Dinner with Angelo was...something.

Elodie couldn't put a name to exactly how she felt about the whole thing.

The night had started out with Hana getting her ready for the date; make-up applied with skilled hands that it looked like she didn't have any on at all, the purple sleeveless dress with breasts cups that held her own breasts almost lovingly, matching heels with inches that brought the top of her head to his nose. Hana had let her go after making her promise to keep her wits about her.

Then, Eyes had driven the both of them to a restaurant called Top Of The World where'd they'd proceeded to dine on the one hundred and sixtieth floor of the Stratosphere Tower while enjoying the view of the panoramic vistas. Their filet mignon and salted caramel crème brûlée was everything.

But, they'd barely spoken. In fact, Angelo had been focused on ensuring that they ate well and didn't speak beyond their orders for drink and food.

Elodie had been a bit disappointed at the end of it.

After the build-up of their play from earlier, him not bringing up their entanglement felt like a slap in the face.

Now, they were back in the car, and Angelo had busied himself with his phone, while she took in the night view of Vegas. It never seemed to stop making her breath catch, because such beauty should be legal every where in the world.

The day was over, and she'd gotten excited for nothing.

Her phone vibrated from its place in her purse, jerking her out of her thoughts. She'd opted to take her personal phone instead of the work one, because what good would that do her miles away from Boss safe reach?

She had a message from an unknown number and its content made her breath catch in her throat.

Unknown: Hello, Elodie Evans. I just want you to know that I know your secret.

Elodie cast a glance at Angelo, and finding that he hadn't sensed her panic, she typed a response with shhakyy fingers.

Me: I don't know what you're talking about.

Three dots appeared, disappeared, then reappeared. It took forever before the reply came.

Unknown: Of course, you do. I wonder what Casieri would react if he knows he has a rat in his company.

Me: Who are you and why are you doing this?

Unknown: That's not important. Shouldn't you be asking me what I want in return for you to keep my secret?

Common sense told her not to ask that question. It would be opening a can of worms. But what other option did she have?

Besides, ignoring them—whoever they were—didn't guarantee that they were going to stop. It may enrage them into taking action against her.

Angelo wasn't a merciful man. She'd witnessed that first hand.

Unknown: I'm waiting.

Great. Now they were getting impatient. Steeling herself and mentally preparing to throw herself into the pits to guard my life, Elodie typed:

Me: What is it that you want?

Unknown: Good girl. Meet me in the Bellagio Conservatory by six tomorrow. I'll let you know,, then.

Me: Okay.

Unknown: Come alone.

"We're here," Eyes voice suddenly broke through the quiet, and she jumped in my seat.

"Are you okay?" Angelo questioned softly.

Elodie turned to find him already watching her with raised brows, phone no longer in his hand. He must have been watching her since.

She managed a wobbly smile, stashing her phone back in her purse, and didn't miss the way his eyes lingered on the device before meeting hers again.

"I'm fine," she said in a steady voice. "It's one of my friends checking in."

"Hmm." Angelo's skeptic look said he didn't believe her, but he did drop it. "Come on."

Elodie reached for the door, and opened it on the second try, then climbed out on shaky knees.

Who else knew about this enough to threaten her? Was it Brooks? Hana?

She itched to place a call to Brooks, but she couldn't do so under the watchful eyes of the man she was supposed to be watching.

Angelo joined her. It was then she looked up at the massive three-story stone mansion they were standing in front of. Silver wrought iron lantern illuminated the stone steps leading to the entry way.

Shivering, both from the cryptic message she'd just received and the slight brush of Angelo's hand against hers, and grimaced when he shot her a look of concern.

"Are you cold?" He asked.

The air was warm and humid, nothing like the weather back home. Sweat beaded above her upper lip; even her palms were slightly wet. "I'm fine."

"So you keep saying."

"I'm really fine," She insisted, punctuating her words with a small smile. "Let's go in."

Angelo led them to the huge oak doors guarding the entrance. A small fire shaped doorbell glowed on the side panel. He pushed a finger down on it.

A few seconds later, the doors swung open. A man, very tall, muscular and portly, stared at them."Welcome, Sir."

They were led into a reception that boasted of nothing but beige decors and a large marble desk, a telephone and a large computer screen and keyboard.

"You just have to sign some papers and you'll gain entry to join the rest party." His words were directed to Angelo.

Sign something?

Elodie frowned. Then, again, the world was a lawsuit-happy place, it was understandable that paperworks were prepared in advance, even exercise classes required them. No one wanted to be in trouble. Also, there was no way Angelo would set her up for failure.

The man gave her three papers and a pen, and two to Angelo with a pen, too. "Just read before signing," that was directed at her, "sign at the bottom." His scowl at her deepened.

Elodie busied herself with reading. Rules of The Delights Club.

"Delights? That's so unusual..." She murmured to herself. She looked up at Angelo who was busy reading the papers he had been given.

She returned to reading, trying to focus her eyes. She'd never signed anything without reading it.

We open and close at....

There was something about dress codes. Another thing about equipment cleaning after use. Halfway down the page, her eyes became blurry, and she was openly shivering now.

Her thoughts ping-ponged around; her brain not settling on a particular thing. Two threats in one day could do that to a person. Not to mention just how in danger she was in.

I can't do this—I'm so cold.

This was just a club,, after all; it wasn't as though she was signing a medical record.

Skipping to the last page, she crawled her name on the indicated line, dropped the pen, then wrapped her arms around her body. Can't get warm.

Little pin-pricks trailed up her arms and into her spine. Soon, Angelo led her away from the scowly man once he had their papers and waved them to another door to his right.

The room they entered was bustling with people and it was a huge space.

Her widened as she looked around.

The club took up the entire first floor of the house. A circular bar of darkly polished wood ruled the center of room. Wrought iron scones cast flickering light over tables and chairs, coffee tables and couches. Potted plants created small secluded areas. The right corner of the room had a dance floor where music pulsed with throbbing beats. Further down, parts of the walls were brightly lit, but she couldn't see past the crowds to gather why that was.

Elodie's steps slowed as she realized that the club members were dressed in provocative clothing, from skin tight leathers leathers and latex to corsets to—I can't believe my eyes—a woman walking around with her full breasts on display.

What the—?

She glanced up at Angelo. "Um, excuse me a minute, but what is this place?"

He stopped. "In here, call me Sir."

Oh.

Oh.

"Right." She cleared her throat. Her shivers had subsided, her earlier fears pushed into the back of her mind. Shock would do that to you. "Exactly what kind of club is this?"

Over the music, the unmistakable wails of a woman in the throes of orgasm echoed in the space.

Heat flared in Elodie's face.

Amusement glinted in Angelo's eyes. "It's a private club, and tonight's bondage night, Il mio fuoco. I thought you'd have realized that reading the rules."

Then, a man in leather pants and a woman with a collar around her neck walked past. Elodie gawked at the chain attached to the ring at the base of the collar. The ends of the silver links were wrapped around the man's fist.

No words emerged from her opened lips. Elodie gaped, jaw working but couldn't seem to find the words.

One brow raised, Angelo waited patiently. She could feel his hand pressed low against her back, like a brand.

What had she agreed to?

"Bondage?" She managed to ask. "Like men having women as slaves?"

"Not always. Women dominate too sometimes." He nodded to the left where a man wearing tight boxer briefs that left little to imagination knelt, his head bowed. A woman in red bustier and latex leggings sat on a couch beside him, stroking his hair as though he was a pet.

"And domination ranges all the way from an entire lifestyle, twenty-four seven, to just a fun bout of sex. Many woman fantasize of having a man take charge of their pleasure in the bedroom." He stroked a finger down her cheek. "Just like you acted with me this morning. Here the fantasy is real."

Something inside her tightened at his words; a fascination of shock mixed with shock.

The memory of her splayed on his desk his desk, begging him shamelessly to take her in ways she hadn't even thought possible, made color stain her cheeks.

Take charge—how much he'd taken charge of her pleasure. Controlling it until she was putty in his hands.

Elodie couldn't stop herself from looking at him.

"Come," he said, smiling, his hand moving her forward. "Let's get something warm inside you—"

Inside her?

Images of him thrusting his cock inside her, hot and fast, filled her mind.

She jerked her mind away. She'd already been here all of five minutes and her mind was already in the gutter. A smart person—and she was that if nothing else—would ask that they leave now.

"And then you can decide if you want to go through with this or just leave."

Even as her stiffened, she realized just how easily he'd played her, and she glared at him.

His lips quirked.

As they approached the circular bar, the bartender abandoned the drink she was making and headed over.

She looked like a battered Rottweiler; scars peppered his rough looking face, all muscles and bones, even taller than...sir.

"Something hot, David, for Elodie. White Russian, if you will."

"A hot drink would be wonderful," she told David. She was still shivering a little, so a hot drink didn't sound so bad.

"I'll be right back," A...Sir told her. "Don't go anywhere."

"Okay."

The creamy drink burned all the way down her throat, starting a little fire in her. Lovely. When the bartender returned, Elodie had already finished and was eyeing the empty cup with a pang of sadness.

"Ready for more?"

"Am I allowed?"

"Of course." His laugh was good natured. "But, there's a two-glass limit. So, this one is less potent than the last one."

"But I've only had one so far."

He grinned at her. "Better to have alcohol after your play, not before. Besides, you might need more alcohol after a bit."

Now, why did that sound so ominous?

She sipped the drink, this time, instead of downing it at once, and this time, the warmth filling her was pleasant; relaxing her tense muscles.

Elodie set an elbow down on the bar, sighing as warmth sluicced through her veins. Turning on the stool, she surveyed the room at large.

A bondage club, E2 mused, look at you go.

This was an adventure she'd never for once imagined in her life. Nothing like this had ever been brought up in her presence. But, again, this was Vegas, a city where anything happened.

Shame had no place in Vegas.

Elodie grinned. While she was here, she might as well broaden her knowledge. More to tell Jean when she got back and Angelo was a distant memory.

Where to start?

The people dancing looked like they were having fun, although she had never been on a dance floor. Not sober, at least.

Being a former Escort meant she followed people to functions: social and business meetings, there was even a time she'd escorted a D-list actor to a red carpet thing. And the ones she'd followed to the club rarely wanted to dance. They wanted to drown their sorrows in alcohol and soft words to feel better.

The more she watched, the wider her eyes got. Some of the gyrating out there would have the participants arrested for public indecency in somewhere that wasn't here. One young man with a raging boner held a woman so close to him that the only thing separating penetration was the fabric between them.

Elodie took a sip, realizing that the dancers were too provocative for her.

She pulled her gaze away, and it feel on a couple kissing so thoroughly he looked as though he was drinking from her. The angle he held her head while he took and took...

Elodie pressed her thighs together.

Ohhhh, E2 cooed.

Just watching them got her overheated. Her nipples burned, poking against the material of her dress, like someone glued pencil eraser to her chest.

Turning back to the bar, Elodie crossed her arms over her chest, and willed them to go down.

The bartender looked down at her, amusement curling the edges his lips. His eyebrows lifted at her empty cup.

She shook her head. No more alcohol, and she was warm enough. Time to walk about and cool it off.

Sliding off her stool, she headed away from the dance floor the dance floor to rear of the room. People were crowded around the tables and couches; the murmurs of conversations getting louder the farther she got from the music.

The place looked like a normal bar if she ignored the attires...and the hands-on stuff.

She edged past a table where a woman knelt at the feet wearing a mask. Stroking her hair like a cat.

Halfway down the room, she approached one those brightly lit places she saw earlier. Now that she was a nearer, she saw what was happening. Her eyes widened in horror.

There was a naked woman strapped to a wooden X on the wall.

Not a statue, but a real-life, breathing human being.

A/N:

Sorry for the delay, I know I keep apologizing. But, researches took my time.

These aren't pre-written chapters, and I am developing the plot as I go (believe it or not). So, for the next two//three chapters I want to write, I had to make sufficient researches.

The BDSM community is broad and wide, and I don't think all that can be covered in just one book. So, I urge you to make your researches, too.

The next chapter is even about to get spicier, so brave yourselves.

Again, this book is rated R for matured audiences only.

Thoughts about the chapter?

Should Elodie trust the messanger?

Who do you think they are?

Don't forget to vote, comment and share.

Thank you for reading always❤️