Page 65 of Depraved
“I should’ve poisoned you,” I sneer.
He laughs and juts his chin, holding up a bite of eggs for me to eat. “I’ll send someone to get your shit from the office.”
I scowl as I wrap my lips around the fork, pulling the warm bite into my mouth and chewing as I grin. I swallow and shake my head. “No, send someone to deliver metomy shit in my office.”
He drops the fork and crosses his arms.As if that’s scary.
Rolling my eyes at him, I forge on. “No one is coming within twenty feet of me. And Dom will probably be there tonight. He always is…him and Drew.”
“I don’t want to know about Dom—I’m eating. Billy, you’re killing me.”
I wave him off and keep my eyes on his. “This would all be so much easier if you just agreed.”
He leans over the counter, grabbing my wrist and pulling my hand up to kiss my palm.
“All right, you win. But you’ll take Antonio and Matteo, and I’ll meet you there.”
I wink and give my shoulders a little shake before I pull his plate to me, eating the still-hot eggs.
My night has flown by, but it’s nice to be back in the saddle. Antonio and Matteo were only up my ass until we walked through the door, because I’m safe inside of here, and they know that. There’s such a heavy system of vetting that to get through these doors is next to impossible.
But they’re still watchful.
On the way here, I asked if they’d found anything new out about my family or tracked them down, and I was met with silence, answered only with headshakes. Hopefully, no news means good news, but the worry is there in the back of my mind.
I stamp my approval on the last application we’re taking for next year and stand from my desk, looking across at the wall that’s been fixed from the bullet. It’s crazy to think it’s been almost a week since everything first happened. It feels as if months have passed, but in reality, it’s only been five days.
I let out a sigh, relaxing my shoulders and heading to my office door to take a walk around the club. I try to every night; it’s important to put eyes on the night’s activities, gauge how the night is going.
I walk around the corner from the back hall and spy Antonio at the bar that lines the wall, with an ice water in front of him. He’s so serious. If ever a person needed a drink and to get laid, it’s him. I wave and he gives me a small head nod.
I continue on through the main room of Church, which is set up much like a hotel bar, with dark leather booths that line the red velvet-cushioned walls and tables flanked with high-back club chairs scattered under twinkling custom-made chandeliers. The vibe is 1940s debauchery. I think it nails it.
The main floor serves as a gathering area for mingling and flirting; public displays are limited in here because it’s meant as foreplay of sorts for all the other trouble you can find.
I walk through the room and hook to the right, which leads to a wide iron-railed staircase that leads to the communal room upstairs.
Clicks echo on the black concrete steps, accessorized with a rug colored with golds and reds that runs down the center. I quietly greet a couple coming down and pass them as the music begins to fade away from downstairs.
Unlike the main room, the energy up here is more fevered, more sexual, and doesn’t need any help in setting the mood. Especially now, with the show beginning in the center of the room.
There are plenty of spectator events that run on any given evening in this room. Some are requested by guests to perform and others are courtesy of Church, but tonight is special.
On certain nights, there’s a baptismal of sorts—a bathing that happens in an egg-shaped tub that was custom-made and fully useable in the center of the room.
A woman is bathed, prepared, and brought to pleasure for the room to watch. It’s incredibly sensual and erotic to watch someone cared for in such a way, and it makes me squirm every time I see it.
I stand toward the back as the crowd begins to gather and surround her. Some choose pews that are sectioned around the tub, and others opt to stand. The entire room is dimmed, creating shadows and dark spots for hands and moans to exist in privacy as a spotlight is shined from above down on the bathtub.
Desire is palpable. An elegant woman with honey-blonde hair sweeping her back is led through the room. She saunters behind her partner…her master, the crowd parting for her naked body as her sinewy form is led by the delicate gold chain that’s connected to her bright gold collar.
My fingers trace my collarbone as I stare at the way she holds her head high, as if she wants everyone to see what’s around her neck.
She does. She wants people to know she’s owned. A familiar feeling pricks at me…am I jealous?
The man, who is in suit slacks and a white dress shirt, stops at the bath, reaching down to feel the water before taking her hand as she lifts one leg then the other to step inside. He nods, and she submerges herself into the water as he holds her hair up, letting it cascade outside the tub when she settles.
He removes his shirt and kneels down next to her, taking a sponge and drowning it in the water before he begins to clean her, long brushes over her skin, disappearing into the water, accompanied by sweet moans and mewls that pull from her lips as her head falls back.
