Page 424 of Rage

One Night Of Vengeance

By: Cassia Quinn

Chapter One

Ginevra

The blue satin dress hugs my every curve, and I straighten to my full petite height. I’m feeling more comfortable in my own skin than I have in forever—maybe even for the very first time in my life. I’ve worked through a lot of my issues in this past year. It’s been quite the healing process.

My hand tightens around Blake’s arm, and he glances down at me. “Are you all right, magpie?”

I nod, offering him a genuine smile. We’re at the grand opening celebration for the most stunningly opulent sex club I’ve ever seen. Owned and operated by one of Blake’s associates, we have to attend and congratulate him, not to mention see what all the fuss is about. The owner’s been posting vague but alluring teasers across social media for months now.

All around us, couples—and trios—are dressed to the nines, while scantily clad men and women move seductively on platforms placed throughout the main room. At both ends, there’s a bar, with booths and tables occupying the perimeter, spaced out between ornate pillars that give varying amounts of privacy.

We approach the bar and Blake orders for us. “Glenlivet, neat, and a lemon drop with extra sugar on the rim.”

Warmth spreads through me as Blake orders my favorite cocktail, without a disgusted sneer on his lips for once. I’m not the only one who’s changed in the last year or so.

Our drinks arrive and Blake lifts his in the air, clinking the glass against mine. “Here’s to a night of debauchery. I can’t wait to test out one of the private rooms.”

I sip my drink, blushing, my heart rate picking up at all the naughty images flitting through my imagination. What does Blake have in mind for tonight?

“I thought this was just a social call, then we’d be heading home.”

A wicked glint shines in his bright blue eyes. “That was my original plan, but now that we’re here, why don’t we indulge a little?” He leans closer, his breath hot in my ear. “I want to tie you up, magpie, and fuck you until you scream my name. How does that sound, Mrs. Baron?”

“Yes,” I breathe out. Butterflies flutter in my stomach every time he calls meMrs. Baron.

“In that case, let’s?—”

His phone rings. Without looking, he pushes the button to ignore the call. It immediately starts ringing again.

“Fuck.” Glancing at his cell, his luscious lips form a tight line. “I have to take this. Privately. Stay in this room.”

“I’ll be fine. Find me when you get back.”

With a frown drawing his brows together, he nods, then makes for the exit. Hopefully, he won’t be gone for too long. I’m already trembling with anticipation of how the rest of this night will go.

Not so long ago, the mere idea of being tied up and helpless threw me into a panic. Until Blake changed everything for me. I trust him. I know he’ll never hurt me unless I ask him to, and even then, the pain feels so good. I love how he takes control,how I can let myself go in his hands. Never did I think that could be possible until now, until him.

I loiter at the bar, studying the unfamiliar faces in the sea of people around me. The room is packed. Seems like this grand opening is a hit.

A group of partiers surge toward the bar, so I step aside to make room for them. That’s when I notice the walkway around the perimeter of the room, behind the seating areas. I step into the less crowded space and sip my cocktail while studying the art on the wall. Each piece is tall and narrow, framed with molding.

Further down the walkway, a soft click catches my attention, and one of the pieces of art swings open to reveal a private room beyond. Are each of these panels actually a door? Clever.

“Ginevra Pontrelli?”

I whirl around at the sound of my maiden name, coming face-to-face with a tall, dark-haired man. He seems familiar, but I can’t think of his name.

At my silence, he says, “It’s me. Carl Jones the third.” When I continue to draw a blank, he leans closer, his cologne cloying. “You rode my dick at Greer’s party two years ago.”

I’m not sure if it’s his vulgar description of what we did or the jarring scent of his cologne, but the faintest of memories surface.The spitter. That’s right, this guy shoved me into the pool house and couldn’t wait to get me wet, so he spit on his cock and fucked me. I was so wasted I’m surprised I even remember that much about the encounter.

Carl Jones III grins down at me. “It’s good to see you again, Gin. Especially in a place like this. Want to get a room? We can have another go at it.”

That idea makes me queasy.

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