I was flustered, the criminal cases I’d worked on so far nothing to add to my resume. However, I sensed I couldn’t turn the opportunity down no matter how tough. I started to ask him the identity of my new client when his assistant walked in, red faced from trying to hunt him down.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt but your clients are here and they’re pissed. I don’t know why.”

  “Thank you, Stacy,” he said as he took a deep inhale. “I’ll leave you to your meeting while I put out some fires. I’ll have Stacy put the file on your desk so you can get up to speed over the weekend.”

  Maybe I could use it as an excuse to get out of the festive event.

  No, I knew better. I’d never hear the end of it.

  After he walked out, I took a deep breath, grabbing my notepad and pen. The afternoon was ticking by far too quickly. I only prayed the villainous Mr. McKenzie was taking the night off.

  I headed down the corridor to the conference room, straightening my back before opening the door and walking inside.

  The man sitting on the opposite side of the table rose to his feet, giving me a polite nod. I had no idea who he was, but the aging man was well dressed, wearing an expensive watch. As he walked around the table, he said nothing. Then he offered me his hand.

  When I accepted, a cold chill coursed through me.

  “Ms. Winston. A true pleasure to meet you. I’m so looking forward to working together.”

  “I’m sorry. You have me at a disadvantage. Who are you?”

  His laugh boomed into the room. “My name is Dr. Ernest Davidson.”

  Bells and whistles went off, the name suddenly far too familiar. He was an acquaintance of my father’s but that wasn’t all.

  He’d been accused of killing his mistress in cold blood.

  CHAPTER 3

  Lachlan

  Behave.

  I’d told the gorgeous woman she needed to behave. While I hadn’t lied to her, I’d also taken out my anger from a terse meeting earlier that morning on her. The fact I was being hassled about something that happened years before pissed me off to the point I’d almost taken a swing at the poor guy. Letting my anger get the better of me wasn’t in my best interest. I could almost read the headlines now.

  Notorious Billionaire Kink Club Owner Loses His Shit

  Perfect.

  Then she’d stepped in my way with fire in her attitude and hatred in her eyes.

  Her attitude alone had made me crave dragging her over my knee. It usually took longer than a few seconds for a member of the opposite sex to determine I was a vindictive pig. I chuckled from the realization. Still, while she wasn’t my usual type, the attraction had been explosive. I’d seen her before, always hiding her dazzling looks behind stern hairstyles and little makeup. There was a tiger clawing to be released inside. Now my cock twitched from the thought of taming her.

  Down, big boy.

  I shoved thoughts of the morning aside, heading through the bottom floor of my establishment.

  The Blackout Club.

  I still found it difficult to believe three college boys had believed in a dream that had turned into this mecca of sin. Now we were wealthy and highly respected even if the old money turned up their noses to our incredible success. Chuckling, I walked through the crowd of people, marveling at the energy in the expansive club.

  The recent renovation had been Jameson’s idea, taking our once provocative main club up several notches. From the use of black lights and neon, illuminated strands hanging from the ceiling, and the pulsing lights in the two massive dance floors, the party zone was energized every night, always at least one hundred or more people waiting to get inside.

  The new décor was impressive but the piece de resistance was the inclusion of special glasses provided to every guest after filling out a simple yet telling information sheet. When wearing the glasses, simply by coming within three feet of another person, guests were able to see everything about the person in question that had been provided.

  Likes.

  Dislikes.

  Preferred drinks.

  Music.

  And first names only.

  Talk about an icebreaker.

  The club was packed tonight, standing room only. I’d need to remind the bouncers to watch the numbers. The last thing I needed was the fire marshal shutting the place down. While the three Blackout Clubs owned by the corporation made millions of dollars every year, the real money maker was in the private side of the business.

  Members only, a half million-dollar entrance fee and yearly membership fees anywhere from five hundred thousand to one million. We were selective with our client list, those chosen required to provide a recent medical exam and a set of financials before being allowed entrance. The yearly requirement was helpful in keeping the riffraff out.

  I snickered at the thought. The waiting list at all three clubs was long. With a separate gated garage and valet parking, license plates covered and private entrances, the efforts we went to in order to provide total anonymity were highly respected.

  We employed a pro dom and pro domme at each location, a requirement of the rules we’d established immediately. They more than paid for themselves in providing monitoring, educational classes, and general advice when needed. With almost every kink represented, what we offered behind our thick walls had padded our bank accounts while servicing the most powerful and influential people in three prominent locations.

  Miami, Los Angeles, and the club I managed in DC. With plans for offering franchises in Milan, Paris, and New York, all three of us carried a heavy load of activity.

  Which was why the aggravating day had put me in a sour mood. I wasn’t used to being accosted in such an egregious fashion. While the woman who’d tossed coffee on my shirt had been beautiful, a feisty redhead with the eyes the color of the Aegean Sea, her caustic mouth had stripped away the initial dark, sadistic desires tearing through me.

  The girl hated me, and it usually took a woman at least a couple of hours on a date in order to come to that conclusion.

  I’d been forced to control my urge to yank out a chair, tugging up her tight, thin pencil skirt, ripping off her panties, and tossing her over my lap.

  A good spanking would do the woman some good.

  Yes, it had been an accident, but she’d acted like I was public enemy number one.

  Growling at this point wasn’t going to do me any good. Perhaps my crankiness had come from the fact I’d been busy every minute of the day, unable to change my shirt. At least I could retreat to my office and do so after making my rounds.

  There were several large parties enjoying a sizzling Saturday night. It seemed every time I walked through my own club, people parted the ways.

  I wasn’t God, although I controlled dark and dangerous dossiers of almost every private club member that I’d use if necessary. I’d instituted a mandate before we’d opened our doors that every member was to have a deep dive taken on their backgrounds. I’d been shocked at just how many dirty little secrets had risen to the surface.

  Keeping the information had proven to provide my own personal security. To date, neither Jameson nor Grant had been forced to open their little black books. Fortunately, I’d only been forced to on one occasion. That had been to save my ass.

  I moved through the crowd to the second room, taking a swing by the bar before weaving my way through the tables, nearly satisfied that everything was in order.

  I hired and trained several bouncers as well as a man I considered an enforcer, his military background already proving to be useful. Shit didn’t go down in my club. Period.

  As I rounded a set of tables, I was struck by the profile of a woman standing with several girls around a large, round table, her long hair shimmering in the pulsing lights. I moved closer, surprised at my intrigue. From afar and over the music, I heard her lilting laugh and my cock immediately twitched.

  How long had it been since I’d enjoyed spending time with a woman? Long enough it wasn’t just my body that ached. I walked closer, wanting nothing more than to catch a glimpse of her face.

  Why was I so drawn to her in the first place?

  The lovely woman lifted her head, her slight intoxication preventing her from recognizing me at first. Then she grabbed the special blackout glasses, laughing as she attempted to slide them on her face, finally peering at me from behind the thick shades. When she lowered her gaze, I noticed her eyes landed on my stained shirt.

  Almost immediately she turned away, jerking off the glasses and reaching for her champagne flute. When she almost knocked it over, I moved closer to the table, giving the entire group a nod.

  They stared at me with wide eyes, only one of them giving me a hard onceover.

  The woman from the coffee shop. My dominating side was in full force as I approached, curious as to her reaction.

  “Are you ladies enjoying your evening?” Two of the women pulled away, both staring at me with doe eyes.

  “We would if there weren’t so many pigs in the room,” the redhead answered tartly.

  “Jesus,” another woman muttered, the pumping music unable to hide the words from either woman.

  “I guess I’ll need to check with my bouncers at the door. I certainly wouldn’t want your evening interrupted by unwanted beasts. I’ll have a special bottle of champagne sent to your table in hopes to make amends.” I purposely crowded Coffee Girl’s space, drinking in her perfume as my cock swelled to the point of discomfort. Dressed entirely differently, the emerald dress she’d selected hugged every voluptuous curve, the deep cleavage exposing the soft swell of her breasts.

  “That’s very kind of you but not necessary,” a third woman stated.

  “Nope. More champagne!” a fourth purred as she tried desperately to cling to the table. I would make certain none of them were driving tonight, calling a limousine if necessary.

  “We don’t need anything from you, thank you very much,” Coffee Girl snarled. “We can pay our own way.”

  I moved behind her, allowing my breath to skip along the back of her long neck. “I suggest you be a good little girl.” As I trailed a single finger down the curve of her jaw, brushing it slowly across her naked shoulder, she shivered visibly.

  Then she tensed, her fingers gripped firmly around the flute. I had the distinct feeling she had plans on tossing the liquid.

  Issuing a husky but low growl, I backed away just as she turned around, frustration written all over her face.

  But there was a sparkling light in her expression, one that couldn’t be denied.

  Desire.

  The electricity from earlier in the day crackled again, the moment spun into an intense weave of hunger. I wanted nothing more than to drag her into the darkest part of the club, enjoying teaching her about the necessity of harsh discipline. I chose otherwise. The last thing I needed was to get involved with a guest.

  Or anyone else for that matter.

  Lark

  “I suggest you be a good little girl.”

  His whispered words played several times in my mind, his hot breath still sending trickles of desire into every cell. And his touch had seared my skin, keeping my pulse racing. I tried to swallow the lump in my throat, loathing the wetness between my legs.

  “Jesus Christ. That man is a force of nature,” Betsy murmured. “If I weren’t getting married, I’d jump all over him.”

  The girls laughed while I did everything I could to shake the evocative sensations. Yes, he was a force of nature.

  A tornado.

  “He’s an asshole,” I snapped, although the same visions I’d had before popped into my mind. The terrible day felt like a noose tightening around my neck. The alcohol wasn’t helping my mood or the atrocities slipping past my mouth. I hated that the new client shoved into my lap had unnerved me so much. After reading Ernest’s file, I was convinced the man was guilty. How was I supposed to represent him without seeming tainted by my beliefs?

  What upset my stomach the most was the fact Mr. Davidson appeared be to a member of Carnal Sins. That made me extremely uncomfortable.

  “Did you hear the rumor?” Margie interjected.

  “Do tell,” Jackie mused.

  “Lachlan’s father is reported to be a dark prince in his country.”

  “What the hell?” Now I was becoming annoyed.

  “Tainted royalty.” Margie had a huge grin on her face. It was obvious none of the other girls knew what the hell she was talking about. “Oh, come on. I don’t know if they have organized mafia in Scotland, but if they do then his father is a mafia Don while also being a king tossed from his throne.”

  Was it possible that was the truth?

  “Where do you get this shit?” Betsy asked, more amused than any of us.

  “I pay attention to every news source,” Margie countered. “That’s the only way to get ahead in this city. You have to admit Lachlan is dreamy. He gives off Daddy vibes.”

  Oh, my God. Granted, the smidgeon of gray hair at his temples added to his powerful vibe, but I wasn’t into older men. Or assholes.

  “Yes, the man is a dangerous jerk.” I was on a roll tonight and there was no excuse for it other than the horrible week I’d experienced. My thoughts drifted briefly to the new case. Did Lachlan know or care about the girl who’d died?

  “If you don’t lighten up, I will find a man and tell him you need to be fucked.”

  Even over the rumble of what I’d call tribal music, Betsy’s voice managed to draw attention. She was more intoxicated than I’d ever seen her.

  We all were. Thank God we had a limo.

  “I have been pestered by men all night,” I rebuffed, which was the truth. Of course, it likely had something to do with the cagey, flirtatious answers I’d provided on the ridiculous entrance questionnaire, including using the name Kinky Goddess as a nickname. Every man who’d approached had been looking for an entirely different kind of good time. Why had I been so flippant in my answers?

  “The sexy god is still wearing the shirt you dumped coffee on,” Jackie said, laughing as she scooted next to me. “He must remember you fondly.”

  “Uh-huh. I doubt that. He’s still wearing it as a badge of honor,” I muttered, casually glancing in the thick of the crowd, maybe in hopes of finding him. What are you doing? You hate the man. My little voice had nagged me since leaving the office, driving me insane with snippets of the ugly fantasy.

  “I heard he hates women,” Debbie threw out. “I’ve been here five times and I’ve seen him walk through, wearing his arrogance in the smug look on his face, only talking to those he deems important.”

  “You know about the sex club on the floors above us. Right?” Betsy slurred.

  I shuddered from the thought. Carnal Sins and a second competing BDSM club were all the rage in DC. Both were private, the members affluent. I’d also heard through chatter in the office that dirty deals went on behind closed doors. Maybe someone should investigate and determine whether any crimes were being committed.

  My mind shifted to kinky thoughts, wonderment about what kinds of proclivities were being exploited. Then I thought about Mr. Davidson again and held my breath. Should I believe in coincidences?

  “Joining is expensive, more than we could ever afford,” Jackie added.

  Margie leaned across the table, a grin on her face. I knew that look. She wanted to get us into trouble. “They do allow guests and I think they do selective tours of the entire illustrious establishment.”

  “Even if that’s so, you’d need to warm up Mr. McKenzie and I doubt that’s going to happen. Cold as ice with a black heart.” Debbie laughed then shot me a look. “But since you obviously know him, maybe you could heat up his frosty interior.”

  “Very funny. I wouldn’t go near him.” I grabbed the bottle of champagne, pouring a third or maybe fourth glass. I wasn’t planning on counting.

  “At least he made good on his promise.” Jackie pointed as a waiter brought another bottle of champagne to the table.

  “Kristal. Special reserve,” Betsy squealed.

  “Compliments of the house,” the cute waiter said proudly as he gave Debbie more than a single onceover.

  Debbie growled under her breath, sliding closer to the guy. While the employees didn’t wear the special eyeglasses, that didn’t stop her from donning hers, attempting to glean everything she could about the handsome man.

  Every employee I’d seen was gorgeous, including the beefy bouncers. I hid behind my champagne glass, thinking impure thoughts about Lachlan. Maybe the fact I’d finally gotten the courage to toss the asshole I’d been dating for two years to the curb was the reason I allowed myself to drift into an erogenous zone. There was no other explanation for my level of attraction.

  “So, you’re saying you have the key to sizzling Mr. McKenzie’s heart, or at least his raging hot body?” Betsy threw out.

  “Oh, I know I could.” I’d felt the extreme chemistry exploding between us. Maybe it was true about enemies making the best lovers. I had no plans on finding out. I had to draw the line somewhere if for no other reason than my sanity.

  “How about this? Why don’t we make a little wager?” Debbie purred as her grin resembled something evil.

  “Wager?” I asked, glancing around the table. They were all staring at me.

  “I love that idea,” Jackie mused. “Why don’t you ask to see Mr. Hottie then demand a tour of the club?”

  “I love it too! You’re the only one of us who can pull it off.” If Betsy squealed one more time, she wouldn’t make it to her wedding day.

  Maybe I was to the point of intoxication that I’d thrown out both common sense and mental control. “Meaning what?”

  Jackie drummed her fingers on the table. “If you’re successful in getting a tour, we’ll pay for your part of this fabulous evening.”

  “That’s my incentive?” I took another sip of champagne, then another, hating myself for longing to see the man entirely naked. That wasn’t like me. And that was never going to happen.