Page 2 of Trained In Sin

Saphy

"I think I'm dying," I gasp, pressing my fingers into the side of my head. The bass from the speakers pulses through my entire body, making me feel sick.

Beth laughs and hands me a glass of water.

"You just can’t handle your drink, moron. I think you'll be fine."

"Bullshit," I mumble. "You're a torturer. This is cruel and unusual punishment."

"Hang on, you asked me if I was free tonight, not the other way round," my best friend says, looking completely unfazed and collected in her sleek black dress. "If I remember, there were certain promises of drinks on you?"

"That is not the point, and you know it." I take a big sip of water, wishing it would do more to clear my head. "You should've told me no. Talked me down from the ledge when I suggested those stupid tequila shots."

"Oh shut up, and stop being dramatic,” she laughed at me.

Beth is right, and that infuriates me even more.

Tonight, the music is too loud, the drinks too overpriced, and the crowd too.

.. everything. But I'd promised myself I'd celebrate properly when my promotion came through, and here we are at Pulse, the most exclusive nightclub in the city.

Everyone who's anyone comes here, celebrities, athletes, the city's elite.

Getting on the guest list had taken Beth calling in three separate favours.

I'd worked three years at Hartwell Architecture to get this junior editor position. Three years of coffee runs, late nights, and pushing through project deadlines with minimal recognition. The promotion should feel like a victory. Instead, I just feel overwhelmed.

"I'm calling a bathroom time out." I make a T with my hands. "I need five minutes of quiet."

Beth frowns, disappointed that I'm already looking for an escape. "Fine. But when you come back, we're dancing!"

I force a smile, give her a thumbs up and make my way through the crowd toward the bathrooms. The club is packed tonight, people dancing, making out in dark corners, bumping into each other. I knew it would be busy, I just didn’t imagine it would be this busy!

I'm halfway to the bathrooms when a large hand grips my elbow. I turn, ready to punch whichever drunk has his hands on me but find myself face to face with a mountain of a man in a fitted black suit. He looks nothing like the usual Pulse clientele. No designer jeans or fashionable shirt. He’s giving Men in Black but without the sunglasses. This guy screams security.

"Are you new here?" he asks, his voice just audible over the music.

"Yeah, it’s my first time here,” I shout to be heard. “I’m just going to the bathroom.” I give him a smile and try to move away.

He doesn't let go. "Mr. Blackwood likes to meet all new staff personally. This way, please. "

"There's been a mistake. I don't…." But he's already guiding me through the crowd, his grip firm but not painful.

He doesn’t listen as he steers me through the crowd toward a roped off VIP section. Who the fuck is Mr. Blackwood? And why does he think I work here?

I consider screaming, but what would I say?

Help, this very professional looking mountain man is escorting me to the VIP section?

I'd sound more drunk than I actually am. Besides, there’s something about him that screams red flag, and I don’t particularly want to draw more attention to myself than I’m already getting.

I try and spot Beth in the crowd, but I can’t see her through the sheer volume of people.

We reach a private booth at the back of the VIP area.

Seated there is possibly the most beautiful man I've ever seen. Black hair swept back and impeccably styled. The perfect amount of stubble growing on his lower face. His grey suit fitted to all the right places. He’s sat with one leg over the other, a glass of whisky in his hand.

"Who's this?" the beautiful man asks, his eyes narrowing slightly as he takes me in.

"New staff, Seb," the mountain man replies, releasing my arm.

"I'm not…." I begin, but the beautiful man cuts me off.

"I don't recall hiring anyone new tonight, outside of management." The beautiful man, Mr. Blackwood I assume, stares at me from head to toe .

"That's because I'm not. Not staff, I mean," I say, finding my voice. "I'm just here with my friend. This mountain here, made a mistake."

Blackwood's eyebrows raise slightly, and a small grin dances on his mouth.

"I see. Love the new nickname, Matthew.” He glances at Matthew, who seems less than impressed at my slip.

I silently remind myself that my inside thoughts, need to actually stay inside.

“Sorry sweet, Matthew the Mountain does occasionally overstep.

" He gestures to the seat opposite him. "Please, sit.

Let me make up for the misunderstanding. "

Matthew steps back but blocks my exit. Mr. Blackwood gestures to the seat opposite him.

"Come on, sit. Have a drink." His tone makes it clear this isn't an invitation but a command.

I should run. I should scream. I should do anything but sit across from this dangerous looking stranger. But something about the way he looks at me, makes me slide into the booth. Well, that and the fact that his bodyguard is still standing between me and freedom.

"Do you make a habit of kidnapping women you don't know?" I ask, trying to sound braver than I feel. My voice only wavers slightly, which I count as a victory.

His mouth quirks up at one corner. "Only ask me the questions you actually want answers to sweet." He pours amber liquid from a crystal decanter into two glasses. "I'm Sebastian Blackwood. People call me Seb."

He slides a glass toward me. I don't touch it. I've heard enough stories about drinks in clubs to know better, regardless of how expensive the alcohol looks .

"And you are?" he prompts when I don't immediately respond.

"Saphire. Well no, Saphy, just Saphy" I reply, keeping it at just my first name. No need to give this man any more information than necessary.

"Well, Just Saphy. What brings you to my club tonight?"

"Your club?" I look around, suddenly understanding the ease with which his bodyguard navigated the VIP section.

The exclusive Pulse nightclub belongs to him.

I know how difficult it was for us to get in tonight; Beth had to speak to so many people to even get a whiff of the guest list. This place is practically the centre of the city's nightlife scene.

Mr Blackwood says nothing; he just continues to stare at me.

"I'm celebrating. Got a promotion today." I don't know why I'm telling him this. Internally I’m screaming at myself to shut up.

"Congratulations," he says, but there's no warmth in it. His eyes feel like they’re staring into my literal soul. "What do you do?"

"I work at Hartwell Architecture," I answer, not sure why I'm telling him anything. "I’m in acquisitions”.

Something flickers across his face. Interest? It's gone before I can identify it.

"Gordon Reeves sits on the board at Hartwell. Do you know him?" he says, taking a sip of his drink.

I nod. "He's the finance director."

"He’s your boss?" He's watching me too carefully, and I fight the urge to squirm with discomfort.

"Not directly. Different departments. "

Seb smiles, and it transforms his face from merely beautiful to devastating. But there's something in that smile that makes me unbelievably uncomfortable.

"What a fascinating coincidence," he says. "Tell me more about Hartwell."

The way he says Hartwell's name makes my skin prickle. Something just isn’t sitting right. And what does he mean by coincidence?

"I should get back to my friend," I say, suddenly desperate to escape this man's intensity. "She'll be looking for me."

I stand abruptly, but Seb's hand shoots out and grabs my wrist. Not hard enough to hurt, but firm enough that I can't pull away.

His touch sends an unwelcome jolt of electricity up my arm.

I quickly glance around, looking for Beth as back up.

Above us, I notice the dark tinted glass of what must be an office overlooking the VIP section.

"Don't be rude, Just Saphy. We were just getting to know each other."

The threat beneath his words is unmistakable. I'm suddenly very aware of how isolated this VIP booth is, despite being in a crowded club. No one would hear me if I screamed. Not over this music. I’m fucked.

"It’s Saphy. And let go of me," I say, not as forcefully as I'd like. My heart is pounding so hard, I'm surprised he can't hear it.

"Oh, she's feeling brave," he mutters, more to himself than to me. His grip loosens, but he doesn't release me. "How about I buy you and your friend a bottle of champagne to celebrate your promotion? Unless you fancy something else?" He actually has the audacity to raise an eyebrow at me.

Matthew the Mountain stiffens, glancing between the two of us. My internal voice isn’t just screaming; it’s dancing up and down with giant red flags.

"No, thank you," I manage. "I just want to go back to my friend."

His eyes narrow slightly, like he's not used to rejection. For a terrifying moment, I think he won't let me go. Then something changes in his expression.

"Fine," he says, finally releasing my wrist. "But I have a feeling we'll be seeing each other again, Saphy from Hartwell Architecture." He reaches into his jacket and produces a business card, pressing it into my palm. "When we do, perhaps you'll be more... cooperative."

I snatch the business card out of hand, not wanting to push my luck too far and turn and walk away as steadily as I can manage. I can feel his eyes on me all the way back through the club. My legs feel like jelly, and I'm surprised I make it through the crowd without collapsing.

When I find Beth, she's frantic.

"Where the fuck have you been?" she demands. "I've been looking everywhere! I checked the bathrooms, the bar, I was about to have security start searching!"

I hold up the business card, still clutched in my trembling hand. "Sebastian Blackwood, CEO, Syren Enterprises," I read aloud.

Beth's eyes widen. "The Sebastian Blackwood? Owner of like, six nightclubs in the city? How did you...? "

"His mountain of a bodyguard thought I was someone else." I glance back toward the VIP area but can't see him anymore.

"Girl, that man is dangerous," Beth says, but her eyes are gleaming with excitement. "Extremely hot, but dangerous."

"Not helpful, Beth. I need to get out of here." The walls of the club feel like they're closing in. The music that was too loud before is now unbearable.

"What exactly happened?" Beth asks, guiding me toward a quieter corner. "Did he hurt you?"

"No, not at all." I rub my wrist where he grabbed me. There's no mark, but I can still feel the pressure of his fingers. "His bodyguard thought I worked here, brought me to meet the boss. When Blackwood realised I worked at Hartwell, he got... interested. In a bad way."

Beth's expression grows serious. "That can't be good."

"Nope. It clearly wasn't a friendly chat." I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. "Beth, the way he looked at me...”

Beth raises an eyebrow. "I’ve heard rumours, Saphy he isn’t the sort of guy to fuck around with.”

"Let's get out of here," I say, suddenly needing fresh air. "Today is not my day to people."

"I get it. Let’s go," Beth says, throwing her arms around my neck for a hug as we head toward the exit.

"Love you girl," I say, slipping Seb's business card into my purse instead of the rubbish where I know it belongs.

*

Outside, the cool night air helps clear my head. Beth hails a taxi, and we climb in, giving the driver our addresses. Beth lives across town, so she'll be dropped off first.

"You'll call me if you need anything, right?" Beth asks as the taxi pulls up to her building. "And you'll let me know what you decide to do about Mr. Dangerous and Sexy?"

Despite everything, I laugh. "Yes to the first. As for the second, there's nothing to decide. I'm going to avoid Sebastian Blackwood like the plague."

Beth gives me one last hug before climbing out. "Wise choice grasshopper. Men like him have a way of getting what they want,” she adds, giving all the wisdom of a baked potato.

As the taxi continues toward my flat, I can't help but think about those intense eyes, and how he held on to my wrist. The way he'd said my name, Saphy from Hartwell Architecture, like he was committing me to memory for later.

I touch the business card in my bag. I should throw it away. I should forget I ever met Sebastian Blackwood. I should definitely not be thinking about how his hand felt on my wrist or how his voice sent shivers down my spine.

When I get home, my boyfriend Damon has left a message on my phone. "Hope you're having fun celebrating! Can't wait to hear all about the promotion on Sunday. Love you."

Guilt washes over me. I haven't thought about Damon all night. What's wrong with me ?

I shower, trying to wash away the club smell and the memory of Seb's touch. But as I climb into bed, his business card somehow ends up on my nightstand instead of in the bin.

Just in case I need it.