I approached him slowly, but I stayed out of arms reach. “Can you show me where Toby died?”

  His eyes went wide. “You don't want to see that.”

  “I do, actually. When I said goodbye to him, I didn't really have a good notion of where he'd been, what had happened. All I knew was that he wasn't there anymore, and then we were putting a casket in the ground. I didn't connect it with something that was real. Part of my brain disconnected, and for a long time I could pretend that it wasn't real, that he was still just away at school or something. I think I need to see it. Will you show me?”

  He swallowed hard, but he put down the scotch and pushed to his feet. When he nodded, I could see that there were tears burning his eyes. “I don't think this is a good idea, Ems.”

  “You once told me you would give me anything I needed. Will you?”

  Swallowing hard, he nodded and then took my hand. The stone was cold against my bare feet, but Bridge’s body was warm. As he wrapped his much larger hand around mine, I leaned into him, taking the comfort he offered. We turned right, heading further down the hall and passing two more doors until we reached a third. There was a keypad lock on the outside, and he keyed in the eleven-digit code.

  The door gave way with a suction sound. Dim light illuminated the room. Like the other room we’d just left, there was seating around the sides but higher up. And instead of the elevated platform in the center, this one was depressed, like a sunken living room in a midcentury modern home. There were ten coffins lined up around it. The room looked like it had been used for centuries.

  I swallowed hard. “Which one?”

  “Emma, you don't need to know that.”

  I tugged my hand free. “Tell me which one. Show me.” This was a recipe for disaster. Did I really need to know? Did I really need to sit in this place and see where my brother died? I wished I could explain it, the compulsion. Almost as if none of it had been real until this very moment. All the work that I had done to avenge my brother didn't truly coalesce until right then.

  Bridge took my hand and held it tight. Almost too tight. Like the juncture where fingers connected was holding our very souls together. Step by step he walked me toward one of the coffins to the right. “Ben was right next to him. He was the first one to see. I'm so sorry Emma.”

  I wasn't sure what to feel. The rage was ever present. The overwhelming urge to throw something, to trash this place, to take it all to the ground was permanently simmering under my skin at all times. I expected an overwhelming wash of grief, but that's not what this was. It was like sudden clarity. Like something had washed away the stain of what had happened in this room with my conviction that Middleton and any of the men who had helped him hide his crimes would pay for this. And I would be responsible for that justice. I knew it as I stood here holding my husband's hand and saying goodbye to my brother properly. I was going to make him pay.

  “Do you know, Toby didn't even care about the advantages the Elite could give him or how he could provide for mum and me. He mostly just wanted to be with his mates. He thought it was some cool fraternity that you guys were in, and that's what was so exciting for him.”

  Bridge nodded. “He was a good lad. Smart, so freaking smart. Really funny. Dry wit, you know?”

  “Oh, I know. It runs in the family.”

  Bridge rolled his eyes. “I'm sorry I didn't bring you down to say goodbye earlier. I don't know. I guess I thought it would be too hard. I didn't want to traumatize you all over again.”

  I met his gaze as I thought and ruminated over the soup of emotions churning inside me. “I don't think I was ready until today, and we haven't really been a proper team until this week. I think we both needed to come down here, together.”

  “I'm sorry I've been so out of it today. I feel like I should have known what my father was capable of. But still, for some reason, the levels of his depravity hadn't sunk in until today. And then I just felt lost, adrift.”

  I squeezed his hand. “The difference is, you're no longer a scared little boy. You are one of the most successful men in London. You have a family who really cares about you. Not just your mum and Darcy and me, but the lads, all of the London Lords team. We are the family we made. And when this is over and we look back on this, you're not even going to think twice about the old man.”

  He wrapped his arms around me. “Someone needs to tell me what I did to deserve you. Come on, let's get out of here so I can take you to bed.”

  ”Not so fast. I want to know everything about the process. So you start here in the coffins…”

  His chuckle was low. “Yes, some bullshit ritual about being reborn. Resurrection. They love that shit. We all do the awakening ceremony, and then we’re taken into the next room where we take our oaths. Finally, we all get our ring fingers tattooed, and then our rings go on top of them.”

  “That must have been terrifying.”

  He shivered. “For me and Ben and East and Drew, these rooms weren't about resurrection. It was a disaster and our greatest loss. The subsequent initiations we've done since then have been really difficult for all of us. Toby should have been with us. He would've gotten a kick out of it.”

  I lifted my chin to meet his gaze. “What do you say we make a new memory?”

  “Just what do you have in mind?”

  I took his hand and pulled him out of the room. I had needed to see it, but now that I had, I wanted out. And I wanted to wipe those memories away with some new ones.

  When I led him into the other room, I glanced up and around. “Is this where you have your wild sex orgies?”

  Bridge coughed a laugh. “Back then? How I wished. Sex came later. But mostly it was lots of droning on about honor and tradition and rules. If I told you the number of times I had been bored to death in this room, you would take pity on me.”

  I turned with a smirk. “Oh, it’s not pity I intend to put on you.”

  Thirty

  Emma

  I had no idea what I was doing. But as I looked around the room, a room that had held so much power in name if not in function for me, I wanted to take some of that power. I wanted to wash it away and make something new, something different. Something I owned.

  I turned in Bridge's embrace and looped my arms around his neck. "So, if you hadn't been forced to discuss honor and tradition and all those things, what would you rather have been doing? What would eighteen-year-old Bridge have done to me if I was there?"

  He frowned at that. "Well, then you were underage."

  I laughed and shook my head. "Oh boy. Okay, let's try this again. If you can go back in time and we were the same age, what would you have thought about doing to me?"

  He grinned then. "Well, if girls were allowed to be inducted into the Elite, it probably would've been an entirely different landscape. I have a feeling those initiations would've been a whole lot dirtier."

  I laughed at that. "You're probably right."

  "But how about I show you what a present day induction would look like if you were going to be a member of my Elite?"

  I laughed at that. "Ah, is that we're calling you now? The Elite?"

  He glanced between us at his now very visible erection. "I like that. He's elite."

  "You know, I don't know how elite he is. He was running around London jumping into everybody who let him just a few months ago."

  Bridge raised a brow. "Jokes? You tease me now?"

  "Well, I tease you always. That's kind of my MO. It's what I do. It's my thing."

  He laughed. "What did I do to deserve you?"

  "Well, hopefully you're going to show me, and I'll tell you if your performance is deserving of me or not."

  He growled low. "You are a naughty thing."

  "Yes. I am so glad to hear you say that out loud. So initiate me, Mr. Edgerton."

  He leaned in and caught my lower lip between his teeth. He sucked on it gently before laving the tiny wound with his tongue. And then released me with a soft pop. "You are so desperate to know, aren't you?"

  I nodded. "Oh, yeah. For example…" I released him and sauntered over to the raised platform. I looked around and pressed a button. Something rose out of the center of the platform that looked like a lectern of some sort. "What goes here?"

  "The bible."

  I frowned. "Ugh, how boring."

  He laughed. "No, no, the Elite bible. Less boring but a lot more rules."

  I laughed. "More rules than the actual Bible?"

  "You would be surprised. And it gets added to every time a new Director Prime sets bylaws."

  "Oh, fascinating." I twirled around. "You know, you guys could use some decor." And then I stepped up onto the platform. "So what do you say, Mr. Edgerton, am I going to be a naughty pledge?"

  He smirked at that. "Emma, you really want me to initiate you down here?"

  I nodded. I wanted to cut the tension between us, erase the reason he'd come down here in the first place. To heal the memory of knowing what had happened in the other room and what a dangerous pursuit we were part of. I wanted to play. To release some of that energy before it swallowed us whole. Before the darkness became part of our every waking moment. I wanted to banish it with some sunshine and fun and levity.

  He walked around the podium, making the full circle. It was only about three feet in circumference. The new pledges were supposed to kneel around it in a circle.

  "Are you going to kneel before me, Bridge?"

  "More like you'll kneel before me."

  "I mean, you know I'm down. But usually what happens is all that begging and hair pulling and, 'Emma, oh my God, Emma. Fuck. Bloody hell. Emma, Emma, Emma, Emma.' And then, 'Oh God, Emma.'" I waggled my brows.

  His jaw ticked. And I knew before he even lunged at me that I was in for it. A spanking was—

  He grabbed me around the waist and picked me up and twirled me.

  I giggled. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry. If you want me on my knees, all you have to do is ask nicely."

  As he picked me up, he swatted one of his big hands on my ass, and I squawked. "Bridge Edgerton. Do you know what? Now you're getting spanked."

  "Oh, I might like you spanking me, Emma."

  I lifted a brow. "Really?"

  He shrugged. "If you like it, I would like it."

  "But that's not what we're doing right now?" I pouted. "Fine. Where do you want to induct me or whatever?"

  His gaze searched mine. "You're trying to lighten this up aren't you?"

  I bit my lip and nodded. "Yes. I am."

  He nodded and leaned forward, placing a soft kiss on my lips. It was a whisper of an angel's kiss that made my body hum. What made me hum more was when he pulled back and then he turned me around.

  "Hold onto the podium." With the press of another button, the podium went flat, wider, and longer, and Bridge said, "All right, grip the edge."

  I reached for it, realizing it put me bent over for his viewing pleasure with my arse in the air.

  "I do like this view."

  "What is this for anyway?"

  "You know we all get tattoos stamped on our lower backs when we're initiated."

  I lifted my head. "No way."

  He laughed. "No, no way. We get tattoos under our rings, so even if someone should attempt to steal one from us, we are always branded as Elite men."

  I frowned at that. "Wait, rings?"

  He waved his right hand. "My ring."

  I frowned. Sure enough, he wore a signet ring on his thumb. "Why have I never noticed that?"

  "It's no big deal. I just always wear it."

  "Can I see?"

  He nodded and rotated the ring until it slid off. Underneath was a tattoo wound all the way around his thumb.

  "Toby didn't have one of these."

  He nodded. "Yeah. Toby died before he was inducted. So no tattoo, no ring. But his ring was given to your father. It stays in the family."

  "Of course it does. Why would it come to me or my mother? It just went to the man who barely saw him."

  "I'm sorry, Ems."

  I shook my head. Shaking it off. That's not what I wanted to dwell on. "Okay, so you get the tattoo. Here?"

  He nodded then pressed another couple of buttons on the side of the podium. Something else rose from the platform. It looked like a small, miniature table, really about the size of a bowl in circumference. But inside were what looked to be a tattoo gun, ink, and oil. "Oh, what is that?"

  "The oil is for anyone whose tattoos are fading. Usually, the older members who are inducted into one of the higher levels or have demonstrated great service to the Elite will get a second tattoo or get more ink added to their original tattoo because they're usually faded. The oil is to protect that over the years. And petroleum jelly, of course, for the new tattoo applications."

  "This is fascinating. Who does the tattoos?"

  "It was Drew's father for a while. Since then it's been different people. And now when we have an initiation, Drew does it."

  "Oh, wow. That sounds like it's a big deal."

  He shrugged. "It can be. If you take it seriously. But for us at this point, I don't know what we think."

  "Ah, the hive mind."

  As he slid me down his body. I leaned up and kissed his lips. "So, where are you going to tattoo me?"

  "Where would you like your mark?"

  I grinned. "My skin is perfection already. I don't need artistic adornment."

  He chuckled. "You're afraid of the tattoo?"

  "Needles hurt. I have a thing about needles."

  He laughed. "Aw, I can give you a little heart. Maybe a little tramp stamp on your lower back?"

  "No. It'd be much funnier if you had one. Oh, oh, what about the ones that used to be so popular? Remember the sundial around the belly button? I wonder how those aged."

  Bridge snarfed.

  I traced a hand over the podium again and leaned over. "All right, do your worst, Mr. Edgerton."

  He ran a hand down my back. "Ems, you're teasing a starving man."

  "You are hardly starving. Didn't we shag this morning?"

  "It's been all day. And it's been a hell of a day. Let's go upstairs."

  I shook my head. "No, here. Because I want you to sit in this room next time and think of me bent over like this. Every time someone gets up on this podium, I want you to have this visual."

  He leaned forward and kissed the nape of my neck. "You really want to make it impossible for me to concentrate in another meeting again, don't you?"

  "Yes, I do. Is that so wrong?"

  He laughed at that. "You are a handful."

  "You are not the first person to ever tell me that."

  I wiggled my ass, and his hands slid over my skirt. "So, what? You want this memory imprinted on me don't you?" His laugh was a deep rumble, and he kissed the nape of my neck again, adding a little nip this time.

  "Bridge."

  "You, woman, are going to be the death of me."

  As he pulled back, I stood up and turned around, grabbing onto his shirt. "That's the plan."

  I kissed him deeply as our tongues fused and danced and played, and I could feel his resistance melting. I could feel him giving himself over to the idea. The tension easing out of him and the need in him rising. Especially as the length of his erection pressed up against my belly. He picked me up easily and placed me onto the podium. "Why are you so dangerous?"

  "I don't know. You love me either way."

  "You are right."

  We kissed like that for a long time with me now in a better position for his cock to slide against me. My skirt was a leather, A-line pleated number I’d paired with blue thigh-high stockings and a blue jumper. The stockings were a thicker fabric, and they'd been perfect to walk around in because I didn't feel cold in the stone rooms. He parted my thighs and he stepped between them, deepening the kiss and growling slightly when I whimpered. "Ems. You really want to do this?"

  "Oh, I really want to do this."

  I reached for his belt, making quick work of it and his zipper. When I pulled out the thick length of his erection, he hissed at the contact with my fingers. "Fuck."

  "Mm-hmm," was all I could mutter as my hand glided over the steely satin-covered softness.

  "Fuck. Oh Jesus, Emma."

  I murmured. "Yeah. You like how that feels?"

  His hands tightened on my waist. "You know I fucking do."

  "I like how it feels too."

  I could almost feel the exact moment when careful, calculated Bridge let go, and my husband took over.

  I liked to differentiate between their personalities. Careful, calculated Bridge was the Bridge who was always thinking ahead, weighing the consequences. My husband was the one who took over when he was tired of being in control all the time. The one who let me in. The one who had his walls down.

  His hands slid up over my thighs and under my skirt. "You naughty thing. Are you wearing knickers under here?"

  I shrugged. "You'll have to reach higher and find out."

  As it turned out, I was. He grumbled when he felt the satin of them. But that wasn't a deterrent because he hooked a thumb under the elastic and shifted it aside, and I brought the tip of his engorged cock straight to my folds. We both moaned at the contact, and he took over sliding the length of his erection against my wetness. Fisting his cock at the base, he stroked it over me. "You are so wet."

  "Am I?"

  "You have been thinking about this for a very long time, you naughty thing."

  "Yep, that means I should probably get punished."

  He chuckled darkly. "My, my. I'm starting to think you like the little swats on your behind."

  "Let's just say it's one of the few times I'm ever truly surprised."

  "Note to self. Surprise Emma more often."

  And surprise me he did. Because without any preamble, he stroked the mushroom tip of his cock over my clit, stroked down, and entered me in one deep grind. My eyes flared wide. "Oh, Jesus."

  His gaze sharply narrowed on mine. "Fuck, you okay?"

  I expelled a long breath. "Uh, okay doesn't even begin to describe it. Wow, yeah, more than okay."

  He retreated almost all the way and then with the snap of his hips drove forward again.