Page 8 of Burn With Me

There’s a shuffling of feet and a few murmurs, before I hear the unmistakable sound of a door opening. As I step over the threshold, I’m hit with the sweet scent of cigars and roses, so thick that I’m sure it will stick to my suit once I leave.

We take a few more steps, and I hear the door close behind us, before my uncle pulls the blindfold off, and my sight is returned. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the dim lighting, but once they do, I see we’re standing in the middle of a long hallway.

Floors made of deep mahogany wood gleam under our feet as we make our way down the quiet hall. The walls are dark, perhaps black or navy, with a cream damask pattern that seems to shine like gold the longer I look at it. My eyes flit up to the ceiling, where there are crystal chandeliers that look like petals suspended in the air, spaced out enough to ensure that the lighting stays low.

My uncle reaches out and pulls me back into the middle of the hall, saving me from walking right into a small table against the wall. There are dozens of them spaced between shiny black doors, housing large vases filled with white roses.

“What’s with all the roses?” My attention turns from the decor to him. There’s a distant hum of voices and music coming from ahead, where the hall ends at another door.

“There’s a different color rose for each wing, as well as different Angels. It’ll take you time to figure it all out. I’m taking you to the Grand Room now–it’s where everyone congregates before the activities begin.”

“Angels?”

As we reach the end of the hall, he turns to me and holds out a plain black mask that I didn’t notice he was holding before. Motioning to it, he puts one over his head, concealing the top half of his face. “Yes, Angels. There are three tiers ofthem–gold, black, and platinum.Gold Angelsare for this wing, the Confessional wing. They talk and put on a show if they want to. But there’s no touching allowed.Black Angelswork in the Dreamers wing–you can touch them, but you can’t fuck them.Platinum Angelsare in the Desires wing. Anything goes in that wing as long as all parties consent.

“Masks have to be worn at all times. We have a variety to choose from for the clients, and if you want to bring your own, you can. But for tonight, this should be fine.”

Reaching up to secure the mask around my face, I mull over the information he gave me with a smirk. “I still can’t believe you’ve kept this from me for so long. You don’t know me very well if you think I’m not gonna have fun in this place.”

“Carmela is right, Jackson. This isn’t a playground!” he snaps back. “These aren’t the type of men who want their dirty laundry getting out, and these aren’t the type of women you fuck and kick out of your penthouse. Everyone respects everyone here. Mick and I don’t even know who half the people here are. Carmela is the only one who knows the identities of everyone. It’s best kept that way. The last thing I need is for you to go sticking your cock in places it shouldn’t be.”

“Why bring me then?” I try to keep the annoyance out of my voice, but fail miserably. “Why is it so important to you that I get brought into this as a partner? I’d rather have a good time.”

“And I’d rather you grow the fuck up already!” His voice echoes in the empty hall, and I grit my teeth to stop myself from replying.

All I am is a fuck up in his eyes. Even if he has faith in me, the disappointment always shows more. It’s why the board of our company wants me out. Because they can see that not even he thinks I can do my job correctly.

The thing is, I’m damn good at my job. The company makes more money because of me.I’mthe one who makes the deals,buys the companies, and breaks them down to sell them off.Imake the merger deals. Tailor Industries is a multi-billion dollar conglomerate. And it’smewho has my hands in every part of it.

My extra-curricular activities have no bearing on how well I close a deal. For years, they’ve continued to treat me like a child, and just like I told my uncle earlier, keep treating me like one, and I’ll keep acting like one.

If they would just leave me be, then maybe I wouldn’t go out of my way to prove them right. You’d think I’d want to prove them wrong, but I don’t. I’m a Tailor, and Tailor men don’t beg for approval.

My silence must placate him because, without another word, he reaches out and opens the door. Suddenly, the hall fills with soft instrumental jazz and chattering voices. Following him, I abruptly stop just inside the door to take in my new surroundings.

The Grand Room is brighter, though just barely–the larger-than-life chandelier in the center of the room and a giant circular bar directly underneath it are the only things giving off light. There are various sectionals, sofas, and loveseats scattered throughout the large space, all crushed velvet the color of cinnamon.

But that isn’t what catches my immediate attention.

Women–and men–are walking through the crowd, wearing nothing but lingerie…andwings.

Shimmering gold, shiny black, and silvery platinum feather wings.

This must be what my uncle meant when he saidAngels.

“Quite a sight, isn’t it?” he asks lowly.

There are a lot of questions I want to ask, but I settle for, “Why are the wings so big? Doesn’t that defeat the purpose of getting close to the clients?”

He chuckles and claps me on the back. “This is why I want you on board, Jackson. I pull you into a room full of half-naked women, and the first thing you ask is a question drivenby a client’s experience that may have them deciding not to return.”

Glancing at him out of the corner of my eye, I shrug, not caring about anything he just said and only wondering why they’d make it harder to touch the Angels.

“The wings stand out a foot on each side, purposefully making it harder to reach out and grab. If a client gets handsy, they get removed immediately. Remember what I said about consent? The Angels have full control here. If they want to be touched, they’ll invite you to a room. If you ask for them and they decline, you leave it at that. Not thatyou’llbe sampling the fare.”

Fuck if I won’t be.

There are enough leggy blondes and brunettes to keep me busy for days. Even though everyone is wearing masks, I don’t miss the way eyes light up, or darken, as we walk further into the room. We go straight to the bar, and he orders two Macallan neats as I turn around and continue my perusal.

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