Even reach out to my exes under these less than ideal circumstances.
The door gives easily beneath my touch and I step through into darkness. I blink, trying to adjust. It’s not truly dark back here, but the intentionally dim lighting creates a strange intimacy I don’t know what to do with. I stop short, trying to take stock of the room. A large oblong bar in the center surrounds a truly overwhelming statue of what appears to be an orgy. Deep booths line the walls on all sides, many of them occupied. A door on the other side of the room has a short white woman standing in front of it—obviously security of some kind. Through there is where the kink happens, where people shed their civilized selves and engage in all manner of things that I can only know about in theory.
Beast and Gaeton may be patrons of this place, but they never brought me here. Neither of them ever—
My brain feels strangely buzzy and detached and I can’t decide if I’m relieved or disappointed that I don’t see the men in the lounge. Either they’re not here yet, or they’re already in the back playing with other people.
I have no right to the jealousy that stings my chest. None. Gaeton and I haven’t been together in over a year; my relationship with Beast ended a mere month after mine and Gaeton’s did. They are single and free to do as they wish with whomever they wish.
I rub my hand against my chest, my palm skating over silk. I dressed carefully tonight in a short black dress that clings to my body and teases at what I may or may not be wearing beneath it. I’m still not sure it’s the right choice.
I’m not sure of anything any longer.
“Isabelle.”
The white woman who approaches seems perfectly at home here. She wears tailored slacks that nip in at her ankles to display expensive red heels and her equally crimson blouse drapes over her lean body in a way that feels downright sexual. Dark hair falls to her shoulders in waves and does nothing to soften the sharpness of her features. But then, this woman doesn’t look like she’s interested in blunting her edges. She gives me a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’m Megaera. Come with me.”
I fall into step behind her, my body obeying before my mind has a chance to catch up. It’s almost enough to make me dig in my heels on principle, but I can’t afford to have my entrance to the Underworld barred.
We head down a hallway and through a door into a study. Once again, I stop short and try to process. It’s a deep room decorated in grays, with an arrangement of couches on one side and a desk on the other. The lack of color should make it feel cold, but somehow it’s welcoming in a distant kind of way.
Megaera moves to perch on the edge of the desk and waves an elegant hand at the chair in front of her. “Sit.”
I sit.
She studies me as if she wants to peel apart my skin and poke around inside my head. It’s not a comfortable feeling, and I have to force myself to hold her gaze despite every instinct demanding I drop my eyes. Finally, Megaera sits back and props her hands on the desk. It should look casual, but it somehow gives the impression of a predator about to pounce. “I’ll admit, I never expected you. Not after Hades sent you packing with your tail between your legs.” She tilts her head to the side, still studying me. “I should bill you for all the damage Beast and Gaeton have caused this club, all because of your pretty little pussy.”
I blink. “Excuse me?”
“You’re in the Underworld, sweetheart. There’s no point in playing coy. You’ve never come to play before, which means you have a reason for being here and I highly doubt it’s because you’ve suddenly developed a lust for kinky good times. If that were the case, you would have already indulged with those two fine specimens.”
She’s making too many jumps. I can barely keep up. “What are you talking about?” Except I know, don’t I? Did I truly expect to walk in here with no questions asked? Hades and Megaera don’t hold influence over the main players in Carver City by being fools.
“Keep the playacting for the men, Isabelle. That shit doesn’t work on me.”
At her derisive look, I tense. She’s right. Playing innocent won’t get me anywhere in here. I should have known better. That role usually works better with men, anyway. I straighten the tiniest bit, though it’s still a challenge to hold her gaze. “I need them.”
“Now we’re getting somewhere. Elaborate.”
How much to tell? I decide to stick with what’s public knowledge. “They’re our generals.”