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Chapter 12

GRACE

When I’d agreed to intern for the Blades PR and marketing department, I hadn’t realized that I’d end up having to listen to why Brady Carmichael was terrible for the brand.

“How do we rein this guy in?” Julia, my boss and the PR manager, asked. She swiveled her laptop around to show us her social media feed. “Or better yet, how do we spin this to our advantage?”

In an unfortunate twist, the internet had turned Brady’s fight with Riley into a meme that had spread like wildfire. I’d seen the memes splashed across the internet. Some were rather funny, but I couldn’t admit that out loud.

What was worse, though, was that The Fight wasn’t about to disappear anytime soon. It’d also fueled Brady’s reputation as an asshole who didn’t care about rules.

Which, normally, wouldn’t be a negative. But there was a narrative going around that Brady was unhinged and had punched Riley just because he could.

Every day, I wanted to tell the world that Brady had been defending me. But I also knew Brady wouldn’t thank me for speaking up.

Not that I’ve even talked to Brady since Vegas . He was avoiding me. Why, I didn’t know.

So much for his promises about not playing hot and cold anymore.

“Do we know why Brady punched Riley?” Garrett, my fellow PR intern, asked.

Julia shook her head. “No, but at this point, I’m not sure it’d matter. The narrative that Brady was the aggressor is out there. It’s harder to undo something than get ahead of the narrative. Which I blame myself for.”

“You had a bunch of other stuff going on then,” Sara, Julia’s assistant, pointed out sagely.

“So? That’s not an excuse.”

It hadn’t helped that Julia had so many other projects, not to mention that the two other PR folks had been out on vacation. So it’d just been me and Garrett. As interns, we just followed directions.

And Julia had told us to bury the story instead of trying to fight it.

“We need to push new stories about Brady,” said Julia, sighing. “What charities is he involved in? Make-A-Wish? The ASPCA? We need photo ops, interviews, whatever it takes. We need to show the world that he’s a decent guy, even if it’s a lie.”

I bristled at that assertion. Brady was decent. He was kind and thoughtful, and although he could be impulsive, he meant well.

But I had to bite my tongue because I knew I’d reveal too much if I started defending Brady out of the blue. The last thing I needed was for my coworkers to think there was a conflict of interest with me being an intern.

“There’s a new dance trend that we could have the guys do,” offered Garrett. He pulled out his phone and began showing us examples.

Julia looked over at me. “Do you have anything, Grace?”

I knew that Julia wasn’t a huge fan of allowing the coach’s daughter to be an intern here. Since I’d joined the team, even temporarily, Julia hadn’t given me much in the way of assignments. The few that I had done had been my idea to show that I was serious about this job.

But now, put on the spot, my brain stuttered to a halt.

“Uh, let me brainstorm,” I said.

Julia looked annoyed. “Nothing? Okay, then.”

Right then, I remembered a new trend I’d seen online just this morning.

“It’s basically famous people doing those interviews with puppies or kittens. We could do that with Brady and maybe another teammate. Give them a bunch of cute baby animals that they can play with on camera,” I said.

Julia thought for a moment. “Hmm, that might work. But we’d also have to find somebody to get us puppies.”

“Or kittens,” I added.

“Contact somebody at the humane society,” Julia said to Garrett. “And we’ll go from there.”

Garrett shot me a wry look. Julia loved to pile on tasks for Garrett while ignoring me. At least this time, she seemed to like my idea.

After that, Julia created a master plan and gave us our individual tasks, even including me in some.

Fortunately—or unfortunately—I wasn’t given anything that involved Brady.

As we got up to leave, Garrett leaned down to whisper in my ear, “I need to talk to you.”

I blinked in surprise but nodded. We found an empty office. When Garrett kept looking around like he was afraid someone was listening, I felt a frisson of unease.

“I got a text today from a source about Brady,” said Garrett. “Apparently he’s going to the same sex club as Mac was caught going to.”

“What? And how . . . ?”

Garrett grinned. “I have my ways.”

“Have you told Julia yet?”

“No. I’m not sure I will. She’ll just freak out.” Garrett shrugged. “I appreciated that Mac came out and said in that interview with his girlfriend that it wasn’t anybody’s business what he did in his bedroom. So if Brady wants to get freaky on his downtime, who cares?”

I sat down heavily. “The public will care.”

And I had to admit, I cared. The thought of Brady enjoying himself with other women like that made my stomach hurt. Mostly because I wished he would enjoy himself with me.

“Maybe, maybe not. But my source just had a sighting of Brady. No photo or video. So it might not have been him,” said Garrett.

I sighed. “Why are you telling me all this?”

“Because you and Brady are friends, right?”

I hadn’t realized anyone knew anything about us. “He’s kind of part of my family, I guess you could say.”

“So I thought you might want to know. Use the information as you will.”

“And what if I decide to blast it all over the internet?”

Garrett snorted. “Yeah, right. You and I both know you won’t.”

I didn’t know whether to be annoyed or amused. Garrett and I weren’t exactly friends, but we were friendly. I hadn’t realized he’d pegged me so easily.

After that conversation, though, I knew I needed to warn Brady. He needed to be careful. The world had its eye on him, and one more fuckup could ruin his career.

I texted Garrett before I could think about what I was doing. Where’s this club anyway?

Garrett replied quickly with the address. Dunno how you get in tho. Apparently you need a password.

I wondered how Garrett’s source had gotten in. The source must be a club member. I could only guess that this person didn’t want to give out a password that could be linked back to them.

With the address in hand, I went to a nearby lingerie store to find something to wear. I’d heard enough about Mac’s exploits to know that this club wasn’t one where you just went inside wearing jeans and a T-shirt. I got changed before I left the store. I’m glad that I’d worn my trench coat to work today since it was always freezing in the air conditioning.

I picked out a bra and panty set that was red and lacy, something I’d never worn before. What the hell am I doing?

I was doing research. That was all. There was no other reason that I was trying to learn why Brady wanted to spend his time at a sex club instead of with me.

I drove to the address, but when I got there, I wondered whether I’d gotten the address wrong. On the corner was a nondescript office building that seemed to house a marketing company and not much else.

I parked my car and frowned. I sat and watched, pondering my next move, when I saw a few people go to an unmarked door and knock.

A large man answered. And then the couple were ushered inside, the door shutting quickly behind them.

I knew I couldn’t hesitate. I went near the unmarked door and hid behind a dumpster, waiting for someone else to arrive.

I was about to give up when a lone man arrived.

“Password?” the door guy asked after the single guy knocked.

“Pineapple,” the man said.

I waited until the lone guy went inside. Then, with my heart racing, I decided to try my luck.

When the door guy answered my knock, I didn’t even wait for him to ask me for a password.

“Pineapple!” I squeaked.

The door guy narrowed his eyes at me. Then, to my utter astonishment, he let me inside.

I couldn’t believe it. As another man escorted me down a long hallway, I half expected someone to jump from the shadows and demand why I was there.

And then I was inside the club: the Scarlet Rope.

The difference between the hallway and the club itself was stark. The club was dimly lit, but as luxurious as the rest of the building was nondescript. The foyer had a chandelier straight out of a fairy tale. There were velvet settees and couches scattered about.

And there were all kinds of people, some dressed in next to nothing, while others were in suits or slinky gowns. Many patrons wore masks. When I came inside still wearing my trench coat, I felt strangely exposed.

“Your coat, madam,” a man said to me.

I blinked. Then, with shaking hands, I handed him my coat, clad only in the red lingerie I’d just purchased.

Nobody seemed concerned about my near nudity. I caught a few people—men and women both—shooting me appreciative glances, but that was it.

I was grateful for how warm the club was. It’d have to be, given how scantily dressed everyone was.

I took a deep breath. I’d come this far. I couldn’t lose my nerve now.

I considered getting a drink but then thought better of it. I wanted to keep my wits about me. I had no idea what really went down in this place and needed to be careful.

“I’ve never seen you around before,” a woman remarked.

She was wearing a thong and nothing else. Her breasts were large, the areolas sparkling in the low light. I realized that she’d put glitter all over her torso.

“Um, it’s my first night,” I stammered.

The woman smiled, her teeth flashing. “Oh, I can tell a virgin when I see one.”

I flushed. She could tell that just by looking at me? But then I realized she just meant I was a virgin for coming to the club.

“A word of advice,” the woman said. “Be choosy. You don’t have to say yes to the first person who talks to you. I didn’t let anyone touch me during my first three visits. Scope things out. Take your time. There’s no rush.”

I thanked her for her advice, not wanting to admit that I had zero intention of letting anybody touch me.

I didn’t even know where I’d start, for one. How did I just go up to a person and ask them to have sex with me? The mere thought almost made me laugh out loud.

I was a good girl. I didn’t have sex with strangers. Hell, I didn’t have sex at all! I was still a virgin at the ripe age of twenty-two. I hadn’t even wanted to sleep with Will, my ex-boyfriend.

You know why you’ve been saving yourself . But I pushed that thought aside. Brady had already told me in no uncertain terms that nothing could ever happen between us.

I was soon arrested by everything happening around me. The Scarlet Rope was unlike anything I could’ve imagined. I thought it was maybe some sleazy basement dungeon, but it was ... classy.

The nudity, the sex, the air of mystery and desire. It all gathered together to create this aura that I found fascinating, even if I wasn’t brave enough to embrace it for myself.

As I passed through one of the main hallways, I was able to watch some of the scenes that anyone in the club could also view. The scenes ranged from straightforward, penis-in-vagina sex to BDSM to orgies to roleplay.

One scene had six participants, three men and three women. The women seemed to be the Dommes in this scenario. They each were equipped with whips that they used liberally on their subs. The men were on their knees, begging for more, the dominatrices giving their subs catlike smiles.

One Domme yanked on her sub’s hair so hard that it wrenched his head back.

I couldn’t quite make out what anyone was saying, but it didn’t really matter. You could see what they wanted on their faces and the way they moved their bodies.

Another Domme pushed her sub forward into her pussy. He began lapping at her as her head went back in ecstasy.

I blushed to the roots of my hair. I was probably as red as the lingerie I’d impulsively bought.

I kept wandering. The next scene was two men. One man was bent over the arm of a plush couch, while his partner pounded into him. The sounds of the slaps of flesh against flesh made the hair on the back of my neck stand.

It was mesmerizing. I’d never seen people so unabashed in their sexuality. It made me wonder how they could become so open about something I was still trying to understand about myself.

I also wondered whether Brady was the type to be a part of these scenes. Did he like when others watched him? Or did he prefer his exploits to remain private?

The green-eyed snake of jealousy bit into my heart. I hated the thought of Brady being with other women even though he wasn’t mine. I had no right to expect him to abstain.

But it hurt all the same. Because those women got a side of him he’d told me I would never, ever see.

I kept walking. A few men complimented my lingerie, one even going so far as to suggest we find somewhere private. I stumbled through the interaction, but the man was kind when I said no.

He handed me a card and said, “If you change your mind.” He winked and kept walking.

I stared at the card, tried to put it in my purse, and then realized I didn’t have it with me. And I didn’t exactly have any pockets, either. I stuffed it into my bra as a last resort.

When I got to a room with a masked man whipping a woman, I was immediately enthralled. It helped that the man was ripped. From his shoulders to his stomach to his legs, he clearly worked out.

He also seemed to know what he was doing. The woman, who was face down on the bed, wiggled and moaned with each lash of the whip.

He reminds me of Brady, I thought to myself.

Looking at him more closely, I realized it was Brady. I’d recognize him anywhere. Even wearing a mask, I knew it was him.

I couldn’t move. I didn’t know how to feel about the scene before me. I was enthralled, sure, but I was also jealous. Hurt. Amazed. Confused.

Brady kept whipping the woman, harder and harder, until red welts rose on her back. I swallowed hard. I had no idea he enjoyed that kind of sex.

Brady walked around the woman and flipped her over before tying her up. He said something to her and then went toward where I was standing.

I almost bolted. But he couldn’t see through the two-way mirror, right?

But when his gaze landed on me, he stopped in his tracks. We stared at each other for the longest moment of my life.

“Grace?” he mouthed.

So much for two-way mirrors, I thought before Brady stalked from the room.

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