20. Twenty

Twenty

A rrangements have been made. The moment that's loomed over me like a dark cloud all week is here. The idea of stepping foot inside Savage makes me nervous, let alone what might unfold once we confront Tara—her claws will be out for sure.

"Are you okay?"

Art's voice jolts me out of my anxiety-induced daydream. He leans against the doorframe of the walk-in wardrobe, naked, apart from a pair of black jeans. "You've been staring at your clothes for ages."

I smile weakly and turn back to the clothes hanging on the rails. "I'm a bit nervous," I admit.

"About confronting her?"

I shrug. "About it all. I've never been anywhere like Savage before. "

"Whatever you think it's going to be like, it's probably not that bad," he assures, walking up to me.

I've got to get over my nerves and deal with it. I'm determined not to be a weak link.

Focus, Soph.

I pull out my black jeans. "I'm thinking black. So I don't stand out."

"Don't be nervous. Everyone will be far too wrapped up in their own business to notice us." Art stands behind me and rests his hands on my shoulders. "It's a shame we're kind of on a deadline right now."

He brushes his hand through my hair and steps closer. I feel the heat from his bare chest against my back and sink my teeth into my bottom lip to suppress a shiver of need. He's read my thoughts.

"Because you're wearing my favourite thing in the world."

My eyes slide down my body to my black lace bra and knickers. He places a teasingly light kiss on my neck, and I let out a sigh—I'm helpless. Savage, Tara, and what we're about to do fall away from my thoughts. I want him to move those big hands of his lower—off my shoulders, down my back, sweep them across my stomach, and lower still, making me come undone.

He steps up even closer, pressing his chest against my back and his erection into my buttocks. "I'm aching to unwrap you."

"Touch me," I whisper.

"If I do"—he traces his fingertips across the tops of my shoulders, sending every nerve in my body pinging to attention— "I won't stop until I'm balls deep inside you and you're screaming my name."

A long breath leaves my body in disappointment as he removes his hands from my shoulders and steps back from me, like he doesn't trust himself to be that close to me any longer.

"We'd fuck the plan up for tonight, but that would definitely get you to relax." There's a smile in his voice.

"It definitely would. "

"Later," his voice rasps in my ear, making me jump.

I glance round. His jeans cling to his tight backside as he swaggers out the door in a way that suggests he knows he's being ogled.

I can't help but smile. Cocky git.

I step into black skinny jeans and pull on a black jumper, leaving my hair loose. I shrug on my short black leather jacket and walk into the bedroom. Art is sitting at the end of the bed, scrolling through his mobile, looking up when I enter.

I scan his all-black ensemble—boots, jeans, and jumper. There's something familiar about this get-up.

"Do you always wear black when you … do this stuff?" I pull my hair out of the collar of my jacket and watch as he glances down at his clothes in confusion.

"How do you mean?"

I point at what he's wearing. "The other night, when I asked you to … show me your past, you wore black."

"Yes, I suppose I did." He looks at me thoughtfully and stands. "Black's nondescript, I guess. It doesn't give much of me away. The real me, I mean." He takes my hands in his. "How are you feeling now?"

I scrunch up my nose. "Slightly better. I still feel a bit nervous."

"Don't. Everything's been arranged. The worst Tara can do is storm out without telling us anything. After tonight, we'll have a better idea about what she's told Theo and how much he knows." He gives my hands a squeeze. "He's a loose cannon, and I want to know what, if anything, he's got planned."

Part of me doesn't want to know what's going on in Theo's warped mind, but I know we need to find out the truth.

Art pulls his hands from mine and cups my face. Serious, dark eyes stare down at me. "And I swear on my life, Sophie, next time, he won't get anywhere near you. I'll be ready and waiting."

Parked across the road from the club, the Aston Martin blends into the darkness. My nerves from earlier are back with a vengeance at the sight of the subdued, backlit, embossed silver sign over the entrance doors. The club looks even more discreet in the dark and gives no indication as to the shenanigans taking place inside.

"Are you okay?" Art asks for the third time in as many minutes.

"I just want to get it over with." I look anxiously at the entrance doors. "So, do we just walk in?"

"No, members have a key card."

Member? An uncomfortable thought hits me, and my eyes shoot to Art. "You're not still a member, are you?"

His eyebrows twitch into a frown. "No, Sophie."

I sit up straight in my seat as an even more alarming thought strikes me. "Then, how come you and Aisling were allowed in, if neither of you are members anymore?" There's an accusatory edge to my question, which I didn't intend and which causes his frown to deepen.

"You don't have to be a member to use the bar, just to use other … facilities. My guy on the inside has sorted me a swipe card for tonight," he says.

I fold my arms and sit back in the seat, relaxing slightly.

"Before we go in, there are a few things you need to know," Art carries on. "When we get to the room, you'll need to go and hide in the cupboard. Tara won't know you're there."

"What's in the cupboard?"

"Equipment. Don't get freaked out. There'll also be other stuff in the room."

"Like what?"

"A bench."

"And I'm guessing it's not the sort you sit on."

"No, it's the type you get tied down to and fucked over."

Shit!

His response sends a bolt of electricity between my thighs, and I press them together .

Focus, Sophie.

"Won't Tara be in the room? Won't she see me?"

"No. I've specifically asked that I enter first. That's not unusual, so she shouldn't get suspicious. You'll have time to hide."

"What are you going to say to her?"

"I can't go in, all guns blazing. I need her to talk and open up to me. I can't afford for her to suss something's up right away because she'll walk." He looks at me. "I might have to play along with it for a while."

I stare out the window, my stomach in knots. "You mean, you need to make her think you're there to have sex with her."

He reaches over and puts his hand on mine, but I don't look at him. "I'm not going to touch her, Sophie, but she's bound to mention you."

I sigh. "I get it. It will be an act."

"I'm going to have to say things I don't mean and play along. Whatever I say or she says, keep your cool until the right time."

I fix him an indignant look. "I know; I know. I'm not going to blow it."

His eyes slide to the digital clock on the centre console. "We should get a move on; it's nearly time."

I follow Art closely across the road. He slides a key card out of the back pocket of his jeans and swipes it through the grey box on the wall, opening one of the grey entrance doors.

Inside, it's dark and quiet. The faint beat of music can be heard in the background, and the black chandelier lights are turned down low. The decor is a mixture of charcoal-grey carpets and opulent, plush black wallpaper. It's got a private, understated vibe to it, much like the exterior. I guess I expected naked, writhing bodies when, in reality, if I didn't know where I was, I could be forgiven for thinking I'd walked into a trendy boutique hotel. There's a single grey door to the right and a black wrought iron spiral staircase leading upwards over to the left. Straight ahead is a hole in the wall with a frosted glass partition.

I keep myself glued to Art as we walk. "What's up there? I whisper, eyeing the spiral staircase.

He follows my gaze. "The bar."

We come to a stop at the partition in the wall. Beneath the frosted glass is a metal trough, like at bank counters. There's a small gap beneath the partition, just enough so you know someone's on the other side but not big enough for you to be able to identify them. It seems anonymity really is the name of the game in this place. A black key card is slipped into the metal trough. His guy perhaps?

Art slides it out. "Thanks."

I take his cue and follow him over to the single door to the right, which he opens with the key card. A long, dimly lit corridor lies beyond, which I can't see the end of. The same grey and black decor carries on throughout. Dark grey doors lead off to the left and right. My curiosity gets the better of me, and I'm about to ask what's behind them when I hear a male voice in the throes of ecstasy cry out from behind one of the doors we pass by.

"Someone's enjoying themselves," Art murmurs, flashing a wicked smile.

"This isn't what I expected," I say as we carry on down the corridor.

"No?"

"I expected there to be lots of naked people … having sex everywhere."

Art laughs. "They don't have orgies here, but I'm sure it could be arranged. There are specific rooms you go to for voyeurism or sharing."

I blush. "Have you ever been?"

My question evokes a deep chuckle from him. "No, Sophie. I think we both know I don't do sharing."

That's true.

"It's quiet." I glance back down the corridor. "There's hardly anyone about. "

"It's private. That's what the members want. You'd be surprised who I've caught glimpses of skulking about this place."

I'm intrigued. "Really? Like who?"

"Let' just say, a few well-known MPs would be rather red-faced if I ever went to the press. That's why they make you sign a non-disclosure as part of your membership."

Shit. No wonder.

We come to a stop outside the door marked eighteen.

Art places the key card in the door slot and looks at me. "Are you ready?"

I'm more nervous than ever. I nod. "It's now or never, right?"

He smiles and goes to kiss me, but I pull back. "Anyone could see."

But his hands are in my hair, and he presses his lips to mine and then pulls away an inch, staring deep into my eyes. "It's worth the risk."

He smiles and opens the door with a swipe of the card.