Page 40 of His Wife

“Private,” he answers simply. “A private club.”

“And by private club, you mean…” I press for an answer, but he continues to stare at me without saying a word. “Yours? This club is—”

“It belongs to the Dark Sovereign, yes.”

A flutter starts up in my chest. “So, this is an…adult club?”

His face is a portrait of amusement, mischief and devilry hiding behind blue eyes touched by the white lights surrounding us. “Look at the building, and then you tell me if it’s an adult club or not.”

I turn my attention to the breathtaking property, a moonlit castle complete with its parapet. Golden spotlights splash against the stone walls, highlighting the blue-gray shuttered windows and tall tower. “It looks like a castle.”

“It is a castle. Well, it was once. But it’s no longer formally acknowledged as one.”

“I can’t imagine something this beautiful being an adult club.”

Alexius shifts next to me. “What kind of clubs do you think we run, Leandra? Sleazy strip joints and filthy whorehouses?”

“No, of course not.”

He narrows his eyes at me, and I can feel warmth spreading to my cheeks.

“I don’t know what to think.”

“That’s the problem with the world today. Everything gets stereotyped to the worst version of what something can be.” He straightens his jacket sleeves. “People think about an adult club and imagine a filthy dungeon with dirty whores and drugged-up slaves.”

“That’s not—”

“I know.” His gaze cuts to mine. “But you can’t deny that the thought has crossed your mind.”

I reach to weave fingers through my hair, forgetting that it’s swept together in an elegant up-do, a special request from my husband.

Alexius touches my cheeks, and my skin instantly ignites. “There are two reasons I wanted to bring you here tonight. One, so you can see for yourself that we’re not juvenile criminals selling cheap sex to back-alley sleazeballs who can’t afford a bowl to piss in.” The car stops, but Alexius makes no move to get out, his intense stare pinning me in my seat. “This isMito, Italian for Myth. It is one of our most elite private clubs and casinos. Like Myth back in Chicago, only the cream of the crop here in Italy knows about this club. The only way you can get into this club is with a six-figure monthly deposit, and that’s not even our VIP clientele.”

“How do you become a VIP?”

Alexius studies me, biting his bottom lip as if he’s trying to decide if my question is something he’s willing to answer. “Come on.” He taps on his window, and Maximo opens his door. “Let me show you.”

I get out of the car. The sweet scent of European olive trees fill the night air, and I crane my neck as I look up at the tower, counting five rows of windows. Five floors. The castle blends ancient and modern architecture, its centuries-old stone walls still perfectly maintained. The building is a landscape painting with the dark purple and black hues of night and walls in muted creams. It’s stunning.

After straightening my emerald-green dress, the diamond studs along the deep V neckline sparkling under the lights, I catch Alexius staring at the top of my thigh showcased by the slit that runs up from the hem on the skirt cut just below my knee.

“Did you do as I said?” His suggestive tone has me smiling.

“I did.”

“Good. Now, let’s see how many men I can kill in one night.”

I lift a brow. “It was your request.”

“For my pleasure,” he replied. “And my pleasure only.”

I clench my thighs. Wearing a dress with a slit that runs this high makes it impossible to forget that I’m not wearing any panties.

“Here.” He’s holding a black lace masquerade mask, and I frown as I take it from him.

“What is this for?”

“A precaution.”

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