by Sienna Snow
“You’re both right and wrong.”
“I don’t understand.”
“The man who’s become your best friend sent me an advance copy of Vogue. He feels guilty for the fact his grandson lives on a different continent because of his manipulation.”
She remained quiet, as if processing what I said.
“Are you surprised?”
“Honestly, no.” She sighed and shook her head. “Collin is on a mission to fix the mistakes of the past. It makes me sad to see the guilt he carries on his shoulders.”
Her face grew sad for a second.
What had Collin said to get her to forgive him and make her genuinely care for him so much?
“What I don’t understand is why he decided to tell you before letting me know? As far as anyone knows, none of his sons are on speaking terms with him.”
“He thinks we’re going to be one happy family.”
“That’s impossible. Christopher and I live in Greece. At the end of the summer, we’ll go back.”
That was just a few months from now.
“Then what do you suggest?”
“Why don’t you tell me? You had to have had a plan. Was pretending to want me part of the plan to get my defenses down?”
“The attraction between us is authentic. I don’t need to feign interest.”
“Then what do you want?”
“What do you think the price of my silence should be? After all, you’re the one telling me I can never claim my own child, a child you stole and gave to another man.”
“I don’t know,” she said warily.
Well, fuck. Until this moment, I hadn’t thought of anything but getting in Amelia’s face and confronting her about Christopher. It was what had driven me since I learned the truth about the past. Now here she was, ready to do anything for my silence, and I had no idea what to say.
Who the hell was I? I’d never had a hard time knowing what I had to do.
We both remained quiet for a few minutes, staring at each other. Then a thought came to me.
“I want you as my submissive. I want you to surrender all that tightly held control. I want to fuck you every night for the foreseeable future.”
She swallowed as a flush crept up her cheeks, and her eyes dilated.
“I told you I don’t do casual sex. I’ve only been with two men in my life.”
“It won’t be casual. There’s more.” I paused, knowing I was going to hell for what I was about to say. “We’re already tied through Christopher for the rest of our lives. One more connection shouldn’t matter.”
“I’m not following.”
“In compensation for giving my son to another man and my silence, I want a child of my own.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“Dead serious.”
Anger flared in her eyes, as did hurt. “I will never have a child just to give him or her up. This discussion is over.”
She shifted to leave, but I stopped her with a hand on her arm.
“I never said you would have to give our child up.”
“Then what, Pierce? I might even consider sleeping with you again, but a child is off the table.”
“How about this? If by the end of the summer you aren’t pregnant then we go our separate ways. The only price I will ask for my silence is that I be part of Christopher’s life in some capacity.”
“But if I am pregnant?”
I was definitely going to hell.
“Then you marry me.”
Chapter Ten
Amelia
* * *
“Penny, we need to talk,” I said the second I pulled open the doors to Penny’s Firewater lab situated in a set of warehouses on the outskirts of Vegas. It was past work hours, so I knew she’d be holed up in here alone until Hagen carted her home.
On a typical day, I’d be excited to get a peek of her newly renovated and super-high-tech place where she’d created her hundred-million-dollar whiskey empire. But I was too damned pissed off at Pierce, Collin, and her to care.
She was sitting in the corner looking into a microscope with protection goggles on her face.
“I can’t believe you didn’t let me know that Pierce knew about Christopher. You’re supposed to be my best friend. Why would you keep something so important from me?”
Penny rolled back from her workstation and gave me a worried look. Yeah, she should be scared.
“I wanted to tell you, but Hagen said it was something you had to work out with Pierce.”
Her lab coat was stained with amber and brown spots, and her hair was tied in a messy bun atop her head. She was gorgeous with her mixed Greek and Indian heritage. Only she could look stylish while the rest of us would look like a rumpled hot mess in the same attire.
“Oh yeah. We’re working it out, all right. That man is insane! It’s a wonder I didn’t punch him in the face. And believe me, if I had, his nose would be broken right now.”
My temper hadn’t calmed since I walked out of the meeting with Pierce. The only satisfaction I could get was the shock on his face when I told him to shove his proposal up his ass and that I’d rather see him in court. Maybe I shouldn’t have added the last part, but he couldn’t expect me to have another child with him, much less marry him.
“Did he propose the joint custody option Hagen and Zack had drawn up?”
Well, it looked like my best friend knew even more than I thought.
“Not even close. For his silence about Christopher’s parentage, he wants me to fuck him until the end of the summer. And then, if I’m pregnant, I’m supposed to marry him, with the option to spend half the year in Las Vegas and the other half running my business in Greece.”
“You’re kidding.” She stood and began to pace.
I cocked one hand on my hip and pointed to myself with the other. “Does this look like the face of someone who is kidding?”
She lifted a brow. “Well, it’s not like you don’t want to sleep with him.”
“Don’t even joke. I’m so mad at you right now. You broke girl code. And on top of everything else, Collin was the mastermind behind Pierce learning about Christopher.”
She winced, telling me she knew all the details.
“What did you say to Pierce?”
I glared at her as if she was stupid. “I am not sleeping with him or having another child with him.”
I plopped down on a vacant chair near a bank of beakers, folding my arms across my body.
“I doubt sleeping is what he wants to do with you. From what I hear, he’s into the kink side of things. Hell, he owns private clubs in all of the HPZ properties.”
A surge of jealousy coursed through me. I’d heard the rumors and knew firsthand where Pierce’s tastes lay. I also understood how BDSM clubs worked. One didn’t need to be in a committed partnership to engage in scenes. All that was required was consent and safe sex.
“If he can get his rocks off with a submissive any time he wants, why does he want me?”
Penny walked up to me and leaned down, resting a hand on the armrests of my chair. She almost looked like a disappointed teacher about to give me a lecture.
Why was she glaring at me when I was the one who should be pissed off at her?
“Just because he owns them doesn’t mean he participates often. From what Hagen said, ever since the negotiations started for the Regalia-Davis fight, he’s only visited the clubs for business purposes.”
“I doubt Pierce is going to tell his brothers every time he gets laid. I’ve seen the tabloid pictures. He’s never short on companions.”
“He may not share the details, but he isn’t a guy for casual sex. His last girlfriend was over six months ago. He hasn’t been seen with anyone since then. He is a relationship kind of guy and monogamous to the core. The volatile, fly-by-the-seat-of-his-pants, asshole image he has going is just that, an image, not the truth.”
Her words felt like a direct hit to the heart. He’d spent the last ten years thinking I cheated on
him. Even the world thought I cheated on him with Stavros.
“Then why does he want me? I destroyed his heart.”
She sat down heavily and frowned. “You really have no clue, do you?”
“No, I don’t. Why don’t you tell me, my genius, analytical, scientist friend?”
“Amelia. You are so hard headed. The only reason a man wants to impregnate a woman so he can force her into marrying him is because he is still in love with her. The keeping his silence part is just his way of protecting himself.”
I’d have laughed at how crazy her words sounded, if it didn’t make me long for it to be true. But I knew otherwise.
“He’s not in love with me. He wants me in his bed—it’s the price for keeping my secret.”
“This is a win-win.”
“I can’t believe you’re saying this to me. I’m not opening that Pandora’s box. I can see disaster written all over it and I’ll be the one left hurt.”
“That’s true. You’ll be fucked not only literally but also emotionally and mentally.”
“Thanks for rephrasing what I said so eloquently, Miss Smartypants.”
She stuck her tongue out, reminding me of how thankful I was for the friendship that was unconditional and had survived two decades and a continent apart. And just like that, my temper had calmed—well, with her anyway. I could never stay mad at her, no matter how hard I tried.
We’d been all of eight years old when we’d first met. She was the mousy yet feisty horticulture export-import heiress and me the new girl in school with a thick Greek accent. Penny had come to my defense and punched a boy twice her size when he made fun of me for “talking weird.” From that day, we were thick as thieves and more like sisters than friends.
“So are you still mad at me?”
I pursed my lips and muttered, “Yes.”
“Liar.” She laughed. “So are you going to let him know that you can’t have any more children?”
During Christopher’s birth, I’d had major complications that resulted in a lot of scarring. The doctors pretty much told me the chances of me carrying another child were slim to none.
Knowing Christopher wouldn’t have siblings broke my heart. I’d grown up an only child and always wished for a sister or brother. Stavros had suggested getting a surrogate who would carry my egg and a donor sperm, but we’d decided against it. The fallout would be too high, especially if the media got wind of it.
“No, because I’m not sleeping with Pierce now or ever again.”
She coughed “bullshit” and then gave me an innocent smile.
“You’re such an ass. It’s going to take me a long time to get over your treachery. And no, I don’t want a bottle of your secret reserve whiskey. I can barely drink two shots without it going to my head.”
I was a flyweight on a good day. Probably because it was frowned upon for any Thanos to be caught with a drink in their hand. We had to set an example, or so my deceased mother-in-law had drilled into my head.
“There has to be a way I can make it up to you.”
“Let me think.” I tapped my lips. “I know. Tell me more about these clubs in the hotels. They have to be secret, since I doubt any of the brothers would want the public to know they have a kink club on any of their premises, much less all of them.”
“I knew it. Behind that all-business, conservative façade, you’re a freak who likes to be spanked, tied up, and fucked.”
“You read way too many romance novels.”
She snorted. “You’re one to talk. Who gave me my first kissing book?”
“Whatever. So are you going to tell me about them or not?”
“Why not?”
A little after ten in the evening, I walked into the Ida. I tightened the belt of my long, lightweight, black coat and made my way through the casino, following the directions Penny had given me to the Diávolos Lounge.
When I’d grilled Penny on the clubs, I had no intention of visiting any of them, but then as she described Diávolos, she made it sound like no club I’d ever been to before. Kink clubs weren’t something new to me—I’d visited plenty—but this was my chance to see what one designed by Pierce looked like. And so I’d convinced Penny to arrange for admission to the secret club.
I worked my way around a crowd that was admiring the flowers outside of the botanical garden. And then up a set of stairs. This resort always took my breath away. I loved the unique mix of ultra-modern straight lines and fixtures with splashes of vibrant color.
When I came to the place Penny said was the club, I didn’t see any indication of a lounge anywhere. That was when I noticed a bouncer in a tailored suit with his arms crossed, standing in a corner.
I walked up to him and said the password Penny said members used to enter the club, “apagorevménos,” meaning forbidden.
The bouncer studied me for a moment, then nodded, letting me pass by pushing a wall that opened into a dimly lit hallway. A distant echo of music gave the invitation to enter the main lounge.
I slid a black lace mask over my face and worked my way toward the sound, coming to a reception room with a hostess.
She was a beautiful brunette with blond highlights in various shades. Her deep almond skin and hazel eyes gave away her Middle Eastern heritage. She was petite, dressed in a black silk minidress.
“Hello. I’m Bridgett. Are you a new member?”
“No. I’m a guest for the night.” I passed her a card. It was another gift from Penny. With it, I could enjoy the club at my leisure. Or that was what she’d told me when she’d given it to me.
“Please review the club rules and sign in,” Bridgett instructed, pushing a folder in my direction.
I quickly read the documents and scrolled my signature. They were standard protocols about consent, safety, and protection.
Bridgett gestured to a man I hadn’t noticed standing in the corner.
“José will take your coat. When you’re ready to leave, he’ll retrieve it for you.”
I slipped off my coat and felt the cool air hit my skin. I’d chosen to wear a two-piece black-and-ivory corset ensemble of lace and satin with black thigh highs and heels.
Bridgett set a laminated paper on top of the counter next to a basket that held bracelets in various sizes and colors.
“Here is a list of what each band means. Always know you never have to participate unless you desire. But the bands make it easier for the guests to decipher your preference.”
I looked over the band descriptions. Black meant heterosexual, attached dominant; and purple with a black line in the middle meant bisexual, unattached submissive; and everything in between.
I picked a pink with a red line in the middle, stating to anyone who saw it that I was a submissive observer. It allowed me to play voyeur and made it clear to any Dominant interested in me that I wasn’t available.
During my various travels, I’d explored a few of the clubs throughout Europe, always as an observer, never a participant, and always anonymous. There was something about the environment that called to me. Stavros had joined me a few times, but I’d known it wasn’t his thing and he’d stopped going with me altogether a few years before he passed away.
“You’re all set. Follow the path behind the curtain. Enjoy your evening.”
“Thank you.”
I made my way to a room filled with couples and groups enjoying cocktails and food. It had a jazz-lounge atmosphere. Most of the clubs I’d visited had a common area where patrons could socialize. The only difference between normal clubs and this one was the attire of the guests—from gowns to barely-there lingerie for the women, and three-piece suits to speedos for the men. The states of dress and undress represented their status, submissive or Dom.
The sense of hedonism in the air made my skin prickle with awareness. An attractive Latino man in fitted jeans and a black T-shirt scanned me from head to toe and back, lingering on my wristband. My body instinctively reacted.
Definitely a Dom. His
band was black with a thin white line going down the center, telling me he was a heterosexual, unattached Dominant.
What would it be like to participate, just once? I shook the thought away. Fantasizing about it was one thing, but doing it was another. I wasn’t into casual sex. Sex meant too much to me.
I noticed a group going up a set of stairs and decided to follow. The second I reached the landing, I saw the unique setup of the public playrooms giving the illusion of privacy, with the exception of the tables and chairs placed for optimal viewing of the action in the rooms.
I licked my dry lips and moved to observe one of the rooms. Three couples were engaged in hard sex, oblivious to anything but the people in the scene with them. Every few minutes they switched partners.
That was definitely not my thing. I moved to another room and was immediately mesmerized. A beautiful blond woman was bound to a St. Andrew’s Cross while her Dom circled her. He stroked her with every pass, touching her breasts, stomach, thighs, face, or legs, but never touching the one place she wanted him to. She writhed against the cross, moaning at the displeasure of being denied. He murmured words of love and affection with a little sweet teasing. They both wore wristbands in addition to wedding rings, telling me they were a committed couple. The Dom stopped touching his submissive, moving to the back of the room and picking up a soft-tailed bullwhip. My breath hitched as he snapped the leather over and over, not touching his submissive but making it very clear to her that he would caress her with the sting of it.
My nipples hardened as I thought about what it would feel like to have a whip heat my skin. Arousal throbbed a slow, steady beat between my legs, almost matching the music playing over the speakers. I wanted to press my thighs together but stayed still.
When the Dom landed the first strike, I couldn’t help but gasp as if I were the one struck, as if Pierce were the one doing it. I wanted so desperately to feel the pleasurable pain of the whip’s bite. To have it bring me to the cusp of orgasm until one strategic flick of a wrist had me going over.
I watched, enthralled as the Dom did exactly as I fantasized about. By the time the scene ended and the Dom darkened the glass observation windows, I was hot, aroused, and dripping with sweat. Added to it was the fact I was annoyed with myself for imagining Pierce as the man wielding the whip.
