Sophia keeps talking, her voice dropping lower as she shows me the next room. “See the showers? There are five differenttemperature settings, and the towels are heated. If you want, they’ll even shampoo your hair for you.”
I give her a look. “Wow. That’s called service.”
She laughs, and the sound is pure sunshine. “I know, because this place runs on pampering. No one is allowed to feel ordinary here. Ever.”
“Isn’t that exhausting?”
Sophia shrugs. “At first, yeah. But eventually, it just feels heavenly to be waited on hand and foot. The scalp massage is divine.”
She leads me through a corridor lined with potted orchids and thick white carpet, past a small salon where two women—both younger than me, both as beautiful as young goddesses—are getting matching manicures and sipping champagne. One of them looks up, eyes tracking Sophia, and gives a tiny, polite wave.
“Most of the girls are contractors,” Sophia explains, not breaking stride. “We come in, do our thing, and go home. There’s no drama. Everyone gets paid, everyone knows the rules.”
“What are the rules?” I ask.
Sophia pauses. For a second, her smile firmly in place. “Mostly? Don’t embarrass the club. Don’t make a scene. Always respect the privacy of the members. If you break the rules, you’re out, no questions.”
We walk in silence for a minute, the plush carpet swallowing our steps. At the end of the hallway, double doors open into the gym: an expanse of pale wood floors, floor-to-ceiling windows, and equipment so new it looks like a prop from a sci-fi movie. Thereare two men working out, both insanely handsome, and looking like they were built from titanium and testosterone. Sweat drips from their foreheads, muscles bulging.
“Wow, these guys are ripped. Is everyone here beautiful and athletic?”
Sophia isn’t fazed at the question.
“Pretty much,” Sophia says. “Sanctum’s about exclusivity, so they vet everyone carefully. But to be clear, only the men pay to join—women can only be here if they’re with a member, or if they’re on staff.” She gives me a sly look. “It’s very retro, in a way. Except nobody’s actually mad.”
“Isn’t that…” I trail off, searching for a polite word. “Isn’t that a little much?”
Sophia’s laugh is softer this time, almost like she’s genuinely amused. “You’d think, but the men who can afford this place? They like rules. They want to know that they’re getting privacy and discretion, and of course, that they can do whatever they want. The girls don’t mind, because the money is insane. Like wowza, insane.”
I glance back at the gym. One of the men, a square-jawed blond, catches my eye and nods. It’s not sleazy, just confident. He goes back to his deadlifts like nothing happened.
I realize then: everyone man here is an alpha male. You have to be, to belong.
Sophia leads me to the edge of the gym, where there’s a juice bar manned by a woman who looks like she could be a supermodel or a pro tennis player, depending on which way she tilts herhead. She wears a sleeveless top with the Sanctum logo in gold thread. Her smile for Sophia is real.
“Sophia, welcome back.”
“Hi!” Sophia says. “This is Daisy—she’s a friend of Hunter’s.”
The woman nods, gaze traveling over me in a single smooth scan. “Do you want a smoothie, Daisy? They’re complimentary.”
I feel like I should say yes, so I do. “Sure, thank you.”
She goes to work, hands flying over the blender and fruit, and I lean close to Sophia.
“Is everyone here this perfect? It’s honestly getting scary.”
Sophia doesn’t hesitate. “Yeah, it’s kind of a theme. Don’t stress about it. You actually fit in really well, and again, everything’s fine. Hunter will take care of everything.”
I swallow and feel better because it’s true. The mere thought of Hunter McCarren warms me to my core and makes me feel protected.
I sip the smoothie. It tastes like pineapple and papaya, with a sweetness that almost makes my teeth ache. Sophia guides me to a pair of armchairs off to the side, and we sit, legs crossed, taking in the scene.
“So how do you know Mr. McCarren?” Sophia asks, voice casual but a little sharp at the edges.
I consider, then tell the truth. “I don’t really. I mean, I know him, but I don’t know how. He just found me, I guess.”
Sophia’s eyebrow arches. “That’s not the story I heard, but okay.”