Page 17

Lincoln

I can tell something’s off the moment we’re ushered into the private section of Club Greed. The music here is softer than the pounding bass in the main area—more of a sultry lounge vibe than a full-blown rave. I was half expecting to walk into something wild and raucous, but instead, the atmosphere is strangely subdued. Soft pink and gold lights illuminate couples dancing in a mini-ballroom area off to the right, and a cluster of plush white couches lines the left wall, where people drape themselves, and are either whispering or making out.

A hostess in a sleek black dress greets us, offering us complimentary champagne flutes. Her smile is polished, but her eyes flick across me and Isabel with a hint of curiosity. Before either of us can ask a question, she guides us deeper into the room, murmuring, “Enjoy your evening,” then disappears back to the entrance.

I cast a quick glance at Isabel, who’s got her hand hooked around my arm. Her expression is poised, but I sense her nerves in the light tremor of her fingers. The memory of our kiss—of how we practiced being husband and wife in a way that felt anything but pretend—burns fresh in my mind. It stokes a warm coil of tension at the base of my spine, but I force myself to focus on the mission.

We weave past the slow-dancing couples, the gentle rhythm of a low-tempo track filling the air. The dancers move in unhurried circles, bodies pressed close in a way that’s definitely more than friendly. A few of them glance our way, flashing smiles or winks as we pass. The entire room seems to hum with a current of possibility, but I’m acutely aware we’re here for one reason: to find leads on Morris Rolfe.

Isabel leans in toward me, her voice pitched low. “So much for a big, exclusive party. It feels more like… a meetup?”

I nod, scanning the space for familiar faces. “Yeah. Let’s ask around. See if anyone knows where Morris is.”

She exhales slowly, and we exchange a brief look of determination. Then I guide her by the waist to the far side of the mini-ballroom. There’s a small group of people chatting—two men and a woman, all dressed in high-end evening wear that probably costs as much as my entire monthly paycheck. I force a relaxed smile, slipping into character as the confident husband just out for a sultry good time.

But the moment we approach, one of the men shakes his head apologetically. “I’m sorry, we haven’t seen Morris. He and Devereaux sometimes skip these smaller meets.” He sips from his glass, shrugging. “This is more like a… how would I put it… an introduction night. See who’s interested in the bigger events.”

Isabel stiffens beside me, but she plasters on a practiced smile, laying a gentle hand on the man’s arm. “So this is just a… meet-and-greet? Like a mixer?”

“Exactly,” he confirms, returning her smile with a fondness that prickles my protective instincts. “No Morris. He only comes for the real parties.” He gestures to the couples dancing. “Tonight’s more about feeling things out, seeing if people mesh.”

I bite back the irritation rising in my gut. If Morris isn’t even here, what the hell are we supposed to learn tonight? I toss a glance at Isabel, who’s keeping her composure, though I can practically sense the disappointment rolling off her.

We excuse ourselves politely, drifting to the edge of the dance floor, trying to figure out our next move. The slow, pulsing music, the clink of champagne glasses, the hush of private conversations—it’s all a heady mix, but none of it leads us to Rolfe.

Just as I’m about to suggest we try another group, a couple materializes from the far side of the couches. They’re dressed to the nines: the man in a tailored navy suit, the woman in a shimmering gold gown that plunges low at the neckline. They’re both attractive in that polished, upper-echelon kind of way, and they approach us with curious smiles.

“You two look new,” the woman says, crossing her arms under her chest, her posture clearly confident. The man offers an easy grin, eyes flicking between me and Isabel like he’s sizing us up.

I slip an arm around Isabel’s waist, pulling her closer. “Yeah, newish,” I say, letting a hint of a playful drawl creep into my tone. “We’re exploring the lifestyle… seeing what it’s all about.”

Isabel nods in agreement, her cheek brushing my shoulder as she nestles in. The effect is immediate—those two sets of eyes widen with keen interest.

The woman extends a hand, her voice taking on a sultry warmth. “I’m Vera, and this is Trey. So… are you two swingers, or just curious?”

There it is—the question we knew might come, but still feels a little jarring to hear out loud. Isabel shifts slightly, but her composure is impressive. She slides a look my way, batting her lashes in a show of wifely affection. “We’re more of the watching type,” she says, letting her lips curl in a slow smile, “but we’re keeping an open mind.”

A part of me admires how smoothly she slips into the role. We’ve prepared for scenarios like this—scenarios that require us to adopt a persona that lets us blend into the crowd without raising suspicion. Still, hearing Isabel imply that we’re watchers in the scene sends a flicker of need through my veins, remembering just how close we’ve gotten these past few nights.

Trey chuckles. “Watching can be fun.” He slides a glance at Vera, who nods with an amused smirk. “So, you came to see if Morris was here?”

My stomach clenches. Bingo. “We heard he might show,” I say, carefully nonchalant. “We’re… what’s the word? Big admirers. We’ve heard he throws the best parties.”

Vera’s face lights up with an indulgent smile. “Oh, he does. Morris is a close friend of ours.” Her eyes glimmer, pride evident. “But he’s not in town tonight—must be on business.”

Isabel arches a brow, pitching her voice just loud enough to be heard over the music. “You two are that close with him?”

Trey gives a small shrug, sipping his champagne. “We’ve known him a few years. Helped him organize a couple of private gatherings. He’s a busy man, but we catch him when we can.”

My pulse kicks up. If these two are real friends of Morris, maybe they can lead us to him eventually. I take a moment to play the role further, letting my hand slide from Isabel’s waist to rest on the small of her back, pressing her lightly against me. “Well, we’d love to meet him.”

Vera sets down her glass on a nearby table. “I’m sure we can arrange that. But in the meantime, why don’t you relax, enjoy yourselves?” She steps in closer, eyeing the swirl of couples behind us. “We can show you around if you like.”

“We were hoping for something a bit more… private,” Isabel says, leaning into my side. Her voice stays airy, but I catch the tension in her eyes. She’s trying to push them to talk more about Morris, but not too aggressively.

Trey and Vera exchange knowing looks. “Well,” Trey says, “we can take you to a quieter area. If you’re watchers, I’m sure you’ll find a good vantage point.”

“Sounds great,” I say, keeping my tone light.

They lead us past the mini-ballroom, around to a tucked-away alcove behind an ornate screen. The lighting here is softer, tinted rose and gold, with a low table in the center and a plush white couch that looks like it belongs in a high-end boudoir. The faint chatter of the party fades, and my heart gives a small jump. We’re definitely pushing deeper into the scene.

Vera gestures for us to sit. “Make yourselves comfortable.” A teasing smile curves her lips as she eyes Isabel. “Or, better yet, get cozy with each other.”

The request is expected, but it still sends a jolt through me. Isabel glances up at me, and I dip my head in a small nod, stepping around the table and taking a seat on the couch. I pull her onto my lap in one fluid motion, my hand resting lightly on her hip. The immediate flood of warmth from her body nearly makes me forget why we’re here.

I can feel the tension in her shoulders, the faint tremble in her thighs where they brush my knees. “You good?” I murmur against her ear.

She gives a tiny nod, a ghost of a smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah,” she murmurs, her breath hitching just enough that I notice.

Trey and Vera settle on a couch across from us, a flicker of amusement in their eyes as they watch me and Isabel entwine. “You two are adorable,” Vera purrs, leaning into Trey’s side. Her gaze slides between us, curiosity brimming. “So how long have you been… exploring?”

Isabel glances at me before answering. “Not too long. We’re pretty new to it all, so we like… seeing how others do it. Getting a feel for the vibe.” Her fingers slide up to rest on my chest in a display of affection, and I have to remind myself to keep breathing normally because fuck, I’m getting hard just having her so close.

Trey chuckles, swirling his champagne. “Well, you’re in good hands if you become friends with Morris. He knows all the right people, all the right places.” He quirks a brow, offering a sly grin. “Who knows? Maybe you’ll get on the guest list for his next big event.”

That’s exactly what we need. I let out a relaxed laugh, letting my palm slide a gentle circle over Isabel’s hip. “We’d love that. I mean, we’ve heard rumors… big parties, lots of interesting guests.”

Vera nods, eyes gleaming. “You’d be right. The best part is how discreet it all is. Morris is cautious—he vets everyone who attends. So if you make the cut, you’re golden.”

I file that information away, trying not to show just how valuable it is. It sounds like we’ll need more than just a casual introduction to get close to Morris. Still, I keep my tone casual. “Well, we hope we pass the test,” I say, shooting a playful look at Isabel. “We’re very… open-minded, but we like to be sure about the company we keep.”

Across from us, Trey rests his hand on Vera’s thigh, his voice dropping lower. “So, how do you like to… watch?” His gaze flicks over me and Isabel, and there’s an unmistakable edge to it.

Isabel tenses, but she masks it by shifting on my lap, pressing closer. My entire body goes on high alert at the feel of her in my arms, but I smooth a hand along her lower back, letting my fingers toy with the material of her dress. “We’re just feeling it out,” I say, steadying my voice. “We like to keep each other in sight, you know? And if things get interesting… we watch from a comfortable distance.”

Vera laughs softly, leaning forward, elbows on her knees. “Mmm, well, you might see a lot tonight. People sometimes get carried away, especially after a few drinks.”

Isabel offers a small nod, her voice pitched low and warm. “That’s what we’re hoping for.”

Even though we’re playing a role, the closeness between us is far from fake. The heat of her body on my lap, the subtle flutter in her pulse when I shift beneath her—it’s all too real. My mind splits in two: one half remains laser-focused on gleaning any relevant detail about Morris, and the other half struggles to deal with the heightened awareness of Isabel’s every breath.

We chat for a while longer, the conversation dipping into innuendo and flirtatious remarks. Trey and Vera seem eager to gauge our interest, as though testing if we might actually swing or if we’re just voyeurs. They drop more hints about Morris’s circle—how exclusive it is, how certain individuals must prove themselves “trustworthy”—but it’s all still vague. Not enough to pinpoint his location or schedule, and definitely not enough to confront him directly.

Eventually, the music from the mini-ballroom shifts to a slower tune. Trey stands, extending a hand to Vera. “Shall we dance?”

She rises smoothly, shooting us a wink. “We’ll give you two some space. Enjoy yourselves—maybe we’ll circle back later. Who knows what might happen, right?”

I force a crooked grin. “Right,” I reply, letting my hand stroke a comforting pattern on Isabel’s thigh.

They saunter off, leaving us in this tucked-away nook that’s both intimate and exposed. I exhale, glancing down at Isabel. Her gaze meets mine, and I see the swirl of relief, nerves, and maybe a hint of amusement in her eyes.

“Well,” I mutter, keeping my voice low, “this is definitely not what I expected.”

She snorts softly, settling her head against my shoulder. “We came here looking for Morris, and we end up weaving through a swinger’s meet-and-greet. Talk about a curveball.”

I tighten my hold on her, the press of her body offering a strange sense of comfort. “At least we found people who know him,” I say, striving to stay optimistic. “If we play our cards right, they might introduce us in the future.”

She nods, the strain in her voice obvious. “Yeah. We just have to keep up the act.”

I brush a strand of hair off her cheek, trying not to think too hard about the fact that my feelings for her have blurred far beyond any act. “We’ve got this,” I murmur, voice gentle. “We’ll see what else we can learn. Then we’ll get out of here.”

Her lips curve in a weary smile. “Right. Together.”

For a moment, I forget about the mission, about Morris, about the entire reason we’re here. All I can think about is how her body molds against mine, how her breath feathers against my jaw. But the mission’s always in the back of my mind, reminding me we have bigger goals than just enjoying each other’s closeness. Still, I can’t deny the fierce surge of protectiveness that wells up, urging me to shield her from this world of secrets and seduction.

“Come on,” I say finally, pressing a soft kiss to her temple for show—and maybe for real. “Let’s mingle a bit more, see if anyone else has scraps of information. If we’re lucky, Vera and Trey might introduce us to someone else in Morris’s circle before the night’s over.”

She nods, shifting off my lap with graceful ease. Her dress skims her thighs as she stands, and for a split second, my gaze lingers on that exposed skin, warmth flaring in my chest. Then I push aside the distraction and rise beside her. I extend my hand, and she takes it without hesitation, her touch sending a faint jolt through my system.

As we step back into the main room, the low lights glint off the polished floor. The soft strains of music continue, punctuated by hushed laughter and the occasional murmur of conversations I can’t quite catch. In the distance, I see Trey and Vera dancing close, their bodies swaying in unison. They glance our way, exchanging a knowing smile that suggests they’ll be watching to see if we fit in.

My grip tightens on Isabel’s hand. We may be a million miles out of our comfort zone, but we’re not giving up. If there’s even a sliver of a chance that these connections lead to Morris Rolfe, we’ll take it. Because come what may, I’m not letting her face this alone. And I’m not walking away from this mission until we have the answers we came for.