Page 2 of Scarlet Mark
Diavolo Rojo.
My lips curled, amused by her employment choice. She’d been right under my nose this entire time. Clever female.
A string of these exclusive clubs existed across the world, designed for men and women with wealth and status who desired discretion in their sexual exploits. TheDiavolo Rojocircuit only hired females with specific backgrounds. Most were young, early twenties, still in school, and looking to socialize with the elite of the world. It served as a fucked-up mentorship of sorts, but it worked.
The establishment was essentially a swinger’s paradise, a way to mingle and indulge in certain proclivities in a safe space with desirable partners. Although, not all of the staff played with the clients. Some tended the bar area only, enjoying the admiration of society’s rich and famous while rubbing elbows with future business partners.
The women who preferred only social activities wore a special collar.
Amara Rose, my target, wasn’t wearing such a collar.
Which meant I could proposition her. In any way I desired.
Such a devious woman. She’d used the funds she’d stolen from her jilted fiancé to finance this little venture—to provide herself with a new background. To qualify for employment.
That was how I finally found her.
By following the money.
“Your drink, Mr. Bedivere,” a sultry voice murmured, handing me the top-shelf scotch I’d ordered. The brunette’s tits practically poured out of her translucent top, leaving everything on display for my perusal.
Yet it was the auburn-haired woman tending to tables across the room who held my interest.
I’d been watching her all night, captivated by her confidence and poise. The female had conned a US senator, one many dubbed to be the future president of the United States. And she clearly did not give a flying fuck.
So damn intriguing.
And colorful. Those tattoos dancing up her left arm were the kinds of patterns meant to entice a man’s tongue.
Maybe later.
I accepted my glass with a smile for the flirty waitress, saying nothing in reply. Her round eyes crinkled at the sides, her anticipation tangible as she slowly turned to present me with her delectable backside.
Cute, but not really my type.
My interests ran darker, more sinister in nature. An urge I rarely satisfied because so few met my requirements.
Although, my gorgeous mark might fit the bill.
It really was a shame that I had to kidnap her or kill her.
I sipped my scotch, enjoying the view of Amara’s shapely ass as she bent to hand someone a drink in one of the corner booths.
The main area of the club resembled a standard bar, with a few opulent enhancements—crystal glassware, imported leather seating, and high-tech tabletops. The lighting offered a sexy vibe as well, casting the room in purples and shadows that set the mood.
Yet, it was the upstairs and downstairs levels that were special, each equipped with a variety of rooms and spaces set up to handle an array of kink and deviant preferences.
Amara seemed to be avoiding those, electing to serve in the safe zone, where couples chose to warm up rather than play.
I traced the device in the center of my table with my thumb, considering my mark. Several patrons had submitted bids for Amara’s services throughout the evening, something I knew because each one caused the bracelet around her wrist to light up. Her staying on this floor meant she’d turned down every single one. That was part of the club’s rules—the female assets controlled their fates. Hence, my brunette waitress’s eagerness. She wanted me to make her an offer.
Alas, no.
My proposal would be to the alluring redhead wearing the sexy-as-fuck lace stockings and silky black teddy.
And it would be one she couldn’t refuse.
I pulled out my phone to review all the other bids Amara had received tonight, thankful for my contact who had provided me with backdoor access to the club’s systems. It served as potential blackmail against enemies, and in this case, access into Amara’s thought process.
