Page 26 of The Secrets He Keeps

Chapter Eight

Callista rarely mademistakes when it came to Pendragon’s. She took risks on occasion and experimented every once in a while, but she never considered any of her decisions—even those that did not turn out as well as expected—mistakes.

But the moment she dropped the invitation in the post, she suspected she’d made the biggest mistake of her life.

Yet she refused to take the small missive back.

Callista was nothing if not honest with herself.

She was fully aware that she had spent the last couple decades obsessively focused on creating a business and a life that could not be compromised by any man.

She knew she’d sacrificed a great many personal relationships to achieve her goal, though she’d managed to somehow tenuously hold on to the only one that really mattered. Even that, she acknowledged, was likely due more to Mason’s efforts than her own.

She was driven, ambitious, focused, and maybe a little preoccupied with attaining personal power. But she also knew those things were motivated by a past when she’d had nothing, and the sense of powerlessness she’d experienced had nearly ruined her.

She also had to admit to herself that she had enjoyed Christmas this year more than any year prior and it had been all because of the company.

So, if she could recognize and accept her faults and occasionally flawed motivations, she had to also admit when something she’d assumed to be fact turned out to be incorrect.

Erik Maxwell and his gentleman’s club, or whatever it was, did not pose any threat to Pendragon’s Pleasure House. They might cater to a similar social demographic, but any gentleman interested in the pleasures offered by her establishment would not be the same type of man who sought entrance to Maxwell’s. Her time with the man had convinced her that if nothing else, he believed whole-heartedly in what he was doing. And because of that, there was no need to drive him out of town.

No need to deny her intense attraction to the man and resist his seduction any longer.

If she weren’t so accustomed to redirecting men’s desires and resisting their attempts at influencing her, she would have tossed herself into Maxwell’s bed the night they’d shared the brandy in front of his fire.

But the truth was, in the spirit of being completely honest with herself, Callista also had to admit that her feelings for the man were far more complicated than simple lust.

Somehow, he’d managed to slip beneath her barriers. With his smooth words and intense gaze, he’d accessed parts of her she’d long ago learned to keep hidden. She could deny it all she wanted to his face, but he’d been absolutely correct about the fact that there was a part of her she hadn’t allowed past Pendragon’s façade in a long time. He’d seen it and he’d delicately trailed his fingertips along her sensitive and vulnerable underbelly.

With his patient questions and quiet consideration and the way he seemed to genuinely want to know the contents of her mind as much as he wanted to release the contents of her corset, he’d ignited a few secret wishes she’d tucked so far into the shadows of her being, she’d forgotten they existed.

And now that they’d been relit, she couldn’t ignore them.

In fact, she suspected she might want to explore them. Even if it were for only one night. She simply couldn’t allow any more than that. But a lot could happen in one night.

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AFTER WEEKS OF PREPARATION, Pendragon’s annual end-of-the-year celebration event had finally arrived.

Callista always took exceptional and deliberate care with her appearance, but on this night it felt different. Because she wasn’t dressing to stun and awe the dozens of high-spenders who’d be coming to Pendragon’s expecting a night of exceptional pleasures and over-the-top depravities. She was dressing for one man only.

Keeping in line with her signature red and black, the dress she wore tonight was one she’d designed herself. The base of the gown was a blood-red silk, but instead of the empire waist currently in fashion, the bodice was designed into a full corset that shaped her figure from breasts to hips. Delicate swaths of silk draped over her shoulders, leaving her arms bare and her dragon on full display. There would be no gloves tonight.

The skirts of the gown had been slit in several places from the hem, all the way up to the embroidered base of her corset, revealing an underskirt of black lace. As she walked and moved, the transparent lace would be revealed, showing suggestive glimpses of her bare legs beneath.

But only glimpses.

Her slippers were black beaded satin and a black onyx choker encircled her throat. In her elaborately styled hair were several red roses so dark they appeared almost black in certain light.

She looked magnificent.

Strong. Seductive. Utterly in command and utterly untouchable by the common man.

It was the persona she’d spent years creating, and tonight, she was at the height of her power.

Pendragon’s Pleasure House was located near St. James Square and Mayfair, where so many of the high-society gentlemen she catered to lived in domestic dissatisfaction. Decorated entirely in a Grecian theme, the larger rooms held mural-sized paintings depicting blatant sexual scenes, and marble pillars framed every doorway. The main floor contained an entry hall where her doormen carefully managed the flow of people entering and exiting the building. Even on regular nights, one must either be on the list of established members, be sponsored by an approved member in high esteem, or they must have a direct invitation from Pendragon herself. Once allowed in, guests could wander through various public rooms, each one leading deeper into the heart of the house where hedonistic sin and wickedness reigned.

Music played by five musicians flowed from the grand salon, which also contained a stage for her dancers surrounded by chairs, sofas, couches, and divans for comfortable viewing of the entertainment and other activities. A second salon had been designed more for conversation, where gentlemen could debate over port and tobacco while naked lovelies served them from golden platters. Beyond that was a room lit with soft candlelight, most often occupied by those who wished to engage in exhibitionism or voyeurism. And then, a room left in perpetual shadowed darkness to allow guests to release their inhibitions to the full extent. Alcoholic refreshment was provided in each room while light and savory fare was offered in the main drawing room to keep guests from leaving to pursue dinner elsewhere.

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