Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 101561 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 508(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101561 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 508(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
Because of her.
Because of Faye fucking Devere.
She brought things to life.
And God, how it fucking pained me to admit it, even to myself, but she brought me to life, too.
The thought of going out there and admitting how well she’d done, how she’d achieved in a few weeks what I’d failed to achieve in three years, not the general behind the scenes crap that keeps this place ticking over, but the actual work of bringing the club to its potential, creating a thrill, a buzz, an atmosphere that people would be talking about right through to its next fucking birthday. She’d done that.
And she’d done it in spite of all my sarcastic little digs and comments, in spite of all the blocks I’d put on her, and what she was allowed to do.
I could only imagine what she’d have achieved if I’d been on her side.
But she’d bailed on me once, and she’d do it again, and all of it meant nothing if it wasn’t constant. An enthusiasm that burns hot but quick isn’t worth shit, not in a concern like this. You need regularity, community, a build-up of company values over time. Faye couldn’t do that, she’d waltz away and leave the club in the lurch and it would be up to me to pick up the pieces again.
Only I didn’t want to pick up the pieces again. I wanted her.
I didn’t want this place without her, not now she’d come home. Not now I’d seen how good we could be.
I downed my whisky and poured another, then switched the monitor from one camera view to another. I looked for Faye, and even in a sea of masks she was easy to spot. She was the only one on the floor not wearing one, and she looked divine, dancing and twirling free. I couldn’t make out her face but I knew she was smiling, and I knew everyone else would be smiling around her.
Fuck this shit. Just fuck it.
Another triple went down like wildfire, but I knocked it back anyway and grabbed my jacket.
It was time for Daddy Explicit to make an appearance. I only hoped I hadn’t left it too late.
***
Chapter Twenty
Faye
The dancefloor was a sea of people, and I was right amongst it. My heart was pounding, adrenaline pumping after a couple of swiftly downed Screaming Orgasms, and I was high, flying, twirling around the place with Raven and Cara at my side. The crowd moved as the music changed, and it swept me up. Raven’s black feather mask plume disappeared in the throng and I was amongst the unknown, the faceless, a world of hollow-eyed masks and laughter, of bodies pressed to mine. Hot bodies, horny bodies, and suddenly I was no longer at Explicit on my own turf, I was in the heart of the action in Vincent Blackthorne’s mountain sex den, and the faces weren’t just faceless, they were terrifying.
“They’re all for you, pretty bird, all of them. You’re going to make me so proud, sweet girl, so very proud.”
He kisses my lips and holds me close, but I’m shaking in his arms. I’m shaking so hard my legs threaten to give up on me. “My legs,” I say. “They’re like jelly. I don’t know if I can walk.”
“You won’t need to walk, beautiful magpie,” he laughs. “Don’t worry, soon you will be feeling just fine, my sweet one.”
I want to believe him, but the noise of the party is too loud, too raucous. “You’ll be there?” I ask. “You’ll watch over me?”
“I’ll be watching with all the love and pride a soul can offer.” He kisses my hand. “You make my heart soar, my northern star. You make me more than just a man. You make me a master.”
I smile as brightly as I can manage.
“Here,” he says, passing me a glass. “Drink this, it will help you relax.”
The taste of the alcohol is so strong it burns my throat, but I drink it anyway. There’s something strange about it, something bitter, but I don’t question him. I never question him.
He pulls the ribbon on my robe, and it falls loose. He brushes it from my shoulders until it pools at my feet, and his hands are on my skin, palms rough and needy.
“Look at you, beautiful bird. You truly are a gift. Our guests will be honoured for a taste of something as delicious as you.”
The collar he places around my neck is heavy and thick. He buckles it tight, and clips on the chain before he cuffs my wrists and ankles, the leather is rough and bites me, and the chains jangle as he threads them through my bonds. I jangle as I walk, the chains dragging along the ground as I follow him through the curtains. The room is busy, so busy, but the noise stops. The crowd is silent as he leads me amongst them.