dante’s not a moron,” Anya said. “He’s going to know it’s you, even though you’re wearing a mask.”

“No, because he doesn’t really see me. He sees the girl next door. The last thing he’s going to expect is me at Club Inferno boldly propositioning him.”

“Don’t do it boldly,” Anya said. “You need to be submissive, or at least be willing to act submissive when you’re playing with him.” Then she shrugged. “Or be bold, knowing it’s going to get you a spanking or some other punishment you may or may not find as amusing. Dom’s choice.”

Emma felt herself audibly swallow. It was like one of those gulp moments that you saw in comic strips.

“I’m guessing that this will be your first time in a scene?” Anya asked.

“Yeah, I’ve always been curious. But I haven’t had the courage or the ability to build trust with anyone like I have with Dante.”

“Men like Dante don’t come with training wheels. You might be better off starting your lessons with someone less intense. Like Micah over here.” Anya linked her arm through Emma’s and walked her across the room where a beautiful man with flowing golden hair that fell just past his butt was lounging on a leather chaise. He was dressed regally in what looked to be authentic leather armor. He had a silver-handled dagger with an ornate jeweled pommel sticking out of his boot. And when he stood up as they approached, he shifted a sword belt with a long sword nestled inside it that was attached to his belt.

“Micah, this is Emma. She works with Colleen and Tee, but she does scheduling for downstairs as well.” Anya placed emphasis on the word downstairs.

Micah was wearing lavender-colored contact lenses and she saw hints of a pointed ear when he bent over her hand and gently kissed it. She felt the ridiculous need to curtsey. All he needed was a crown of gold leaves to look like an elven prince.

“It’s a pleasure to meet your acquaintance, milady,” he said.

Damn, he was pretty. Emma wished she felt something, anything, for him. But there wasn’t even a mild attraction.

“I love your costume,” she said truthfully.

“My thanks. This is my first time wearing it. I’m planning on trying it out at the Renaissance Faire circuit this year.”

“I need to get back to Clint,” Anya said. “He’s been taking some great candid shots. But I’ve got to remind him that all work and no play makes Clint a very dull boy.”

Micah looked up in amusement. “I’d like to watch his reaction when you tell him that.”

“I’ve heard that you like to watch,” Anya flirted, and then with a saucy wink tottered away on her impossibly high heels. Micah was about to say something to Emma, but then his gaze caught on something over her head and his eyes widened. She resisted the urge to turn around because she felt Dante approach. She knew it was Dante because the hairs of her arms rose up in awareness. Even though the party was noisy, Emma felt the thump of his boots as he came closer as if it was the beat of her very own heart. When his hand came down on her shoulder, she couldn’t resist a full body shiver. Micah noticed, and with a smile took a step back.

“Dante, who are you supposed to be? The Big Bad Wolf?” he said.

“I’m no one of consequence in any storybook that you’ve ever read,” Dante said. “Emma, show me around your party.”

“I didn’t think this was your scene,” Micah said to him, putting a double entendre into his words.

“Emma is not part of any scene,” Dante said, and gave Micah a warning look. Micah put up his hands as if he was surrendering.

“How disappointing, Emma. It was a pleasure meeting you.” And with that, Micah returned to lounging on the couch.

“I don’t need you to watch out for me,” Emma said as they walked away. But she couldn’t stay mad at him when he put his hand under her arm. She felt cherished and protected, which was ridiculous since Dante was just being polite.

“I don’t believe you know who Micah is,” Dante said. “He isn’t on the Club’s schedule. He books his own fun.”

“Anya hinted at what he is, but I was just having a conversation with the man. He’s awfully pretty, don’t you think?”

Dante’s jaw tightened. “Looks can be deceiving.”

“I know that. For example, you look dark and dangerous. And we both know that you’re a teddy bear.”

Dante barked out a laugh. “People change. Come with me.” Dante walked her toward the dance floor. A four-piece band was playing baroque music, and a few couples were waltzing, or at least attempting to waltz. Some of them were just seizing the opportunity to dance close and sway to the music. She hoped Dante would do a turn on the dance floor with her. His mother had made him take dance lessons. Emma had begged her mother until she relented and let her take the same class. She’d desperately hoped that they would be partners, but Dante had always chosen an older girl.

Emma wasn’t about to wait for him to make the decision. “Would you care to dance?” she asked him.

She didn’t think she could have shocked him more. But if he thought this was shocking, he was really going to clutch his pearls next week.

“I didn’t take you for one who’d lead the dance,” he replied, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate straight through her.

“Maybe I’m full of surprises,” she shot back, her confidence blossoming as she registered the flicker of intrigue in his eyes.

He extended a hand, rough and sure—his grip strong as he guided her toward the pulsating heart of the dance floor. The heat of his skin seared hers, branding her with an invisible mark that whispered of countless possibilities.

Their bodies melded into the rhythm, finding a harmony that transcended the music—a silent language composed of motion and touch. Beneath the strobe lights, Dante’s fur vest brushed against her bare arms, each soft caress stoking the fire that threatened to consume her from within.

“Your boldness suits you, Red,” Dante murmured, their bodies swaying in perfect accord.

She tipped her head back, meeting his intense gaze. “Maybe it’s your influence,” she confessed, feeling the words pour out of her like a libation offered at an altar of temptation.

“Or maybe it’s been there all along, waiting for the right moment to surface.” His hand slid down her spine, anchoring her against him, and a shiver raced up her back—a thrilling mix of fear and desire.

Emma let herself be carried by the tide of the dance, her hips pressed against Dante’s, their movements growing more suggestive with each passing beat. The bass line reverberated through her bones, a drumbeat echoing the wild cadence of her heartbeat.

But just when she thought the dance would take a more erotic turn, the song was over.

“Thank you,” Dante said, his voice sounding forced. And with a small bow, he turned and left her on the dance floor. Alone.