"Oh, I'll earn it." The words come out low and rough, a promise wrapped in gravel. "I'll have you crying it out for me before the night is through."
I know I have no right to ask, but I’m feeling bold. "And what about you?" I tilt my head, studying what little of his face the mask reveals. "Do I get to know who's about to worship me?"
For just a moment, something flickers behind his eyes. A hesitation so brief I almost miss it. And then that devastating smile returns, easy and charming and just a little bit wicked.
"Dante," he says. "Call me Dante."
I don't know if it's his real name or a mask to match the one on his face. Fair is fair, I suppose. I kept my secret, and he's keeping his. In this place of fantasy and freedom, does it even matter?
Tonight, I don't care who he really is.
Tonight, I only care what he can make me feel.
He takes my hand and presses a kiss to the inside of my wrist, right over my racing pulse. "Come with me, jungle flower. Let me worship you the way you deserve."
I let him lead me toward the private rooms, my painted body humming with anticipation, my heart full of reckless hope.
I've studied the floor plan of this place late into the night in the weeks leading up to this moment. I like to know everything there is to know about a place before I step foot inside. The exits, the layout, where I can go and where I can't with my membership level. Old habits born from a lifetime of looking for escape routes.
But right now, with his warm hand wrapped around mine and his thumb tracing lazy circles against my pulse, I can't remember a single detail.
Only the whisper of warning trying to surface somewhere in the back of my mind. A sense that this is too easy, too perfect, too much like fate.
I silence it.
Tonight, I choose pleasure over fear.
I have no way of knowing that choice will change everything.
Three
Ilona
The private elevator rises in silence, carrying us away from the pulse of the party below.
My stranger, my Dante, keeps one hand pressed to the small of my back, his thumb tracing lazy circles against the painted vines that curve over my hip. The touch is possessive and tender all at once, a contradiction I'm beginning to associate with everything about this man.
The doors open onto a hallway I've never seen before. According to the membership materials Luna helped me study, this floor doesn't exist for someone at my access level. The ultra-elite rooms. The ones reserved for the men who own this city and the women fortunate enough to catch their attention.
"Oh, I um…I don’t think I can be up here." I hate being a stickler for rules, but I can’t have anything come up on my membership that might get me flagged. I just got the damn thing. "My membership only allows access to certain floors. This isn't one of them."
Dante's smile curves against my temple as he guides me forward. "You're allowed to go where I say you're allowed."
He pulls a black card from his jacket and passes it over a reader beside a heavy wooden door. The lock clicks, the door swings open, and my breath abandons me entirely.
Red lights line the edges of the room, throwing everything in a simmering crimson glow that makes my painted skin look like I'm on fire. A massive bed dominates the center, draped in black silk that gleams like liquid shadow. The entire front wall is glass, floor to ceiling, offering an unobstructed view of the party still pulsing below. From up here, the writhing bodies look like art. Like a living painting of pleasure and sin.
But the feature that steals my voice is off to the side, where the floor dips into a recessed pool fed by a cascading waterfall. Blue lights line the square cutout, making the falling water appear ethereal, otherworldly. There are no doors, no curtains, just the steady rush of water and a towel warmer within arm's reach.
It's breathtaking.
But the man beside me is more so.
I turn to face him, and the words tumble out before wisdom can stop them. "Tell me your name. Your real name."
His smile deepens, equal parts charm and mystery. Instead of answering, he cups my face in both hands and takes my mouth in a kiss that obliterates every coherent thought in my head.
This isn't the gentle brush of lips from downstairs. This is fire and claiming and a hunger that matches the desperate ache building between my thighs. His tongue sweeps against mine,tasting, demanding, and I give him everything he's asking for because I don't know how to do anything else.