Page 5 of Reckless King

I take a moment to relish the satisfaction that brings as I down the last mouthful of my drink. “Excuse me, I see a woman across the room with my name on her.”

With a wink at Delilah, I leave them, navigating through a sea of immaculate tuxedos and flowing evening gowns. People approach me as I pass through the crowd, shaking my hand and attempting to curry favor, or in the case of many of the women, flirting and angling to secure a night in my bed. Not that my bed is ever on offer. Give me any other flat surface, though, and I’m good to go. Or I was, anyway. Despite what I said to Mom, there’s no woman here that interests me enough to stop my forward progress.

My phone beeps in my pocket, and I pull it out, using it as an excuse to step away from the curvy brunette currently trying to maintain my attention. It’s a message from my business partner, Reid.

I hope you’re planning to visit soon. We have matters to discuss.

I grin. Every message from Reid comes across sounding a little ominous. Maybe that’s because he’s a little ominous himself. Or at least that’s the impression he likes to give. He’s so tight-lipped about his past I wouldn’t be surprised if he did have some not-so-squeaky clean connections. But ithasbeen a while since I’ve been to Onyx, the club we co-own. And the idea of talking business over a drink suddenly seems a whole lot more appealing than being here.

I scan the room, taking in all the people focused on me,wantingsomething from me. Fuck it. Roman might have something to say about it if he finds out I left early, but for tonight at least, I’m done caring. Securing his good opinion may be a pipe dream anyway.

Buy me a drink tonight and I’m all yours.

If you’re lucky, I’ll stretch to two. But you better put out.

With a chuckle, I slide my phone back into my pocket, loosen my tie and head toward the exit.

CHAPTER THREE

VIOLET

Itake in my reflection in the mirror as I dab at my red lipstick. When was the last time I got this dressed up? Having to ask myself that question guarantees it’s been too long. But it’s not going out for the first time in a while that has me jittery tonight; it’swhereI’m going.

From the moment I agreed to go with Anna until now, I’ve avoided really thinking about the whole concept of visiting a sex club. It was easier just to leave it as an abstract idea. Now that I’ve been approved as a guest and I’m preparing to step firmly outside my comfort zone, nerves are practically vibrating through me.

Anna, though, is untroubled. She dances over with two glasses of white wine and passes one to me. Her expression is soft when she meets my gaze in the mirror. “You look beautiful.”

I smile back. “You do too.” Her glossy dark curls and espresso-brown eyes are a vibrant contrast to my wavy brownish-blond hair and blue eyes. My coloring is an echo of my mom’s. I don’t remember her, since she died when I was a toddler, but the fact that I take after her is obvious based on the family photos Dad used to keep on the wall, as well as the one I have on my nightstand now.

I eye Anna’s outfit. She’s wearing a plunging red halter top and skin-tight leather pants that highlight all of her curves. I arch a brow at the pants. “I don’t know much about sex clubs, but I assumed the easier the access, the better.”

She laughs. “True. But I’m not planning on giving anyone access tonight.”

I swing around to face her. “I thought you were going to be, you know, doing stuff. It’s your last chance, right?”

She shrugs. “Tonight’s about you. I don’t intend to do more than drink, flirt and dance.”

“And people really do that there? Just that?”

“Of course. It’s still a place to connect with people and have fun. But that fun can progress to the X-rated variety if you want. You know, for that stress relief.” She gives me a grin.

I wrap my arms around her, breathing in the light floral perfume she always likes to wear. “Thank you for being such a good friend.” My vision goes blurry as she squeezes me tightly. I might be a little emotional, but it’s moments like these that make me beyond grateful that Anna chose to sit next to me on our first day of junior high.

“You’d do the same for me,” she says, stepping back and holding me at arm’s length. “I want you to feel good about yourself again. That cheating asshole had no right making you feel like less than the amazing woman you are. I wasn’t there to stand by you then, so the least I can do is help you shove him firmly in your rearview mirror now. And what better way to do that than by getting your freak on with a hot, rich man you never have to see again?” She releases me, then slaps me on my ass, making me yelp. “Now come on. Let’s finish these drinks and get going. Once you’re there, you’ll feel a lot more relaxed.”

“Okay.” I tip my wineglass back and take a big gulp. A little extra courage never hurt anyone, right? With one last run through of my hair with my fingers, I turn and face the bedwhere my mask awaits. Anna ordered it for me. According to her, the masks they wear at this club aren’t the frilly, lacy kind that barely conceal anything.

The one she chose for me matches the small butterfly tattoo on my back—the result of a spur-of-the-moment decision after I broke up with Eric and realized how free I suddenly felt. Cliché, I know, but I love it anyway. The mask itself is expertly shaped from a thin layer of supple leather and is painted in vibrant shades of blue and purple and black. When it’s on, it covers my face from the bottom of my cheeks to the top of my forehead, the edges sweeping up from the eyeline to emulate wings. Each one is scattered with tiny jewel-colored crystals that catch the light and shimmer iridescently. The only parts of my face that will be visible once I put it on will be my jaw, my mouth, and my eyes.

Anna gently takes the mask from my hands. “I’ll put it on for you. We need to be wearing them when we arrive.”

Another wave of nerves cascades over me. I wet my suddenly dry lips, then give her a nod and turn so she can tie the silk ribbons. Then I do the same for her mask, which is designed to resemble peacock feathers. The leather is dyed in a beautiful gradient of blues, greens and golds. Like mine, it’s adorned with crystals for added sparkle.

When I’m done, we stand side by side in front of the mirror.

“Wow,” I breathe. The result is breathtaking—and strangely intoxicating. The anonymity provided by the masks eases some of the tension that has been plaguing me for the last few days. I can be anyone I want with this on. And as I study my reflection, I think I might just be a woman who’s finally ready to breathe life back into the banked sparks of her desire.

The Uber pulls upoutside a discreet entrance nestled between two unassuming buildings in a quieter part of Manhattan. There’s no indication of the club’s presence other than a man in a tailored black suit standing outside a plain black door. Rather than the stereotypical big, burly bouncer, this guy is compact and neatly put together. The intensity with which he scrutinizes Anna and me as we approach, though, makes it clear that he knows how to take care of trouble.

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