Page 13 of Gilded Desires

A hidden panel swings open and I’m ushered through to another room that is much the same as the last. At my back, there are a lot of gasps and harsh whispers. I don’t give them a second thought.

A gentle touch settles on the dip in my back guiding me through the doorway. How can his hand feel so warm when the man most definitely is not? I turn a genuine smile up at him as I pass into the next room.

Does this mean I advanced to the next level?

The click of the panel snicking closed behind us says I might not be serving drinks or cleaning toilets after all. Score! But I just followed a strange man into a dark room. Not good.

I drag my eyes off the exotic females performing sex shows beyond the soundproof viewing windows to find two more men with an open bottle of whiskey between them.

I gasp, my heart jumping into my throat. “Oh, hello,” I say with confidence I don’t feel.

A wall of warmth radiates around me from Mr. Sinfully Gorgeous coming to stand close enough that I can feel the heat of his body brush against mine.

The hand on the dip of my back returns and he gently pushes me deeper into the room, whispering, “We won’t bite, sweetheart,” in a husky growl that sends mixed signals straight to my clit. I like my murder mysteries and true crime podcasts, but I don’t want to become one.

My mind sputters between wanting to be here and hitting the door at top speed. “Where am I?” Answers then decisions.

“In a private office in The Gilded Key Society. You’re safe here. No harm will come to you. You have my word.”

I didn’t know him from a stranger on the street. But the way he holds my hand in one of his and keeps his other on my back, lightly caressing me through the thin fabric of my dress soothes my nerves.

He turns his head and says to the other men, “Gentleman, this is Belle Sinclair. She’s come to audition for the position in the newspaper.” He walks forward and takes a seat next to the other two, leaving me where I stand.

I clutch my Birkin, suddenly not as brave.

“Have you explained what the position is?” The stranger with deep green eyes has a deep baritone that reminds me of honey pouring over firewood. Rough yet smooth. And he’s definitely from the same part of the country as the other man. It’s hard to shed a southern lilt. This one has the kind of cowboy chin that melts the panties off a woman. I should know. Mine are about to drop around my ankles any second and he hasn’t even addressed me yet.

His observant gaze lingers on my curves for a moment before coming to meet my gaze.

“Not exactly.” Humor colors Mr. Sinfully Gorgeous’ tone.

I swallow heavily as I look between all three.

The one with the blue eyes hasn’t spoken yet. He scrubs the back of his knuckles over what looks like a three-day-old scruff clearly annoyed with the other man. The dark shadows along his jawline make his eyes all the more vibrant. “Fuck, Gage. Don’t you think you should have led with that? She’s gotta be freaking out.”

That’s the third man. The soft lighting in the room throws his face in shadow and that country boy twang matches the others.

Three cowboys and a mafia princess meet in the back of a sexy club. Sounds like a joke, but the rising heat in my core says this is all too real.

“So you do have a name,” I quip, swinging my eyes to Mr. Sinfully Gorgeous. He pushes off the table he was leaning against and extends his large hand. I slide mine into his for a second time. Skin moving over skin ignites a firestorm of energy when our touch collides.

“Gage Preston.”

I watch his mouth move, spellbound by the country drawl. After years with filthy mafia men who’d rather grunt and pull triggers than talk, the sound of his voice is sexy. And reassuring.

“Gage Preston,” I say with a bit more wobble in my voice than I want to admit.

Both men look to be about Mr. Sinfully Gorgeous’ age. I can only go on the fine creases at the edges of their eyes and the experience in their expressions, but I’d say they are in their mid to late thirties. There’s definitely not a baby face between them. They’ve seen darkness in their lives, lots of it. I might not be as tied into the family business as my brother, but I know the shadows death leave behind and these men have dealt with the reaper plenty.

“Let’s stop pussy-footing around. We don’t have all the time in the world. Raja will be pissed if we let another day go by. Strip, baby girl. It’s what you’re here for.”

That’s Green Eyes. He’s leaning back on a chair, ankle propped up on a knee looking impatient.

My eyebrows climb high. “Excuse me? I don’t know what I am here for, admittedly, but I figured a little smooth talking would be involved before we got to second base. Or is that third?”

Blue Eyes stands and leans his heavy weight against the table, hooking his ankles. The way he crosses his built arms over a broad chest might be sexy as hell, but that doesn’t mean I am ready to drop my dress on command.

“You’re here about the job in the paper, right? That involves seeing the goods we are working with. Please strip.”

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