Page 31 of Ruthless Reign

He’s been awfully quiet today, and I wonder if it has to do with last night, with the charged moment between us when my body confused his comfort with something more. But I can’t deny the sparks that flare in my chest every time he’s close. He poured a cup of coffee for me this morning, and I nearly dry humped his leg. And earlier tonight, seeing Roman in a tux was nearly my undoing.

Two uniformed valets materialize from the night and open our doors, one gently helping Kira and the other assisting me step out of the car.

Roman comes around the hood. With one arm resting against the roof of the car, he lowers his head to have a word with Feliks through the open window. I don’t know what he says, but Feliks nods solemnly and drives off.

Roman straightens and pulls at each cuff of his suit. Tall, dark, and undeniably handsome, he looks like a broody James Bond. It’s going to be a long night.

For once, Feliks and Bogdan aren’t accompanying us inside. Kira said something about security already being very tight and the guest list exclusive. I don’t think Roman is thrilled about any of this, but Kira is convincing when she wants to be.

Kira leads the way into the townhouse. The exterior's simplicity gives way to a luxurious interior, where burgundy velvet wallpaper lines the walls and crystal chandeliers cast a warm light.

A beautiful woman in a sleek black dress steps forward and takes Kira’s hand. “Welcome back to Sanctuary, Mrs. Belov. Thank you for bringing your friends along.”

Welcome back?

I raise my eyebrows, but Kira just offers me a little shrug.

“I’m Paulina, the club’s manager.” Tall, elegant, and poised, she reminds me of a former ballet dancer. She looks to be in her mid-forties, but I can’t really tell because she’s wearing a Zorro mask.

Interesting.

At the snap of her fingers, two muscular men wearing only leather pants and the same masks as Paulina enter the room to take our jackets.

My mouth goes dry. I mean, the view’s not bad, but spending our last night in London at a high-end male strip club is not exactly what I pictured. I throw Kira a “what the fuck” look, but she doesn’t seem fazed. She responds with a shrug and wink.

My eyes flick to Roman, but he won’t look my way. He stands stock-still, jaw hard, focused on an unknown point in the distance.

I release a heavy breath. “The show will start in an hour,” Paulina informs us. “Feel free to head inside, enjoy a drink, and make yourselves comfortable.” A gentle smile grows on her lips. “The rules are simple: no using your real names, no phones, no cameras, and don’t forget to mask up.” She holds up a little black masquerade mask like the one she wears. “The rest is about enjoying yourselves.”

Huh? This is getting weirder by the second.

Paulina, perhaps sensing my nerves, sidles up to me. “Turn around,” she murmurs in my ear.

When I do, she takes the delicate masquerade mask and begins to tie it around my head. Her fingers brush against my skin with a deliberate slowness. I hold my breath as a shiver coasts down my back.

“This must be new for you,” Paulina whispers, her breath caressing my ear as she secures the mask. “My advice is to just let go. You might discover something about yourself here."

The masks, the half-naked guys, the advice to just let go… I’m definitely missing something here, but there’s no point in asking questions because Kira is already leading the way down a small hallway, which soon opens up into the main space.

Wow.

I stop in my tracks and take it all in. I expected more of an ultramodern club vibe, but no, this place is something different altogether. It’s like stepping back in time to a 1920s speakeasy.

People are chatting at the bar with cocktails or in front of various nooks set up around the room that’s flanked by fireplaces and bear skin rugs. There’s no stage, which I find confusing because Paulina said the show starts in an hour. Like Roman, the men are all wearing tuxedos, though I can confirm that none look as good as him. The women’s dress code is much more varied. Some are wearing dresses, like Kira and myself, but the rest are wearing… Well, not all that much. Fine lace bras, thongs, garter belts, and super high heels.

I turn to Kira. “Is this … a sex club?” I’m worried about the answer because if it is, what the hell is she thinking? I don’t belong here.

Roman lets out a strangled cough, then grumbles something about keeping watch from the bar before he stalks off.

Kira chews the inside of her cheek. “Strictly speaking, yes, but that’s not why we’re here. We’re here to enjoy the entertainment—like live theater, but sexier.” When I grimace, she holds up her hands. “I get it. You’ve never done anything like this before, but it’s just one night of your life. No one has to know. Just one night to see and experience incredible things.”

I’m speechless. “Kira… This is crazy.”

Her gaze sweeps the room and then lands back on me. “Why is it crazy to get a taste of what good sex looks like before you get married and lose your V?”

Jesus. I nearly cough up a lung. “Excuse me?”

“Anatoly will be the only man you ever sleep with for your whole life.” She makes a face, unable to hide her distaste. “You won’t even know if it’s good or, let’s face it, most likely bad. You’ll just think that’s what sex is. At least see what pleasure looks like for yourself, up close and personal.”

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