Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

SETH

S eth was reviewing the intelligence they'd managed to put together on the Obsidian Cartel and Nero Valente, the owner of the Citadel, when his phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen and pursed his lips. "Speak of the Devil."

Seth exchanged a look with Hope, who was sitting across from him and poring over some notes. She raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. Without a word, Seth answered the call, putting it on speaker.

"Mr. Valente," Seth greeted, his voice calm and measured.

"Mr. Conway," Valente's voice was smooth, cultured, with just a hint of something darker underneath. "I trust you and your lovely wife are enjoying your new home here in London."

"We are, thank you," Seth replied, maintaining the polite facade. He could feel Hope's gaze on him, sharp and focused.

"Excellent," Valente continued. "I'd like to extend an invitation to the both of you. Dinner at the Citadel, in my private dining room. I believe it's time we got to know each other better."

Seth's heart skipped a beat, but he didn't let it show in his voice. "We'd be honored."

"Splendid. I'll have my car pick you up at seven. Until then, Mr. Conway."

The line went dead, and Seth slowly set the phone down, his mind already racing. Hope was watching him intently, waiting for his take on the invitation.

"That was unexpected," she murmured.

"Very," Seth agreed. "But this could be exactly what we've been waiting for. If Valente is inviting us to his private dining room, it means he's interested. We could bypass Hargrove completely. It's an opportunity we can't pass up."

Hope nodded, her mind already working through the implications. "He's testing us, that's clear. We need to be ready for anything."

"We will be," Seth assured her, though there was a lingering sense of unease in the pit of his stomach. He'd known from the beginning that this mission would be dangerous, but now that they were getting closer to the heart of the cartel, the stakes were higher than ever.

Valente didn't just send a town car or a sedan; he sent a luxury SUV with a complete bar. This time, as they descended the long staircase, Seth took note of possible escape routes and places they might hide to avoid detection. He hoped they'd never need to use them, but it was always best to be prepared. Seth and Hope were escorted into the club by the same driver who had picked them up, a man of few words who guided them through the labyrinthine corridors with practiced ease.

When they reached Valente's private dining room, Seth wasn't sure what to expect. The room was elegantly appointed, the walls lined with rich, dark wood paneling and adorned with expensive artwork. A large, ornate table dominated the center of the room, set for three with gleaming silverware and crystal glasses. Candles flickered in the dim light, casting shadows that danced across the polished surfaces.

Valente was waiting for them, standing by the table with a glass of wine in his hand. He was a tall, imposing man with a presence that commanded attention. His silver hair was perfectly styled, his suit immaculate, and his sharp eyes missed nothing.

"Mr. and Mrs. Conway," Valente greeted them with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Welcome."

"Thank you for having us," Seth replied smoothly, shaking the man's hand.

Hope offered Valente a warm smile as well, playing her part perfectly. "It's a pleasure to be here, Mr. Valente."

"Please, call me Nero," he said, gesturing for them to sit. "We're all friends here."

Seth and Hope took their seats across from Valente, their movements synchronized, their demeanor polished and refined. As they settled in, a team of silent, efficient servers entered the room, bringing out the first course—a delicate dish of seared scallops with a saffron sauce. The meal was exquisite, the wine even more so, and Valente kept the conversation light, asking them about their time in London, their interests, and their experience the other night at the Citadel.

"Everyone who witnessed it said your wife was the most beautifully responsive sub," said Valente, "and we've had several people express an interest in learning how to use a violet wand. Might you consider teaching a class or putting on some kind of demonstration?"

"I wouldn't be opposed to that," said Seth.

"My husband is also a Shibari master," offered Hope.

Seth could feel the undercurrent of tension beneath the surface, the way Valente was watching them, analyzing every word, every gesture. This dinner was more than just a meal—it was a test, a way for Valente to gauge whether or not Seth and Hope were truly who they claimed to be.

Hope played her role flawlessly, engaging in the conversation with a charm and grace that had Valente smiling more than once. Seth kept his responses measured, careful not to reveal too much while still maintaining the illusion of openness.

As they moved on to the main course—a perfectly cooked filet mignon with truffle mashed potatoes—Valente's questions became more pointed, more personal. He asked about their dynamic, how they navigated their D/s relationship, and what brought them to the Citadel in the first place.

Seth and Hope had rehearsed their story countless times, and they delivered it with the ease of a well-practiced routine. They spoke of their shared interest in exploring their desires, of finding a place where they could truly be themselves, and of their admiration for the Citadel's exclusivity and discretion. They kept their story as close to the truth as possible.

Valente listened intently, nodding along as they spoke, but there was a sharpness in his gaze that put Seth on edge. He knew they were walking a fine line; that one wrong move could unravel everything they'd worked for.

When the dinner finally concluded, Valente set his wine glass down and leaned back in his chair, his expression thoughtful. "I must say, you've both been quite the surprise," he said, his tone measured. "It's not often we see new members who are so… aligned with our values."

"We're honored," Seth replied, keeping his tone respectful.

Valente's smile widened slightly. "I think it's time we introduced you to a different side of the Citadel. Something more… intimate."

Seth exchanged a quick glance with Hope, who gave him the faintest nod. "We'd like that," Seth said.

"Excellent." Valente stood, gesturing for them to follow. "Let's head downstairs."

The atmosphere in the club shifted as they descended the stairs to the lower levels of the Citadel. The music grew softer, more sensual, and the lighting dimmed to a soft, ambient glow. The hallways were lined with rooms, some with doors closed, others partially open, revealing glimpses of the activities within.

Valente led them to a spacious room that was designed for performance—a raised platform at the center, surrounded by plush seating. The walls were lined with mirrors that reflected the flickering candlelight, and various pieces of equipment were arranged around the room, waiting to be used.

"This is one of our more private stages," Valente explained, his tone casual. "Only a select few are granted access to this area. I thought it would be the perfect place for you to show us what you're capable of."

Seth could feel the weight of the situation pressing down on him, the expectations that came with Valente's words. They had to deliver, and not just for the sake of the mission. Their very lives could depend on how well they performed here.

He turned to Hope, who was already stepping forward, her eyes calm and focused. She met his gaze, and he could see the unspoken understanding between them. They were in this together; she trusted him, and whatever Valente threw at them, they would get through it. The seats were filled with spectators.

Seth led her up onto the stage—which was dominated by a large St. Andrew's cross. Like the one the night before, it was heavily padded and covered in buttery-soft leather. Once he'd removed her clothing, he put her in four-point restraints and then examined the various implements that had been left for him to choose from. Without asking her, he segregated out three small, glass, antique Hemingray insulators, filling each with a measure of whiskey. Using one of the nearby candles, Seth lit the whiskey in the first one on fire.

Once the fire was out, he slid his hand between her legs, grateful that he'd managed to play with her at dinner so that she had become highly aroused and remained so. He rimmed the larger end of the cup with her honey before setting it against her breast, covering her nipple. It was drawn up and into the insulator by the suction that was created by the air inside it cooling.

Hope sucked in her breath, biting her lower lip.

Satisfied the cup would remain attached, Seth repeated the procedure with a second insulator to fully arouse her other nipple.

"You'll notice that the first insulator, or cup, is beginning to really draw and redden her skin. For the most part, it's more of a mind fuck than anything else."

Hope groaned as she arched her body into him, her entire body shaking with need. Those in the audience applauded.

He held up the third insulator, showing it to the audience as he dramatically poured the whiskey into it and let it burn as he twisted it in the flickering light.

Seth stroked her sex again. "So wet for me."

He thrust his fingers in and out of her pussy, making her undulate in response before he sealed the cup firmly to her clit. The final vacuum formed, her nipples and clit all being suckled. Hope's back arched as she cried out. Attaching small pieces of plastic tubing to the tops of the insulators and the other end to a small hand pump, Seth began gently squeezing it to increase the suction.

Carefully, he removed the pump and tubing without disturbing the insulators. He leaned in to kiss her and barely tapped the one between her legs. It was enough to send her over the edge as pleasure rocketed through her system.

The audience applauded, and Seth took a bow before opening a small valve that was barely discernible on the tip of each insulator, releasing it gently so he could ease it from her red, swollen nipples. He took each in his mouth as he did so, sucking it to ease the sharp pain into more of a dull ache. He released her clit but did not apply his mouth to her and let the pain shock her back into reality as he unbuckled the restraints at her ankles that bound her to the cross.

He skimmed his hands up her sides, using his body to press her into the cross, his thigh coming between her legs so that when he released her wrists, she collapsed on his thigh and not on the floor. As he had anticipated, she sagged against him without the restraints to hold her upright.

Seth swept her up in his arms as the audience cheered. He knew the pleasure and scene had been intense, but he was also fairly sure she would be able to recover quickly.

"Can I assume someone will clean up the area for me?"

"Of course, Mr. Conway," said Gwendolyn, who had appeared out of nowhere. She snapped her fingers, and scantily clad attendants came to do her bidding. "Allow me to show you to one of our privacy rooms where your wife can recover. I must say, that was exhilarating. Your wife is a lucky woman."

The audience—a small, select group of Valente's most trusted associates—had watched with rapt attention as they executed the scene with precision and control. The energy in the room was electric, the tension palpable, but Seth's focus never wavered from Hope. He needed to ensure she was coming down and that she could focus. If he didn't feel she was safe, he'd get her out of here, and they'd try again.

Every touch, every command, every moment of connection between them had been real, but it had also been carefully calculated and designed to draw the audience in, in order to make them believe in the illusion they were creating.

He passed by Valente and several men unknown to them, who had been watching from the shadows. Valente stepped forward; his expression unreadable. "Well done," he said, his voice low. "I must admit, I'm impressed."

"Thank you," Seth replied, his tone even, though he could feel the residual adrenaline coursing through his veins.

Valente gave them a nod of approval. "My associates and I have been called away on business. Gwendolyn will take you to one of my private rooms for the rest of the evening. Consider it appreciation for a job well done."

Seth inclined his head in acknowledgment. "Thank you."

With that, Valente turned and left the room, his associates following close behind. Once they were alone, Seth let out a slow breath, the tension in his shoulders finally easing.

"We did it," Hope murmured, her voice soft as she stepped closer to him.

Seth nodded, cradling her close. "Yeah, we did. But we're not done yet."

They followed Gwendolyn to the private room they'd been given, a luxurious space with a large bed, plush seating, and soft, ambient lighting. The door closed behind them with a soft click before Seth walked with her to a large, wingback chair, taking a seat and holding her close, letting her drift back to reality.

"You did so good, Hope. You were amazing. If you don't feel up to it, we can come back another time."

"I'm fine, Seth. That was amazing."

"No, sweetheart, you were amazing."

Seth could still feel the lingering effects—the adrenaline, the heat, the way every nerve in his body seemed to be on high alert. He knew Hope was forcing herself to leave subspace. She hadn't settled back to her usual state of focused calm, but she was getting there.

"We need to shake this off," he said quietly, his voice cutting through the silence. "We've got work to do."

Hope nodded, her eyes meeting his with a clarity that he found both reassuring and arousing.

"I'll set up the computer station," she said, her voice steadier than her attempts at standing. Once she was able, she removed her small computer device from beneath Seth's shirt and moved toward the bathroom.

Seth watched her go, his gaze lingering on the way her body moved, the way the shadows played across her skin. She was focused, determined, but there was something undeniably sexy about the way she threw herself back into her work, the way she could switch from one role to another with such ease.

He followed her to the bathroom, where she was already setting up the small, portable computer station on the counter. The room was small but luxurious, with marble countertops and gleaming fixtures. It was also the perfect place to set up, away from any potential cameras that might be monitoring the main room.

Hope worked quickly, her fingers flying across the keyboard as she accessed the club's internal systems. Seth stood in the doorway, watching her with a mixture of admiration and desire. She was brilliant, laser-focused, and utterly captivating.

As she worked, Seth could feel the pull to stay by her side and protect her from whatever dangers might be lurking in the shadows. But he knew he had his own part to play, his own mission to complete. He needed to slip out and do his own reconnaissance while Valente was occupied elsewhere.

"Hope," he said, his voice low and urgent. "I need to go check out the office. This is our best chance."

She paused, looking up at him with those clear, determined eyes. "I'll be fine," she said, her voice steady. "You need to go."

Seth hesitated, torn between the need to protect her and the knowledge that they couldn't afford to miss this opportunity. "I don't like leaving you here alone," he admitted, his voice gruff with worry.

Hope gave him a small, reassuring smile. "I can handle myself, Seth. Go. We don't have much time."

He stared at her for a moment longer, then nodded, his resolve hardening. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

She nodded, already turning back to her work, her focus once again on the task at hand. Seth slipped out of the bathroom and moved toward the door, his mind already shifting to the next part of the mission.

He made his way through the hallways of the Citadel, his steps careful and deliberate. The club was quieter now; most of the guests were either occupied in their private rooms or enjoying the more public areas. Seth's destination was the office, a place where he could gather information and, if possible, plant a few bugs.

He verified Valente's whereabouts before heading in the direction of the office, his heart pounding in his chest as he navigated the winding corridors. Just as he rounded a corner, he nearly collided with Basil Hargrove, the man's sharp eyes narrowing as he took in Seth's presence.

"Mr. Conway," Hargrove said, his tone suspicious. "What are you doing wandering the halls? Shouldn't you be with your wife?"

Seth forced a sheepish smile, playing the part of the slightly clueless husband. "I wanted to get some juice for Hope. There was water, but she could really use the boost from the natural sugar. She's still coming down from the scene, and I didn't think to ask for something before we left the main area."

Hargrove's gaze didn't soften, though his expression became slightly amused. "Surely you know by now that anything you need can be brought to you? You really shouldn't be leaving her during aftercare."

Seth nodded, playing along with Hargrove's assumptions. "You're right, of course. I'm still getting used to how things work around here."

Before Hargrove could respond, an alarm suddenly blared through the corridor, a loud, shrill sound that sent a jolt of fear through Seth's system. It could only mean one thing—Hope had triggered something in the system.

Hargrove's eyes widened, and he immediately turned, ready to dash toward the source of the alarm. But Seth acted quickly, grabbing Hargrove's arm and putting on a helpless act. "What's happening? Are we in danger? I need to get back to my wife!"

Hargrove shook him off, clearly annoyed but too focused on the alarm to deal with Seth's questions. "Wait here," he snapped. "I'll handle this."

Without another word, Hargrove ran toward the office, his steps quick and purposeful. Seth watched him go, his heart racing, before taking the opportunity to turn and sprint back to Hope. As he ran, he couldn't shake the feeling that the real danger had only just begun.