My hand, already on the gearshift, ready to throw my Bronco into reverse and retreat, is overridden by my gut. I punch the accelerator and my tires grab the pavement, rocketing me forward before the wrought-iron barrier can keep me from my destination.
Just one more time.
I’ll steal one more night and walk away. I can do that. Rafe will never know. No one will but the stranger and me.
My resolve strengthened, I inhale several long, deep breaths to steady myself as I slow the Bronco behind another car. A uniformed valet accepts the keys from a masked man climbing out of a white Mercedes, and a fraction of my nervous energy calms at the sight of another patron. At least for a moment, then another thought breaks through.
What if I see someone I recognize or who recognizes me?I need a mask, and it’s not something I carry around in my Bronco.Why didn’t I think ahead?
When the Mercedes pulls away, another masked man exits the front door and approaches my car. He’s wearing a similar uniform to the valets and the doormen I saw last time, but his mask is a different color. He rounds the hood, and my nerves spike when he opens my door.
“Madam, I was informed that you might be in need of an accessory.”
My mind, already halfway in the gutter by being in the proximity of the club, goes straight to the multitude of possible accessories to which he could be referring.
“Excuse me?” I ask, pulling away from the open door.
He regards me curiously as he pulls something silver from his inner breast pocket and holds it out. “Your mask, madam.”
“Oh. Yes. Thank you.”What did you think he was going to offer you, Temperance? Nipple clamps?
“If you’ll step out and present your card, I’ll help you tie the mask and show you inside.”
My card?
“Umm, one second.” I turn away from the window and pull the card out of my bra—because I’m classy like that—and offer it to him.
“Thank you, ma’am.”
I slide out of my Bronco and lean over to snag my purse and hook it over my shoulder. Taking the mask from him, I turn and give him my back. He deftly ties it on, and I adjust the positioning before facing him again.
“Please follow me, madam.”
His avoidance of using my name sends a clear signal that anonymity is prized here, which is perfectly okay with me. Preferable, actually.
With more confidence than I feel, I stride after the man, climbing the front steps. When the door opens, I’m once again transported to a different world.
Once inside, the thumping bass beat from the upper floor creates a slow, throbbing pulse that carries through the entire building, and I can’t help but wonder if I’m going to see the inside of the room where it comes from tonight.
“I’ll take care of her from here,” says a familiar voice, a voice I don’t want to hear here.
My gaze cuts to the woman standing just inside the foyer—my boss’s best friend, Magnolia Maison.
Lord above, what are the odds?I don’t answer my own question because, really, why shouldn’t I have expected to see the notorious madam in a sex club? I should almost have expected it, but I didn’t. And now ... she could tell my boss.Great.
I drop my head and pretend to cough so I can cover the bottom half of my face in a last-ditch effort to conceal my identity and avoid what will certainly be an awkward conversation with Keira.
“Ain’t gonna work,chérie. We’ve got some talkin’ to do.” Magnolia crooks her finger. “Come on.”
“But—” I protest, but she turns around and strolls out of the entryway.
Over her shoulder, she adds, “Don’t worry. You’re not gonna be late. He ain’t here yet.”
I swallow as my stomach flops.How much does she know?If I had to make a wager, I’d assumeeverything. Because that’s how Magnolia operates.
She leads me down a hallway on the first floor into a richly appointed room that looks like it’s half office and half boudoir. Gold-and-red wallpaper gives it a bold air, which suits Magnolia’s personality, or at least what I know of it.
“Close the door behind you.”