Page 24 of Theirs to Desire (Club M: Boxed Set)

FIONA

B y the time I’m done talking to Xavier, it’s almost half-past seven. I head back to my room and flip through Maria’s folder for the next thirty minutes. By the time I’m done, my stomach is rumbling with hunger.

There’s a black folder on the small table by the window. I open it, hoping it contains a menu.

It does. Score. I dial Room Service and order some overpriced food, and then I head to the bathroom to get ready for tonight.

An hour later, I’ve eaten and showered. Standing in front of the floor-to-ceiling mirror in my black lace underwear, I put my make-up on carefully, smoothing foundation over my face to hide my freckles before adding bronzer and blush.

Then, I slip my black cocktail dress over my head and survey my reflection.

Not bad. I’m more cute than beautiful, and I’ve resigned myself to that, but the dress makes me look sophisticated.

At least I won’t look out of place. I linger for another few minutes in my room, but eventually, I run out of excuses to stall.

Banishing the butterflies that seem to have taken up permanent residence in my stomach, I step into the elevator and head downstairs.

Club M is located in the basement of the castle. The elevator arrives sooner than I’m ready, and the doors part in a whisper of sound. Hoping I look more confident than I feel, I step into the space, trying to take it all in.

I don’t know what I expected. Black walls, maybe, and dim lighting?

This place is neither of those things. Rather, it looks like an upscale British gentlemen’s club.

The walls are covered with red and gold patterned wallpaper.

The ceiling is painted gold, and a huge, glittering crystal chandelier hangs down from it, throwing warm light everywhere, but especially on the Saint Andrew’s Cross that’s directly under it.

To the left of me is a seating area, filled with overstuffed brown leather couches and polished teak tables. To my right is a bar that takes up the entire length of the room. If there are private playrooms, and I’m assuming there’ll have to be, those must be in the back.

It’s a quarter after nine. I’m early, and there aren’t too many people in the club yet.

A group of well-dressed men and women have taken over one of the seating areas, and there are two guys at one corner of the bar, talking to each other in low voices.

A guy in leather pants is leading his corset-clad submissive around on a leash, but the two of them are definitely in the minority.

Most people are dressed in evening wear, not fetish clothing.

It’s the bar I make my way to. In my experience, bartenders are always good for a chat, especially when they aren’t too busy. My goal today is to get the lay of the land and try to understand who wants to blackmail Maria Dumonte.

As I walk up, the bartender gives me a friendly smile. She’s an average-sized woman with short blonde hair, streaked with pink highlights, dressed in a black tank-top and a short black skirt. Her arms are covered with tattoos of dragons. “Hello,” she says cheerfully. “Welcome to Club M. I’m Kiera.”

“Thanks.” I take a seat. “How’d you know I was new?”

She grins. “Your eyes were darting around the room, taking it all in. And when you saw Hector and Melissa,” she nods toward the couple in leather, “you looked a little shocked.” Her eyes twinkle in amusement. “The regulars don’t bat an eye.”

I laugh. “You’re very observant.”

“You have to be in this job. Can I get you a drink?”

“A glass of red wine, please.”

She reaches for a bottle of wine and pours it into a glass, setting it in front of me.

I take it from her with a nod of thanks.

Sipping my wine, I people-watch out of the corner of my eye.

A large group of women drifts in, making their way to the seating area with an air of anticipation.

When the bartender comes back, I ask her about it. “Is there something going on tonight?”

“A couple of demos,” she replies. “Everyone’s jockeying for a prime viewing spot.

At ten, there’s a rope demonstration, and the dominants who are doing it, Colin and Stuart, are very popular among the female members.

The rumor is that they’re going to ask for volunteers from the audience, and no one wants to miss out. ”

My mood sours. In three weeks, there’ll be a bunch of women giggling over Adrian and Brody’s pet play demo. I get to my feet. “Kiera, could you keep an eye on my drink? I’m going to head to the bathroom.”

I’m hoping that the washroom will be empty, but it isn’t. Standing in front of a mirror, refreshing her makeup, is the woman whose photo has started all of this. Maria Dumonte.

I can’t believe my luck. I’d been hoping for a chance to talk to her in an informal setting, and here she is. “Hi,” I say, hoping she’s as chatty as the bartender.

She looks up with a smile. “Hello,” she replies. “Do you know if Colin and Stuart have started yet?”

The rope demo. I inwardly give thanks for Keira’s information. “Not yet. I think it’s at ten.” This is my chance to engage her in conversation. “I’m looking forward to it,” I say, giving her a smile that I hope is both excited and nervous. “It’s my first time at the club.”

“Is it?” She puts away her tube of mascara. “Welcome.”

I giggle, a sound calculated to disarm. “Thanks. I can’t believe I’m in a real-life sex club. It almost feels unreal, you know?”

“You’ve never been to one before?”

She’s in her early twenties, but she acts much older.

There’s a tone of jaded boredom in her voice that I didn’t have when I was her age.

But maybe that has to do with her upbringing.

In the file that Xavier handed me earlier, I learned that she’d been sent to an elite boarding school when she was twelve, and only saw her parents during the holidays.

Her mother lives in Baton Rouge in an old mansion, and her father spends most of his time here in DC.

The rumors are that the parents can’t stand each other, but of course, divorce is out of the question.

“No,” I confess with a brittle laugh. “It’s my first time.”

“Don't worry,” she says soothingly. “You’ll love it here. Everyone’s very nice. Are you looking for play partners at the club or a dom?”

I don’t need to be an experienced private investigator to sense that something is off. Xavier Leforte hired me to flush out the person who is trying to blackmail Maria.

But Maria seems unusually calm. Her attitude doesn’t add up. If someone sent me a naked photo of myself taken at a sex club, I’d be freaking out. I certainly wouldn't be telling people that Club M is a great experience.

Then again, I haven’t grown up in Maria Dumonte's world. Maybe she’s just really good at hiding her emotions. I push a little.

“I don't know,” I admit sheepishly. “Xavier told me there was no hurry to decide.”

“Xavier Leforte?” she interjects sharply.“You've met him? When?”

What an interesting reaction. “He conducted my screening interview. Why? Is he important?”

She shoots me a disbelieving look. “Yes, of course, he’s important. Xavier owns this place.”

“He does?” I pretend to be surprised. “How weird. Maybe he was short-staffed that day.”

Maria looks skeptical.“Maybe. Or maybe you're his type.”

There’s a note of jealousy in her tone. I file that away for later analysis. This is turning into a very puzzling encounter. “I doubt it,” I tell her. “Not unless his type is short and freckled.”

“Nobody knows what his type is,” she replies sourly. She looks like she wants to say more, but just then, the door swings open and a group of three women walk in, laughing and chatting. Instantly, a polished mask slides over Maria’s face. Damn it.

I try to prolong our conversation. “Any advice for a first-timer?”

“Trust your intuition,” she says. “Don’t let anyone pressure you into doing something you don’t want.” She gives her reflection one last look in the mirror, nods at me, and turns toward the door.

Maria is definitely into Xavier. I wonder if he knows.

I head back to the bar and reclaim my drink. I’ve barely been in my seat for five minutes when someone draws up next to me. My skin prickles with awareness. “Hello, Fiona,” a crisp, familiar voice says. Adrian.