Page 38 of Masked in Deception
“What about Marco?” I ask, forcing him to voice the accusation he’s trying to level at me. The fact that this man thinks he has any right to be jealous of Marco after shooing me away like a stray dog is, well. Just like a man, I suppose.
“You have other things you’d rather be doing, like Marco?” he asks, and I’m impressed he has the balls to double down.
“I would never mix business with pleasure, Mr. Carter. Marco is a beloved friend and colleague, and I rely on his opinions and those of hishusbandregularly.”
He has the decency to look a little sheepish, but he’s not getting away with being inappropriate in our fucking workplace like that without consequences.
“If, however, I did want to mix business with pleasure…” I pause for effect and dramatically look at where Marco stands—tall, lean, and with the style and grace of a born-and-raised Italian man. I turn back to make eye contact with Jack. “If I did want pleasure, he’s certainly the type of man I’ve been craving it from lately.”
I walk to the side table where my coat and bag sit and begin suiting myself up to brave the New York weather and get on with the rest of my day. I’m not at all surprised to find Jack following me with clenched fists.
“He’s half Italian, half French, you know,” I say as I put on my gloves. “Individually, talented lovers, but the combination tends to be, well...” I meet his eyes once more and smirk when I see a vein in his forehead that might pop. “The combination is devastating.”
My work here isso donefor the day, and I call Marco over to shake Jack’s tense hand and join me as we head across town to the promotional event. I’m sure Jack is seething, vein still pulsating. But I wouldn’t know because I don’t look back.
Marco, his husband Mark—they love it, and have a cute thing where they play Mark/Marco Polo when they can’t find each other in a crowd—and I are enjoying a late evening dinner and drinks after a highly successful event. I don’t work out for nothing, and some of the first images from the afternoon show a chic woman with killer back muscles wearing tens of millions of dollars in diamonds and a smile. It was the most fun I’ve had in a while, and I think the storefront and the jewelry store collaboration are both going to be perfect. The Rendezvous Too Valentine’s Day auction, on the other hand, is giving me a headache and might end up being more trouble than it’s worth.
My face clearly shows my change in mood, and Mark, who isn’t my employee and has no qualms telling me exactly what he thinks, says, “When was the last time you got dicked down?”
Marco chokes on his martini and slaps his husband on the shoulder. Mark puts his hands up placatingly. “I’m sorry, but tell me it isn’t true. You moved, you’ve had a ton going on since you got to New York, and you’re vexed by this project. You need a really good one-night stand. At least try to establish a regular rotation like you had in France. An American Michel.”
He’s not wrong. I had no shortage of partners in my two years overseas, although I was just starting to explore some of my less vanilla interests. After our French film experience, Michel and I barely dabbled in some play, but he was so sensual in his daily life that passion was never something we needed any help with.
“You know, I know you wouldn’t be caught dead at Jack’s club as a patron. But there is another club around here that we’ve been to. They’re legit. Background checks, testing, the works. They aren’t really competitors with Rendezvous Toobecause instead of theme nights and kink exhibitions, they facilitate more anonymous fantasies. Glory holes and whatnot. Like a hookup app but with testing and safe rooms with panic buttons. It’s really clean and nice,” Marco says, and I appreciate himfor trying to help me out. This sounds like it might be exactly what I need to break out of my funk. Who knows, maybe I’ll get lucky enough to find someone to be regular buddies with and be in a consistently better mood. I certainly don’t need a fucking relationship right now.
“Text me the info, please,” I say, smiling. “And I’ll see you at work tomorrow, Marco. Don’t worry about your tab. Tonight’s on me for putting up with my attitude.” I give them a wink and head outside to my waiting driver, heading home for a bath and contemplating what I might want out of an anonymous sex club encounter.
Join us on January 25, where we will be hosting an anonymous meetup. We know everyone will have varying preferences, so there will be a questionnaire to ensure everyone is comfortable. We can’t wait to see you soon.
That sounds like exactly what I need. After clicking through the sign-up, I submit my testing and then circle back to the preferences section. It’s comprehensive, and the club’s algorithm will match me with a partner based on complementary interests.
Thinking about what I really need, if I’m being honest with myself, is just a chance to let go a little bit. I need a good, rough fuck by someone I never have to see again. This is the perfect chance to try out new things in a safe, low-stakes environment, so I click a few of the things I’ve wanted to try but never have, and submit. Adding the date to my calendar, I find myself excited at the prospect of an anonymous night of fun. You deserve this, Margot. Finally home, I grab my vibe and head to the bath, thinking about a man with no face taking all my stress away.
Chapter thirty-six
“Sprinkles. Her safe word is sprinkles,and if she can’t speak, she’ll tap four times in a row,”I repeat to myself as I wait for my masked woman to show up. Poetic, really, that I’ll be breaking my two-year sex drought in a room that so closely resembles the one where it began. The leather furniture and dim lights are pretty standard for any club, but the faint red light casts an ominous vibe unique to this room.
I’m dressed in head-to-toe black with a matching balaclava to mask my identity. I’ve spent enough time in kink clubs to know that mixed with the lighting and scenery, I’m definitely a fantasy. Not adecoratedfantasy, though, since Ledger informed me it’s better not to surprise new partners with the piercings in case they aren’t interested. My dick honestly feels a little naked without them. I’m a little anxious to see if whoever arrives lives up tomyfantasy.
For two years, I’ve had to fight tooth and nail to stop thinking about her, but as I sit here waiting to see who steps through the door, I’m struggling to conjure my princess. Our meeting atthe club was a cruel reminder of just how much two years can transform someone.
Margot has always been a spoiled princess, but also so kind and light-hearted. She showed up at Rendezvous Too as a full-fledged diva. I’m pretty sure Aaron’s “family emergency” was just an excuse to get the fuck out of the room.
Any hope I might have had about us rekindling things flew out the window the moment she strutted into my club wearing that sinfully tight black dress. If her attitude wasn’t enough to confirm my decision to go through with this, her casual comments about her sex escapades across Europe sealed the deal on my commitment to tonight.
Anger rises as I try and fail to summon images of the princess I used to know. I’m on the verge of giving up when the door opens, and I have to do a double take at the woman standing in front of me.
Did I actually do magic? Am I hallucinating? Am I high right now?
My apparition closes the door behind her but doesn’t make a move to come any closer. She removes her silk robe, letting it drop to the floor and revealing her black leather lingerie set. I’ve seen my fair share of lingerie, including the set Margot made for me specifically, but nothing has made my mouth water quite like this strappy bodysuit.
I rake my eyes back up her long, elegant body to where a lacy black mask fails to cover a face so impossibly beautiful it nearly brings me to my knees. A reminder that it’s the woman underneath evoking such desire from me, and not her wardrobe.
After blinking and pinching myself, I freeze, realizing that itisMargot Sinclair standing before me.
How is this even possible? Did she know it was me she was going to meet with?Was she desperate for me but too angry to tell me in person, so she hacked into my computerand saw where I had signed up for this, then hacked into the club’s system to make sure we matched?Fuck, that’s the wrong Sinclair. I would expect that out of Ledger, maybe even Henry, but if Margot wants something, she wouldn’t mess with secret computer shit.
No, my perfect little princess wanted to get fucked by a man she would never have to see again.
