Page 52 of Claiming Atlas

I laugh. “Probably smart.” I step out of the car and close the door, then nod at Red. “But come in and check it out with me, bro.”

Red’s shoulders fall. “Fine, but if something jumps out at me, I’m fucking gone, man.” He climbs out of the car, then looks back at the driver. “Five minutes. Tops.”

I shake my head. “You’re a fucking pussy, Red.”

He shrugs as he stands beside me. We both look up at the building.

“Doesn’t look like much.”

I shake my head. “No shit.”

The invitation mentioned stripping me of my sight, but I’m relieved as we enter and it’s not pitch black inside. Weird shit can happen in the dark. The room glows with pale lavender lighting that shines up from the floor. The walls are white, draped with sheer white fabric. Large, perfectly round, mattress-like chairs dot the room. They’re tufted white leather and look almost cloudlike. People sprawl out on them, or sit on the edges as they chat over their pre-dinner cocktails. I look down at my empty hands and a server appears out of nowhere.

I like this place already.

He picks up a short glass of amber liquid and extends it toward me. “Fizzy Old Fashioned, sir?”

I reach for it, then pause, my outstretched hand open midair. “What?”Did he say fizzy?

He forces a smile that looks painful. Then raises the glass. One perfectly square ice cube sits in the center of the glass, surrounded by amber liquid, a thick curl of shaved orange peel sitting on top of the cube. “Fizzy Old Fashioned. The mistress has chosen to add bubbles to tonight’s cocktails.”

I raise an eyebrow and glance over at Red.The mistress?Intrigued, I take the drink and bring it to my nose as I look around the room. Mistress means whips and chains, yeah? Is that what I’m here for tonight? To dominate someone? I’m down.

“Never knew you were into bondage, boss.”

I laugh, then glance at Red. “I’ll try everything once.”

He grunts a laugh, then shoves his hands into the pockets of his leather coat.

“You can go, bro. I don’t think anyone’s out to get me here.” I look around the room. “And not a Banger in sight, so I probably won’t get mauled.”

Red laughs. “What will you do with yourself while unsupervised?”

A blonde playmate from the last Hometown Hotties issue strolls past, giving me an invitation with the way she drags her gaze up and down my body. “I’m sure I’ll entertain myself somehow.” I look at Red. “But, seriously, man, see what you can find out for me, all right? If that chick was Kincaid Summers, track her down.”

Red’s eyebrows fly up into his red hair. “Going back for sec—?”

“Don’t even finish that thought.”

He shrugs, then starts to head back to the entrance.

“And go feed your fat ass, will ya? You’re wasting away.”

Red flips me the bird as he disappears into the night.

I take a sip of the custom cocktail, and the bubbles tickle my throat on their way down. I tilt my head. Huh. Not bad. Like... more refreshing than whiskey, but still a damn good burn.

“Delightful, isn’t it?”

My ears perk up at the sound of her voice. My dick perks up as well. The woman from the plane.

I turn slowly, wetting my lips with my tongue. At least I know who to thank for the invitation to this shindig. I should have known.

When our eyes meet, she smiles, and my dick nods his hello. She rakes her gaze down my body, her eyebrows rising just slightly when she reaches my pants, like she’s remembering my dick in her mouth, then she reaches out to run her fingers over the lapel of my coat. “Fioravanti,” she practically purrs, meeting my gaze once more.

She knows her suits. I was right; she comes from alotof money.

Shiny fabric covers her from shoulders to toes, flowing out around her body with the wispiness of fog. Ethereal.

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