Page 10 of Gilded Desires

He’ll find her and question her left and right then demand to see the surveillance. My new friend will dump me before I get a chance to even know her.

Deep breaths.

I go to reach for my phone but on second thought, I give in this easily, my brother will think he owns me like he does this city.

Soft music and the scent of expensive cigar smoke override the aroma of fresh flowers as I walk deeper into the entrance, my heels clicking on the black and gold marble. An elegant crystal chandelier hangs overhead, throwing a warm, welcoming glow over the soothing black interior. It’s a little after one in the afternoon so I am surprised to see members of The Society lounging on expensively upholstered settees.

But I guess there’s no set time to enjoy the company of another. Sex sells twenty-four hours a day.

It doesn’t hit me full force that I managed the first part of my plan until a fully nude woman walks past me. No, she’s not simply walking. The redhead practically glides on clouds. Light catches off the multi-facets of diamonds lining a thick black collar around her neck. Behind her are three men, one of them holding a studded leash. Possession glints in all their gazes and the way they show her off has my breath hitching in my chest. Her men adore her; there’s no doubt about it.

Fuck, that is hot.

I catch her eye and see nothing but pure bliss glittering behind thick lashes. My insides quiver with envy as she continuestoward the back where the words Mirror Room hang over black doors. To the side of the door is a solo number two in silver.

I want to know that feeling so badly.

Once they are gone, I’m left alone again.

I have to do this. I can’t turn back. My brother will be pissed, but Harlon needs to learn I’m not a schoolgirl in need of protection anymore.

I slide the newspaper from beneath my arm and turn to the half-page ad to read it over again.

Exotic location, self-discovery, full display. Discover your wilder side. Apply at The Gilded Key Society.

No other wording. Just the logo with a single key looped through the B of the name.

Self-discovery could literally mean anything, but it has to be something better than sitting in my penthouse suite waiting for something to happen to me. I’ve taken all the online schooling I can stomach. If I want a life beyond a computer screen, I’ll have to steal it.

I might as well start here. I refuse to meet my next birthday a freaking inexperienced virgin and this might be the answer.

“No, it is the answer. Confidence, Belle. Don’t start doubting yourself now.”

As long as it is not a cleaning position. Ugh. That would suck. I’m done playing the part of some perfect never-do-wrong princess in my brother’s eyes.

I finger the end of my wig and the hair that lies hidden beneath to make sure nothing is out of place. A couple of tugs on the low-cut frame of my dress tuck the girls back into their prison of silk and thread.

I look around for someone to point me in the right direction. Not finding anyone I continue down a long hallway in the direction the woman and her men took.

Dark marble turns to black carpet, masking my steps the deeper I venture. Passing the Mirror Room or room two depending on how you read it, I see another hallway that branches off. I head that way. There has to be someone who can tell me about this ad.

At the end of the hallway, I see the bold title “management” in gold lettering over polished black oak—I sense a running theme of black, gold and antique and it speaks of money. Lots of it.

I raise a hand and knock on the door. There’s no one else here so I guess not many people are looking to discover themselves. Yay me, right? We shall see…

A raspy, deep voice filters through the thick black wood. I reach for the gold handle and just as I turn it the door wooshes open and the darkest set of brown eyes laser through me.

“Yes?” he rumbles briskly, and I swear with a hand to the heavens my heart drops to the floor. And so does my brain.

I’ve never stuttered a day in my life, but my tongue seems to have frozen in my mouth at the sight of the man—no, beast—glaring down at me. Every muscle twitch sends off a ripple effect through the other muscles. He’s like a buffet of muscle wrapped in navy-blue cotton at the top and all sexy wranglers on the bottom. And are those cowboy boots?

“I…uh. Hi, um…”

Swoon, baby swoon.

All I know is Armani and Dolce & Gabbana. The men I’m around would die before letting themselves look like a cowboy.

Butfuuuckhe pulls it off in spades.

---