Page 8 of The Player

Fitzwallace had been as good as his word. Earlier in the day, a private messenger had delivered the most exquisite amethyst and pale pink diamond choker with a stunning amethyst pendant dropping from the center. Seth had shaken his head. One thing about Fitz, he knew how to pick out a collar any submissive would be proud to wear.

As they entered Baker Street, Seth felt Hope stiffen beside him as they walked in, her hand gripping his arm a little too tightly. She was nervous, though she would never admit it. This was a world they both knew well, but it was different this time. This time they weren’t just observers or participants—they were players in a deadly game, and one wrong move could cost them everything.

They were greeted by a tall, imposing man who introduced himself as Adam, the club’s managing Dom, although both he and Hope were well-acquainted with him. He eyed them both with a calculating gaze, clearly sizing them up, before breaking into a broad smile.

“Mr. and Mrs. Conway, welcome to Baker Street,” he said smoothly, his voice dripping with charm. “It’s good to see you again.”

“Good to see you, as well,” Seth replied, slipping into his role with ease.

He wrapped an arm around Hope’s waist, pulling her close and pressing a kiss to her temple, feeling her tense under his touch. She was doing her best to play along, but he could sense her discomfort and the unease that roiled in her gut. Hargrove had been their target for months, but now that they were finally close enough to touch him, the stakes felt higher than ever.

“Your playing privileges are in order, so I’ll have you buzzed in. Do you need an escort?” Adam asked, his smile widening.

“No. It’s been a while since we’ve been here, but I’m sure we’ll be fine.”

Adam nodded, his eyes flicking briefly to Hope before returning to Seth. “We’re delighted to have you with us again. Please enjoy yourselves, and if we can be of assistance, just let someone on the staff know.”

Seth thanked him, and Adam disappeared as the receptionist activated the locking mechanism that would allow them into the bowels of the club. Seth glanced down at Hope, who was scanning the room with a critical eye, her body still rigid against his.

“Relax,” he murmured, leaning in close so only she could hear. “We’re supposed to be in love and having a good time, remember?”

Hope shot him a glare, but forced herself to soften, leaning into his embrace as they moved deeper into the club. They needed to be seen, to be noticed, and more importantly, to be convincing. They separated, with Hope going into the submissives’ salon and Seth entering the men’s changing room. When they emerged, Seth was wearing dark, chocolate-brown leathers—pants and an open vest—and Hope was dressed in a corset and thong made of vintage copper and bronze silk brocade which had been designed to coordinate with Seth’s leathers.

“You look stunning,” he murmured against her temple before placing a light kiss there.

“You know how I hate thongs.”

“Careful, Hope, or you’ll find yourself without anything on but the corset and my collar. Be thankful I didn’t want to have you wear stilettos.”

“The only stiletto I want is one to stab you in the heart with,” she seethed.

Seth’s hand connected with her ass in a slap that was designed to get her thinking straight, which included reminding her who was the Dom and who was the sub. Hope stifled a gasp, but something seemed to settle within her. Maybe that was the problem; maybe Hope needed a Dom for this assignment more than a partner willing to follow her lead.

As they made their way through the crowd, Seth kept one arm around Hope, his hand resting on her hip in a gesture that was meant to look possessive. He could feel the tension in her body, the way she resisted every time he touched her, and it only fueled his determination to break through her defenses.

They found a spot near the back of the lounge, close enough to be seen but far enough away to maintain a semblance of privacy. Seth ordered drinks, keeping one hand on Hope’s waist as they waited.

“You need to loosen up,” he said quietly, his voice gentle but firm. “People are watching. If you act like you’re uncomfortable with me, they’ll notice.”

Hope took a deep breath, trying to calm herself, but he could see the struggle in her eyes. “I’m fine,” she insisted, though the tremor in her voice said otherwise.

Seth leaned in, his lips brushing against her ear as he spoke. “You’re not fine. You’re wound so tight you’re going to snap. You need to let go, Hope. Just for tonight. Trust me.”

Her breath hitched, and he could feel her wavering, caught between the urge to pull away and the desire to do exactly what he was asking. She closed her eyes for a moment, as if gathering her strength, before finally nodding.

“Okay,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the music. “I’ll try.”

Seth’s heart clenched at the vulnerability in her voice, and he tightened his grip on her waist, pulling her even closer. “That’s all I’m asking,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

The drinks arrived, and they spent the next hour mingling with the other club members, making small talk and subtly gathering information. Seth kept his arm around Hope the entire time, not just because it was expected, but because he wanted to. He needed to feel her close, needed to remind himself that they were in this together, even if she wasn’t ready to admit it.

As the night wore on, they finally caught sight of Hargrove, who was holding court in a private alcove with a group of well-dressed men and women. He spotted them almost immediately and waved them over, his face breaking into a wide grin.

“It’s Seth and Hope Conway, right? We’re just a few doors down from one another. I’ve been meaning to pay a visit,” Hargrove exclaimed, rising to his feet as they approached. He greeted them both with a warm handshake, his eyes flicking between them with interest. “How are you settling in?”

“Fine,” Seth replied with a smile. “We’ve been busy, but we missed visiting Baker Street. It was one of the reasons we opted to move to London.”

“And I’m sure Baker Street has missed you,” Hargrove said, his gaze lingering on Hope for a moment longer than necessary. “Your sub is lovely, Seth. All those luscious curves.”

---