Page 2

CHAPTER 2

Y ou ever had a feeling that someone was watching you?

Not in that cold, prickling way that makes the hairs on your neck stand up, but in a way that makes your pussy purr and your skin hum.

Like someone’s gaze knows more about you than it should?

Like it’s peeling back your layers, not to expose, but to understand?

I knew that feeling all too well. Velvet Secrets was built on it. People came to my club to be seen. To be admired. To invite curiosity.

But this was different.

There was no heat behind this stare. No hunger. Just presence and intent.

I lifted my glass to my lips as I allowed my eyes to drift over the room.

Who are you?

My gaze skimmed the crowd of usual suspects—familiar faces standing out here and there, but none with their focus on me. I continued to look, not allowing my eyes to linger too long because I was desperate to find the eyes that were watching me.

Until I did.

There you are.

The eyes belonged to a face, an extremely handsome one at first glance, that I’d never seen in here and that alone told me that he wasn’t on the guest list.

He couldn’t have been.

He wasn’t wearing a mask like everyone else in the room, which was required for the night, and anyone that stepped past my threshold knew there were three rules: consent was non-negotiable, mask were mandatory, and I was off limits.

Mixing business with pleasure was a recipe for disaster because this wasn’t a place for blurred lines. I’d successfully built something rooted in respect, self-control and safety, and I promised myself at the very start of my business that I would never allow temptation to get in the way of that.

No matter how tempting something, or in this case, someone was.

But still…

He didn’t flinch or look away like most men when they were caught staring. He just continued to hold my gaze almost like he was waiting on me to find him.

He sat alone, one arm thrown across the back of the chair next to him, while his other hand nursed a crystal glass that I hadn’t seen him take a drink from yet. Like the only thing worth drinking in… was me.

I hadn’t ever seen this man a day in my life, but something about the way he watched me and looked at me felt intimate. Familiar in a way that made no sense. It wasn’t lust. It wasn’t admiration. It was… interest.

I tilted my head to test him, to see if I could get him to react to being caught in the act of staring and when he didn’t, my feet began to move in his direction without permission. My steps weren’t rushed or rehearsed, just… inevitable it felt like.

Each step was a question that I didn’t ask out loud— Who are you? Why me? But for some reason, I felt like he already knew the answers to those questions, I just needed them.

The crowd shifted as I made my way through. Eyes followed me, like they always did when I was making my rounds, but this time I didn’t feel their weight. I only felt his.

As I closed the distance between us, I noticed more—how still and self-contained he was. Underneath these velvet drapes most men preened, adjusting their expensive watches and cufflinks, attempting to make themselves visible, but not him. He didn’t chase attention, he drew it.

“You watch everyone like this?” I asked when I was sure I was within in earshot, trailing one of my hands along the back of the empty chair across from him. “Or am I just a lucky woman?”

And still… he didn’t blink. He didn’t smile. He just sat there quiet and unreadable.

For some reason, in that very moment I knew I should have walked away—gotten security and had them remove him because he looked like the kind of danger and temptation I should run away from, but I didn’t.

I couldn’t .

Curiosity always got me in the best kinds of trouble.

I allowed my eyes to drift over him. He was tall, easily over six feet, with a lean athletic build that didn’t just wear confidence—he carried it. His skin was a deep bronze, smooth and warm toned. There was a thin scar curved under the corner of his left brow—subtle, but it made me wonder what kind of life he’d lived to earn it. His jaw was strong, lined perfectly with a full beard, and his mouth—full and well-shaped—curved into a smile that looked like it could ruin your life, or rewrite it at least.

It was his eyes that got me though. Just staring into them had all of my senses in a frenzy. They were rich brown, almond shaped, lined with thick lashes, and the focus in them felt too intimate for a room full of people. It was like he saw past the noise, the music, the rules. He saw me .

He was a distraction. A beautiful fucking distraction . A carved temptation, and should have been off limits, but… I couldn’t walk away.

I eased into the chair, crossing one of my legs over the other, purposely slow, in an attempt to deliver a statement— I’m not intimidated . But I was curious, a lot more than I wanted to admit honestly.

“You’re not on the guest list.” I stated after moments of silence, and realizing he wasn’t going to respond to what I had initially said. “How’d you get in?”

“Does it matter?”

His voice was low and smooth—like velvet being dragged across warm skin.

Lord, who is this man?

From those three words alone my body reacted before my mind could check it—nipples tightening beneath my blazer thighs squeezing tightly, breath hitching just a bit. He didn’t have to touch me. His voice alone felt like foreplay.

No temptation, Avani.

I had to gather myself quickly because I couldn’t allow myself to get caught up and lose control, especially not to a man that clearly knew what his voice could do judging by the smirk that he was now wearing.

“It does if I let the wrong man in.”

His smile spread a bit more—just slightly.

“I’m not the wrong man.” He lifted his glass but didn’t drink. “And you didn’t let me in.”

My eyes narrowed. “Then who did?”

“I let myself in.”

I laughed a little at his audacity.

“Interesting. And the mask?” I pointed to it sitting on the table. “House rules.”

“I’m not the kind of man who hides behind a mask,” he replied. “If I want to be seen, I will be .”

My brows lifted.

“And tonight that’s what you needed?” I asked. “To be seen.”

“No.” He leaned forward, folding his hands in front of him. “I wanted you to see me.”

I froze for a second because I wasn’t expecting that response. Again I found myself staring into his dark, mysterious eyes before I asked, “why are you here…” I paused waiting for his name.

“Sin.” He answered after a few seconds of silence. Only it wasn’t silent. Everything was still going on around us. It just felt like nothing else existed in this moment but us.

“Sin?” I repeated. “That’s your real name?”

“Naw.” He shook his head. “It’s just usually the only part of me that shows up.” He leaned closer into the table—that cocky, sinfully sexy smile in place. “And it usually gets what it wants.”

Heat coursed through my body hearing his name and little explanation behind it because his words were loaded, but I managed to keep my composure.

“Again, Sin , why are you here?”

“I told you—I go where I need to.” He let his words settle before he continued. “And tonight I needed to be sitting here across from you .”

“That’s a pretty line, Sin, but I don’t participate.”

He chuckled, sitting back in his seat, then repeating, “you don’t participate.”

“No. Observation only. It’s the rule.”

Velvet Secrets was mine. Every whisper that danced through the walls, every moan muffled behind velvet drapes, every secret spilled in the dark—it all belonged to me. The scent, the lighting, the carefully chosen shadows; it was my creation, my power, my playground.

And by my golden rule, I never played.

Watching was enough.

Controlling it from behind the scenes was enough.

Until he walked in. A stranger with heat in his eyes and temptation in his smile. For the first time, I toyed with the idea of breaking it.

“The clubs rule or yours?”

“It doesn’t matter. I don’t participate.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Because I own the place.”

There was a glimmer in his eye.

A look.

One that said he might know something that I didn’t.

“Why are you sitting here, beautiful?”

“Curiosity.” I admitted after his clarification.

He nodded slowly. “That’s usually where it starts.”

I angled my head to the side. “You think I’m going to make an exception?”

“I think,” he leaned in closer, careful to maintain eye contact with me, “you already have.”