Page 5 of Room Six

I take comfort in that and return my thoughts to the evening.

My phone buzzes again, this time with a message from the owner.

Fantastic job with the dancers. Expect a raise, Miss Lafleur.

I cringe inward. Yikes. “Good thing you didn’t catch me in the corner with three members, then.”

I dodged a bullet there.

Thirty-seven floors above Seattle’s city skyline there only exists fantasies and sin. Six floors of The Centennial belong to Club Sin and we use every floor to sweep our members into a world like none other. And this year I delivered both for our fifth annual Fall masquerade ball in spades. And almost fell victim to its power. I don’t know who those members are but I am positive I’ve never seen them here before. I would recognize that braid and their eyes. Their aura of power.

They are a sin against my soul waiting to happen. Up here, among the stars, only God and His angels can judge us. For one night out of the year, I pray no otherworldly being glimpses the debauchery taking place so close to heaven or we are all bound for hell.

Should I turn back and return to them? My step falters. My phone rings but I silence it.

No. I can’t.

My name can never touch a Club Sin contract in this city. To enter any room, everyone must sign a contract stating they are willing participants. The club owners check over the contracts regularly. Mr. A. would personally see my keycards destroyed if he found out I broke club rules.

The faint click of my heels against black marble echo off the glass walls. Blue neon lights run along the edges of the ceiling and offer a sensual glow to the cool atmosphere.

Doors silently swoosh open and faintly snick closed as I make my way to the bank of elevators far away from temptation.

I’m going to remain a virgin for as long as I work here. But I don’t have a choice. Club Sin has kept me hidden and I would be a fool to jeopardize my safety for a single night of fun.

Warm light clashes with cool blue as an elevator opens.

I step in, set on putting as much distance between me and three bad ideas.

“Evening Ms. Lafleur.”

I offer a warm smile to a man in his thirties with kind blue eyes and neatly combed blonde hair. He’s in a black suit with gold tassels on his shoulders and a small name tag. “Mr. Carter. Good evening.”

The elevator attendant dips his head in greeting and automatically hits forty-two for me.

“Another late evening?”

“One more night, yes. But it is another successful year in the bag, Mr. Carter. Maybe I can get some sleep now.”

A moment later, I step off with another cordial, “Have a good evening, Ms. Lafleur.” Doors slide closed, and the attendant leaves me in blissful silence. What seems like an endless lake of liquid onyx extends in front of me. Up here, the blue neon light is changed out for a sensual red that plays off whatever mood you’re in. Mine is reluctant acceptance? Anger? Frustration? So damn horny I can’t see straight. Is that an emotion? It’s a state of being, for damn sure.

Fuck. I’m all the above and more.

I’m tired, too.

To my right I can enter a closed off part of the club where my office is tucked into the back corner. To my left is where the owners hold up when they are in town.

And straight ahead is where the magic happens. I smirk at my thoughts. Magic. I never thought of hooking up with people for sex as magic, but tonight that is what it feels like.

Club Sin inhabits the top six floors of one of the tallest buildings in the city, not including the rooftop. That is a whole other floor of indulgence I don’t need to think about right now. But anyone into exhibitionism forty-three stories above ground level should check out the rooftop. It is the place to be seen. One floor for accepting members, another for galas and parties. And four more filled with rooms designed to fulfill fantasies.

I’ve worked here for two years and I’ve never been inside a single one. And never will.

The corridor in front of me leads to ten rooms on this floor. Behind those black doors, any number of things are taking place right this second.

Freaking lucky souls.

I take a deep breath and turn toward my office. With no one watching me I can finally let my hands shake openly and not have to hide my jittery nerves. I drop my phone and clipboard on my desk. No man—much less three—has ever approached me before. Not and so blatantly want to have sex with me. It’s about as close to doing a line of coke as I’ll ever get.

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