Chapter 5

Five

Sapphire

F our hours later I wave Raphe off and step into Chicago’s new playground and second sacred location.

The Gilded Key Society.

The one place where your sexual fantasies can come true.

A few lavish locations for the club dot the continent. If what Belle tells me is true—and she should know—there are plans in the works for more locations in larger cities like New York City and Los Angeles. Paris is on the table, too, with other exotic locations in mind.

I turn on my heel. “Oh, no. I’m sorry.” A short woman with silver hair and wise eyes stumbles a little, her purse falling to the ground. I catch her elbow and we somehow manage not to topple over.

“I am so sorry. I should have looked before I just started walking. Are you okay?”

I kneel and start gathering the fallen pieces of paper that escaped the lady’s purse when I pause.

“The death card,” I say. I turn my gaze to hers when she comes to her knees beside me.

“Seems your guardian angels are working late tonight.”

A set of warm hands gathers mine for a quick squeeze before releasing me.

“You’re a tarot reader?” I shouldn’t sound surprised, but getting this card on a day like this one knocks the wind out of me.

My heart isn’t in my chest for long after she nods and says, “And I guess I just did a reading for you, hon.” She plucks the death card from my hand and raises it with a side glance at The Society. “And something tells me you’re about to find out what this card means for you and it doesn't include a coffin, sweetheart.”

She collects her belongings and with another smile she disappears around the corner.

I gather the ends of my evening gown and thank the doorman as he swings the large polished door wide for me. I take one last look behind me, but the older woman is gone.

The converted hotel from days gone by reminds me of the Waldorf Astoria with its limestone and brick in various shades of gray, weathered by time and the changing seasons. I let those thoughts trickle through my mind instead of what just happened.

A canopied entryway leads to a luxurious interior. Cool, floral-scented air wraps around my heated skin and I sigh with welcomed relief. Not only from the heat outside but from the events of my day. Remnants of adrenaline cause my fingers to tremble and my knees are not doing all that well. They wobble as though I took a power walk through Hell and survived.

The entrance is barren of people so I take a moment, close my eyes and find my inner calm. Fallout from my father’s actions isn’t new. And today is just a taste of what I am facing if I continue with Genesis.

I roll one shoulder and then the other. Finishing with Riot took longer than expected. Seconds after hitting send on the contract runners started phoning in with sightings—most false but a couple held promise. Riot insisted on sitting through every single minute until the runners grew quiet. A bottle of vodka and some smooth-talking from Harlon helped convince the tortured man to let the runners do their jobs while Riot got some sleep.

Behind me the doors snick closed, locking out the sounds of evening traffic. Silence wraps around me. Here I allow the tension of the day to unwind from my shoulders. One muscle at a time I can feel the stress of Genesis leech from my body and into the ethers beneath my feet.

I open my eyes at the sound of feminine footfalls on marble.

“Welcome to The Gilded Key Society, Ms. Constantine. It’s good to see you are enjoying your new membership.”

What she means is, wow, you’re back again?

The elegantly dressed hostess greets me with a smile and hands me a fountain pen. Rich black ink glides over thick, eggshell-colored paper as I sign my name in the club’s ledger with gold leaf and finished edges.

“Is Belle Constantine in her dressing room?”

The hostess is already shaking her head and gesturing for me to follow. “She’s waiting for you in the private viewing room for a drink before her show.”

Just like Belle. A little pre-party before the real deal.

I follow the hostess out of the reception area with its high chandeliers and large floral arrangements. The clack-clack of our heels on the marble floors is the only sound until we reach the lounge. Notes of low-tempo music pipe into the spacious atmosphere and each vibration works to free the remaining tension in my body. My gaze draws to one side where a long bar is backdropped by a wall of multi-colored bottles. You would think the first thing you see walking into a sex club is sex, but not so much. They leave that for the specialty rooms on the levels above.

Members spread out along the expansive black marble, some standing while others enjoying the lavishly cushioned leather stools with their top-shelf liquor. All speak in soft voices and give off a mellow vibe in the contemporary setting.

All of this is in stark contrast to Genesis. To me anyway. My cousin and his friends seem right at home in their mobster club, but to me, my senses are always on high alert for lurking danger.

Where on the flip side, the clean lines, muted lights, and golden elegance of The Society work together to wrap its members in sensual acceptance. No chance of meeting people like Snake Eyes here.

I follow the hostess past the bar and through a black door with a simple, elegant golden plaque that reads Mirror Room in smooth black. It’s one of many showrooms, according to Belle. I haven’t ventured outside of this room much so I am sure there are delights to be discovered for the adventurous types on the other levels.

I pause before stepping inside the room. Every cell in my body is on high alert. Clashing desires send my heart racing. I want to see them, but at the same time, I’m afraid tonight I might be the one to approach them.

Or they could not be here at all.

That thought is killed off the moment I cross over the threshold into the soft-lit room.

Their presence is felt before I lay eyes on them.

They sit in the same booth with the same bottle of vodka. Same dire expressions on their stoic faces. There’s a problem and the solution isn’t obvious. Why that thought enters my mind is probably due to dealing with issues all day long and noticing the signs.

But their problems are not mine to solve.

Out of habit, I note the members already gathering in other various booths. The square ones along the outer wall feature lavish velvet curtains and removable tables that sink into the floor. Two booths away is where I spot Belle waving me over.

Toward the center of the room are various-sized settees in black leather that circle the low stage in the center of the room. No walls. No curtains. Those are reversed for the members who find sharing their passions with others just as much of a turn-on as the act of sex itself. Above us is a ceiling of reflective glass.

I have to admit, it’s not my style, but I love watching others find what makes them happy. It’s addictive.

My attention falls to the group of men and their tattooed hands again. I don’t know why I feel shocked when the one facing me raises his eyes.

A shiver runs up my back.

I swallow, feeling my pulse race. It’s okay. It’s not like they know who I am or can read my thoughts.

I stroke the pads of my fingers over the pulse point in my wrist. It grounds me. Reminds me to breathe when my nerves soar.

I know the one facing me. Gregor Zakharov. Russian mafia. Dirty blond, green piercing eyes and looks about as friendly as a hungry bear.

We stay like this, staring at each other for several heartbeats. It’s only seconds probably but it feels longer. Those green eyes of his are unwavering. The man to his side turns and now I have the fierce attention of two mafia men.

Jesus. They are intense.

The second man is Lev Pavolov. The name is all too familiar. There are not many nights when the news isn’t filled with one or all of the Southern Alliance men. Absurdly good-looking. Black hair, startling dark eyes. While the pure heat on his friend’s face makes me curious about my darker desires, this one uses his body language to say the second I’m close enough I’ll regret ever letting him near my virginity.

Heat fuses every blood cell in my veins. Fire licks up my body and I can’t tell if I like the burn of the flames or if I should fear them.

With all the curtains drawn back, my reflection catches in the floor-to-ceiling mirrors encompassing the entire span of the room, hence the name. I see what they see. The lust glimmering in my eyes. My lips part and crimson flushes my cheeks.

“Ma’am, if you’ll follow me, please,” the hostess says, but I don’t move.

I can’t. Curiosity flickers over their expressions and reflects in mine.

The mirrors don’t lie.

My heart hammers in my chest when they move to stand. I watch their fingers drop to the buttons for their jackets. Are they coming over here?

Move Sapph. Do something.

My inner voice is right, but I’m trapped.

There’s usually a third with them. Elyah Morozov. The leader of the Southern Alliance. Brutal, bloodthirsty, and a real son-of-a-bitch. Harlon’s words are cut-throat when he speaks about his rival. I wouldn’t know. Gossip and hearsay aren’t good methods to measure others.

But he’s not here, I notice. It’s just his two friends. From several feet away I can see the muscles in their jaws flex, hungry intentions burning in their stares.

They start to move in my direction.

Are they coming over here? Yes, they are. Oh, God.

My pulse soars.

Lev says something to Gregor that has them changing course and sitting down again.

Wait. What? No. Damn it. What just happened? My blood pressure tanks.

When the tension breaks and the shock and intensity of their gazes shift, I feel like I can breathe again.

Get a grip, Sapph.

“Ms. Constantine. Are you okay?”

The sound of my name breaks the spell fully.

“Yes? Oh, um, yes.” I fall into reality and let me just say it sucks balls.

“Right this way, please.”

Belle stands and I make my way to her. Her long blonde hair is swept away from her heart-shaped face and there’s happiness written all over her expression.

I’d hate her if I didn’t love her so damn much.

I know for a fact Harlon will be happy for her, too, if she ever gets some steel into her spine and fesses up about what she’s been doing and with whom. But the fear of being black-balled keeps her lips sealed. Given how the family treated Harlon for the same kind of relationship, we both know she’s not wrong. Not from Harlon. She’s just afraid of big brother going into protective mode.

“I’ll leave you now, Ms. Constantine. Enjoy your stay in The Society.”

There for a minute, I thought the death card from the tarot reader might have been right. Too bad. I thought maybe tonight would be different and change was on its way. Disappointment fills me, but I remember my manners. “Thank you.”

I silently hope the first thing Belle notices is my new evening gown and not the markings on my throat. I weave through the low tables and sofas positioned throughout the room and accept Belle’s hug when I reach her booth.

But she goes for neither and instead picks up on the vibes passing between the Southern Alliance and me.

“What the heck was that about?”

She glances over her shoulder but I pull her back around.

“Never mind. It was nothing. Probably mistaken identity.” The same war going on inside me worsens. Being near them and not acting is killing me. I shove down my desires and school my expression.

“Liar. I’m not blind, Sapph. I see them every night, too. Harlon would keel over if he knew we were here with the Southern Alliance three tables over.”

It takes a huge amount of energy to not roll my eyes. I am so damn tired of all the borders and mafia feuds. “What? You scared of your brother now?”

From the outside looking in, she is the perfect example of a spoiled member of Constantine royalty. But I know the real her. She’s as dirty as she is sweet.

“Yeah right!” she scoffs.

I give a low laugh. “That’s what I thought.”

“Good deflection. But, come on. I see that fuck me look on your face. You wanna do the nasty with those three.” She gestures behind her and I grab her hand again, this time holding on to it.

“Belle!” I hiss. “Can you try to be a little louder?”

I let my knees turn to water. They’ve been threatening to give under my weight for a while now so I give in, utterly exhausted. And I don’t think I can hold a straight face for much longer.

My weight sinks into a plush cushion and I sigh. Thank God the high dividers between the booths block me from view when we sit down.

“What? Tell me I’m lying.”

This is why we are best of friends. I know the true her. The one with the kinky desires and filthy dreams and she knows my darkest secrets.

Despite all the smiles and cute selfies, the three Navy SEALs she’s performing with tonight have no idea she’s in love with them. I can’t imagine performing a sex show with men you have feelings for and not being able to express them beyond the time on the stage.

I throw my thoughts into reverse. That’s not entirely true. My inner voice of reality calls my attention to a fact I try to ignore inside these walls. Every night this week I’ve been in the same room with a trio of mafia men that have no idea I would strip for them the second they commanded it. No love needed.

“You’re such a hussy. I can feel those take me I’m yours vibes rippling off you like waves in an ocean, girl.” She wraps her hand around her throat in a dramatic way as if she’s drowning.

I put my phone on the table and run my hands over the smooth buttery soft leather of the sofa I sit on. “You are too much sometimes, you know that?”

“But ya love me.”

Pretty glossed lips pull up into a mischievous grin and then it dawns on me. She plays coy behind her margarita glass while pushing another toward me.

I take it. “You knew they were going to be here. Not just tonight but this whole week.” I lean forward. “That’s the real reason you wanted me here, isn’t it?”

I can’t believe I am so stupid. I drown my harsh words with tequila instead of letting them hurt my friend. I know she only means well.

The mood shifts from casual to tense. “You are always talking about wanting a family. I happen to know something and I’ve been waiting to see if the chemistry between you guys would work. And now I think I have my answer.”

I lick the salt from my lips. “Like some cupid?” I don’t believe what I am hearing.

She’s leaning across the table like she’s telling me a big secret. Maybe it is.

“Hear me out, okay? A couple of the women who handle club contracts between members were talking in the bathroom last week and I overheard that all three men of the Southern Alliance are looking for a breeder.”

My brows shoot up. “Come again?” I did not hear that right. Booties, onesies, and strollers are not items I associate with those three. Try more like bullets, caskets, and midnight lust fests in a dark ritzy sex club.

Belle gestures with her hands over her belly like my expression says I’m lost.

“You know.” She makes a baby bump gesture. “A breeder. Someone to have their baby under contract.”

Yep. That’s what I thought. “You are not serious. You didn’t talk to them about me, did you?” My heart races and not for the same reason as earlier. Oh God repeats on a loop at a high volume through my head.

“No, silly.”

I take a deep breath and center myself inside, the pad of my thumb finding the pulse point on my wrist.

One.

Two.

Three.

I release the air in my lungs.

“Let’s start over. Hi, I’m Sapphire. Have you seen my cousin? She’s about this tall, cute, plump ass in a skin-tight white strapless dress. Love in her eyes and always happy. It’s annoying really. I’ve seemed to have lost her and found a nosy blonde trying to get me killed instead.”

She rolls her eyes dramatically. “Cute ass, huh? Okay, I’ll take that.” She taps my phone. “I can give them your number if you like. Walk over, drop it on their table.” Her smile is devilish while my expression is closer to a sheet of paper—completely blank.

“Belle, please don’t get me killed. Your brother is sweet and all but I don’t want to get on his bad side.”

“Okay, okay. I get it. I know how miserable you are about thinking you owe Harlon. I just wanted to help. Tell me I didn’t see what I obviously saw between you and those men just a minute ago and I’ll drop it.”

“It was nothing.”

“Did I mention it’s a paying job?”

Lord save me. “Paid to get knocked up?”

“Yep.”

I gulp my margarita, tossing the whole thing back letting my cheeks bulge with the liquid.

I know the second she sees the bruises. The quick, sharp intake of her breath is deafening.

Well, that’s one way to get off the topic of babies and breeding.

There’s not a good enough concealer in the world to hide the black and blue marks marring my skin, but I tried.

“Oh my God, Sapphire! What the holy hell happened?” Her voice climbs and her eyes dart all over. My throat, my bare shoulder. My fingers. “Were you in an accident?”

Worry pours from her.

“Here I was flooding your phone all day with silly selfies and talking babies when you were in trouble and obviously traumatized.”

She weaves the fingers of one hand through mine over the table’s polished top. “Tell me. What the hell happened?”

Using the other she turns my chin left and right no doubt noticing the thumbprint on one side and the four fingers on the other.

“Damn, Sapph, is that a cut? Who did this to you?”

It’s a long shot she’ll drop the subject but I try anyway. “It’s nothing. A misunderstanding at work. It’s all sorted out. Honestly. How about another margarita?”

“Here, take my drink. I’ll get us more. Lots more. Should I cancel my show? Oh, crap.” She glances at her watch. “It’s almost time.”

Her chilled margarita is shoved into my hands. Thank you, sweet baby Jesus.

I start with a small sip which is heaven, the second and third shoot straight to my brain. The rest works to loosen the kinks in my body.

One more of these and I should be good to go.

Belle stops a passing waiter dressed in The Society’s attire. Black dress slacks and crisp white shirt. No name tag.

“Hey, sweetie, will you bring a pitcher and an ice pack please?” Belle moves into momma hen mode. There will be no stopping her now. She was that way growing up and hasn’t changed. It’s just who she is.

“Now tell me everything.” Big brown eyes don’t leave my face as I spill my guts for the next half hour. Snake Eyes, the knife, Riot…everything. It’s what’s great about our relationship. Besides being cousins, we are each other’s confidants.

“I hope Harlon cuts his nuts off and feeds it to him in front of those two assholes who were supposed to help you.” Raking her gaze over my neck again she looks close to picking up the phone and making a few calls. Something her brother, Harlon, does. She may want to think she’s not part of the family business, but it’s in her genes as much as it is mine.

Except, Belle is determined to make her own life and not be shoved into a straight jacket of rules. Only after a few shows, New Orleans has reached out for her to visit and perform. With her men of course. Maybe she’ll be lucky and land one of the first shows in the New York branch if that comes to be.

We clink glasses. Around a mouthful of tequila and salty margarita mix I concur. “I don’t doubt Snaky is wishing for a career change right about now.”

“Speaking of careers, how long before you tell my brother to stick it and you run away with me to New Orleans?”

“As soon as you tell him you’re screwing three guys in the middle of a sex club.”

Her face scrunches at the sight of mine doing the same.

In a low voice, she says, “Would you seriously pass up the chance to have something with those three if you had a chance? C’mon. You can tell me.”

I take her hand in mine. “The problem with that is I owe Harlon. You know that. It doesn’t matter what I want.” I release her fingers and sit back.

“I know he stuck up for you when no one else did. We both did. You did the same when every dickhead in the family wanted to bury him alive for the foursome marriage he had. And now here you are as my rock when I am about to get my freak on in front of a room full of Chicago’s elite. That sounds like tit for tat, babe. You deserve to be happy too and if they do that for you, you should walk over there and offer to buy them a drink.”

“Not happening. Isn’t it almost time for your show?”

Around us, the room is starting to fill with members. There are not many areas left from the looks of it. Belle has attracted quite the audience, the little minx.

“I wish I was as brave as you are. And I wish it was as simple in my head as it is in yours. You want something, you go after it.” I gesture to our surroundings. “Case in point. But for me? I am different. My future is murky at best. And what happened with your uncle?—”

“No.” Her voice is firm. “My uncle was killed because he was an asshole who conspired with your father, only he got caught. Their choices, their consequences. What happened to my uncle is not your fault. But it doesn’t matter what I think. You have to know in your heart of hearts what will make you happy.”

We’ve disagreed on the topic of her uncle for a long time. He was killed by the bounty holder for the money my father stole.

I open my mouth to reply, but she’s already standing, a look of pure joy on her face. “More later, okay?” She whisks me out of the booth and I turn to come face to face with three rugged Navy SEALs. Make that nose to chest.

“Hey sweetheart,” draws one. He’s a southern boy with the down-home charm and irresistible good looks. No wonder Belle is smitten.

He slips a thick arm around her waist while the other two come up on the other side.

Holy crap. Before now I’ve only seen parts of them from a distance. I didn’t actually try to watch the show. I always kept my head down.

Up close I’m stunned by their good looks.

“Ready for tonight, babe?” Comes one placing a slow kiss over my cousin’s exposed collar bone. You know what I’m talking about. The kind of kiss that says I know what we are about to do and it’s going to be hella kinky.

The third comes up behind her. An arm wound tight around her middle right above the others. This isn’t for show either. There’s possession in their touches.

“Mind if we take Belle for a little while? We promise to bring her back safe and sound.” Sexy man number three winks at me, all innocent and sweet.

Oh, God. They are all country boys. The miles of muscles and laid-back attitudes make sense now.

“Gentlemen,” I say with a knowing smile. My poor sweet cousin has no idea she’s playing with fire with these three. The quiet types are always the dangerous ones.

“Just a minute guys, please.” Belle places her hands on either of my shoulders.

How she thinks these three won’t want anything serious is beyond me. The signals are flashing brighter than the sun. Fear and doubt can make seeing difficult though, so I understand.

Brown eyes hook mine. “Belle. I don’t know how you do it.”

She knows what I mean. She smiles softly, looking cute with her sparkling eyes and sexy outfit. Belle’s style is more of a grab-and-go, anything goes and she manages to look like a million bucks.

I caress the palms of my hands over the glittery black mid-thigh dress that took me hours to decide on.

“It’s simple. Once we get going, their hands on me, their mouths doing wicked things…down there, it’s like magic. The audience fades to dull noise and it stops being about the show. It’s me with my men. I enjoy giving others pleasure and if I can help others find their balance in some way, how can I not explore that?”

She has a point.

She puts a hand over my heart. “You should do the same.”

I smooth out a few stray strands of hair near her cheek and give her a quick hug. “Go with your men, sweetie. I’ll be fine. Promise.”

“It looks like tonight might hold something good for the both of us.”

My brows draw together when I pull back from her. “Why?”

She whispers like she wants to tell me the dirtiest of secrets. “Don’t look now but you have visitors coming your way. Now you seek out those bold new adventures and maybe lose that V card to a crew of handsome Bratva.”

“Belle,” I start.

She speaks over me. “Those pretty blues have given you away all week. Don’t lie. Plus, if you stare at them any harder those sapphires will shatter from the pressure.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” I lie.

“The way you’re smoothing those hands over that dress says otherwise. I’ll call you in the morning.”

A teasing wink and Belle slips her hands from my shoulders and takes her lovers’. In a louder voice, she says, “Gentlemen, be careful with her.” With that, she moves away to do her thing with her three southern charmers.

Leaving me with my mouth hinged open. I dare a look over my shoulder and oh, shit.

“ Vsegda ,” husks the blond one sending my back straight. My skin sizzles with heat from the caress of his voice over my senses.

Gregor Zakharov. Why do accents on men have to be so sexy? I have no idea what he said but it came across like a promise.

My eyes connect with his and the instant shock of energy is breathtaking.

Lev Pavlov is standing next to him. The raw hunger in their gazes doesn’t hurt my confidence but I still have to squelch the urge to hit the exit the closer they get.

It’s a hard-wired instinct and nearly impossible to fight against. When predators get too close, my senses hit high alert and these men ooze with intoxicating danger.

I know I should leave, but my feet have a different idea of how this moment should go.

I turn fully to face them, hook a slow smile on my lips dripping with a level of confidence I don’t feel. The Gilded Key is the one place I feel if I were to lose my virginity to a stranger this would be the place to do it.

But they are not strangers and tonight I’m tipsy enough to consider it.