Page 13 of Red Velvet

Her confusion is endearing, but her intoxication spoils the moment, accelerating every emotion she's going through and making it hard to control or anticipate her next reaction. It puts me in a difficult situation, because someone as drunk as her is hard to control, hard to own without overstepping a line. I need to be ready for whatever her hammered brain has in store.

However, there's nothing that could’ve prepared me for her next question.

She looks up at me, her eyes dazed and flickering with wonder.

"Is this what people do in The Velvet Rooms?" she asks, a telltale blush blossoming on her pretty face.

Chapter 8

Lila

A dark flutter scurries across his face in response to my question. Like the shadow of a passing plane, it's gone as quickly as it appeared, but it was there long enough to make me regret my words. I shouldn't have been so blunt—I never am. The damn alcohol is making my tongue move on its own.

Why did I even mention The Velvet Rooms? It's more than likely that the question doesn't even make sense to him, because how would he know?

My pondering discomfort is quickly replaced by shock when he responds to my question with another one.

"How do you know about The Velvet Rooms?"

His voice is laced with worry and tension, and he fixates on me through narrow eyes—like someone who’s just been caught doing something wrong.

Shit. If he knows about the Velvet Rooms, that means…

"You've been there," I conclude. "You're a customer at that place."

"Why do you mention The Velvet Rooms? How do you know about them?"

Instead of replying to his inquiry, I just sit there, eyes wide and lips parted as if I was about to speak. My lower lip quivers while I continue my search for the right words.

It would be easy to tell him the truth. My sister. I know about that place because she’s not only been there but worked there until she met her husband.

But it's not exactly like she's advertising her past, and it feels wrong to just blurt it out to a random guest at her wedding.

"Have you ever been there?" he presses, and I shake my head on instinct.

"No," I blurt out, still violently shaking my head. "I just… I've never been there, but…."

I pause, and as I try to gather an excuse, any story that would explain my knowledge of The Velvet Rooms without having to mention Elene, I realize he managed to circumnavigate the question I posed by turning the tables.

"I’ve never been there," I repeat, defiantly straightening myself as I catch his dark gaze. "But you have, right?"

He sighs, and for a moment I fear he still plans on denying me a response, fueling a growing anger within my chest. But when he slowly nods, that anger is replaced with something that carries a lot more weight.

Disappointment.

"Yes, I’ve been there," he admits. "Quite a few times, actually."

I swallow dryly, trying to understand why that knot in my throat exists. Why does this bother me? I don't know this man, but from what little I've experienced with him tonight, this shouldn't shock or even surprise me. And yet it hurts to hear it.

"Are you… have you—"

"That doesn't matter. What matters to me is why you brought it up."

I bite my lip, unsure what to say. Why did I bring it up? The truth is I don't know. Because it popped up in my head when he said those things about me not wanting another nice boy, when he closed his hand around my throat and threatened to choke me, when he looked at me with those knowing eyes, as if he saw something no one else has seen there before. Something I've been hiding so well that evenI’mnot entirely sure it's there.

Because it scares me. That yearning, that flaring desire to be dominated, to be hurt.

It's terrifying.

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