Page 31 of Their Reckless Thief (The Below #1)

DORIAN

Bass vibrated through the walls as I made my way through Obsidian Eclipse, one of my grittier nightclubs.

It wasn’t at all like the casino or the upscale bars where I blended luxury and power.

No, this place was raw, wild, and undeniably taboo.

The women who worked here did more than entertain.

They chose their clients, deciding who got the privilege of spending money on them and, if they wanted, who they would take to bed for the right price.

It was business, yes, but it was about control. It was about empowerment.

The club was packed tonight. Neon lights bathed the room in purple and red, casting a glow over the dancers writhing on their poles.

Women in glittering thongs and pasties moved with an alluring grace, their skin shimmering like gold under the lights.

Magic lingered in the air, a subtle throb of succubus allure and enchantments from the witches, drawing the men in deeper.

Their eyes were glued to the stage, mouths practically hanging open as they salivated over the performers.

The lust in the air was thick enough to taste, and it reeked of desperation from the men who couldn’t pull their gazes away.

Some of them leaned forward in their seats, white-knuckling their drinks.

Others had cigars hanging from their lips, eyes dark with hunger.

None of that mattered to me. The whole place could burn, for all I cared.

I was here for one thing, and it wasn’t the entertainment.

I walked through the crowd without sparing the dancers a second glance. A few of the women winked or threw flirtatious looks my way, but I didn’t stop.

I made my way to the back, where the music was more subdued, and knocked on a door labeled Alessia . I didn’t need an invitation. This was my club, but respect was important, especially when it came to one of my most successful employees.

Alessia opened the door, a vision of seduction.

She was a succubus, and one of the best. Her body was all curves, perfectly accentuated by the fact that she was only wearing a thong.

Her dark hair cascaded down her back like a waterfall, and her breasts, impossible to ignore, gleamed under the soft lighting.

It was the succubus allure, the effortless temptation that radiated from her.

I fought to keep my eyes from wandering.

“You’re staring,” she said with a smirk, her sultry voice drawing me in even more. “My eyes are up here, Dorian.”

I chuckled as I stepped into the room. “Yeah, well, you make it damn hard to focus.” I glanced up at her face, trying to keep it professional, though Alessia had a way of making that extremely difficult.

She closed the door behind me. “It’s been a while since we’ve had one of our little chats.” Her eyes raked over me as she leaned against her vanity, which was cluttered with makeup, perfume, and little bottles of potions—everything a succubus needed to lure in her prey.

“Business has been good,” I said. “I have no complaints about you or any of the other girls. We’re maxing out our seating capacity nearly every night. What more could a guy like me ask for?”

Her red lips curled into a smile. “Good to hear. I’ve got a new dance coming up in about twenty minutes. You should stay and watch. I’ve added a few new magical touches.” She winked, and I could feel the subtle pulse of her succubus magic weaving through the air, trying to snare me.

I raised an eyebrow. “Tempting, but I’ve got other things on my mind.”

She pouted playfully. “Shame.”

“I do have something to discuss with you, though. You’ve probably heard about the women going missing from our district.”

The playfulness drained from her expression. “Yeah, I’ve heard. It’s fucked up. I haven’t heard anything concrete, though. None of the girls here have gone missing... yet.”

I nodded, grateful that all the women who worked in the club were accounted for. “I need you to keep your ears open with your clients. They tend to spill their secrets when they’re under your spell.”

She laughed, a husky sound. “You mean when they’re mesmerized by my pussy? You can say it, you know. That’s what they’re paying for. As they should.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle. “I’m not going to argue with that.”

She winked, her playful nature back in full force. “I’ll keep an eye out. If I hear anything, you’ll be the first to know.”

“I appreciate it,” I said, turning to leave. “I’ll let you get ready for your show.”

She waved me off with a smirk. “You’re missing out, Dorian.”

I left her dressing room and headed back toward the front, weaving through the dancers and the crowd.

More women were on stage now, spinning on the poles, their bodies moving in ways that drove the men wild.

I averted my eyes—not out of respect for them, but because all I could think about was her .

Celeste.

I hadn’t even realized how much of a grip she had on my mind until now. Every woman I passed, every look thrown my way, was nothing compared to her. It pissed me off more than I cared to admit.

I was in the middle of one of the biggest crises in The Below, with missing women, contaminated Phantomine, and a brewing war with The Shadow. And yet all I could think about was the way Celeste’s lips parted when she moaned my name.

Fuck.

I needed to focus, but Celeste was a distraction I couldn’t shake.

I had to see her again.

I wasn’t used to going through the front door of Celeste’s apartment.

Normally, I’d slip up the fire escape, sneak through her bedroom window, and surprise her.

Today, however, was different. I had something planned.

Something that required a bit more finesse than climbing metal ladders in the dark.

I stepped into the lobby of her building, wrinkling my nose at the dim lighting and the scuffed old carpet. Not my usual scene. But for her? Worth it.

I made my way up the stairs, holding a bouquet of deep red roses in one hand and the little black dress I’d picked out for her in the other.

When I knocked on her door, I heard her yell from inside, “I’m coming!” Her voice was filled with that familiar bite—sharp, but somehow sweet when it came from her.

The door swung open, and there she was. Her eyes went wide, and her mouth dropped open. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

I grinned, holding up the roses and the dress. “You’ve got ten minutes to get ready. I’m taking you out on a date.”

“A what?” she asked, staring at me like I’d lost my damn mind.

I waved the dress. “A date, sweetheart. You know, dinner, conversation, all that. And you’ll look killer in this. So, get moving.”

She looked down at the dress, then back at me. “You’re serious?”

“Dead serious,” I replied, stepping inside like I owned the place, because that’s how I rolled. I brushed past her and plopped down on the couch, making myself comfortable. “Ten minutes. I’m counting.”

Celeste groaned and ran a hand through her hair, but a hint of a smile tugged at her lips as she took the dress from me. “You’re insane,” she muttered as she went to the room.

“Don’t keep me waiting too long, sweetheart,” I called after her. I was loving her flustered reaction.

I glanced around her apartment. It was tiny, but it had a certain charm, like everything about Celeste. One thing, however, stood out starkly. Vivian was sitting at the table, eyes fixed on her laptop, clearly pretending I wasn’t even there.

Perfect.

“Hey,” I said with a smile. “How’s it going?”

She didn’t even glance in my direction. “Fine.”

I chuckled and leaned back against the cushions. “Okay then.” I tapped my fingers against the arm of the couch, letting the tension between us hang for a few seconds. “Working on anything interesting?”

Vivian sighed. “Nope. Just... work.” She didn’t add anything more, and that was that.

All right, no small talk with Vivian. Noted.

Luckily, before things could get any more uncomfortable, I heard Celeste’s door open. When I looked up, my breath caught in my throat. The dress I’d picked out fit her like a glove. Her curves, her legs… Every inch of her was perfectly highlighted in that sleek fabric.

I let out a low whistle. “Damn, Celeste.”

She smirked and did a little twirl, the dress swaying around her hips. “Not bad, right?” she teased.

“Not bad at all.” I stood and offered her my arm. “Shall we?”

She arched an eyebrow, clearly amused by the whole situation. “Where exactly are you taking me?”

I smiled and took her hand, leading her toward the door. “Somewhere special.”

The drive into Manhattan was quiet, the lights of the city growing brighter as we crossed the Hudson.

The skyline stretched out like an endless, glittering promise.

By the time we reached the restaurant, the city had settled into its nighttime rhythm—late dinners, couples strolling hand in hand, the occasional street performer strumming a guitar.

Amicco Italian Restaurant was nestled in a cozy corner of Greenwich Village, its warm lights spilling out onto the cobblestone street. The aroma of fresh basil and garlic drifted from the entrance, mingling with the crisp autumn air.

Celeste stopped short, tugging on my arm. “You brought me here ?” she whispered in disbelief. “Dorian, this place is impossible to get into. It’s, like, a six-month wait.”

I grinned. “Good thing I don’t wait.”

Inside, the restaurant was a haven of polished marble floors, soft candlelight, and the quiet murmur of conversation. The hostess greeted us by name, and I guided Celeste to a private table in the corner, away from prying eyes.

She sank into her chair, still eyeing me like I’d pulled off a magic trick. “How did you manage this?”

I shrugged. “Perks of knowing the right people.”

Celeste narrowed her eyes, but I could tell she was impressed. She sipped her wine, and I saw some of the tension leaving her shoulders.