“I don’t normally offer this kind of thing, but I’m worried about you, Anya, and I want you to be okay, so… would you like to come with me to a club sometime to watch us role-play? That’s kind of what it is, after all. It might help you feel more comfortable with the whole thing, to see what a healthy arrangement would look like.”
Touched by her concern, I find I’m actually intrigued by her offer. If it will help me be more comfortable with how Nicolo is using me, perhaps I should do it, because I can’t keep going at this pace. I feel like I might split in two if the conflict inside me continues.
“Nicolo seems like the kind of guy who finds the fight more interesting than the sex. Maybe if you find your peace with it, Nicolo will lose interest and move on. Then you could find someone kinder, someone, who will treat you better.”
Whitney’s gentle tone is encouraging, and a spark of hope warms my chest. Maybe she’s right. Nicolo did lose interest in me as soon as he got what he wanted the first time, and even back then, it seemed more about the conquest than the actual sex. He liked winning me over, and now, he wants to break me. If I can find a way to accept it, he might just move on more quickly.
“If you’re sure, I might really appreciate that,” I say, my blush intensifying as I realize she’s offering to let me watch something incredibly intimate.
Whitney gives me another squeeze before releasing my shoulders. “Done. Let me talk to him today, and we’ll find a time this week.”
“Thank you, Whitney,” I say. “Not just for that, but for being such a good friend. I don’t know what I would do without you.”
Stopping in front of the bus stop, Whitney turns to meet my eyes. “Fortunately for you, we’ll never have to find out because you’re stuck with me, friend. I’m grateful to have another real person in this school full of trust-fund prima donnas.” She jerks her head in the direction of the Rosehill campus.
A horn honks behind Whitney, and I glance over her shoulder to see a sleek blue Lamborghini pull up to the curb. Whitney turns and releases a giddy squeak I’ve never heard from her before.
“See you tomorrow!” she calls over her shoulder as she skips toward the car like a schoolgirl.
I grin, loving that she could find such happiness with this bratva man of hers. My gut twists when I think of my own man in my life.How can I possibly find that same kind of happiness when he seems so committed to enjoying people’s misery?
24
ANYA
Knowing what the club is this time, I glance up and down the street to see if anyone is watching me as I enter Incognito alone. It feels as though I’m walking into a forbidden place, and yet, as soon as I’m through the door, triggering the quiet bell above my head, memories of my first time with Nicolo fill my mind as if triggered by some kind of pavlovian effect. The same girl as before strides to the door to greet me as a guest. Tiffany, I think her name is. She’s wearing the same thick eye makeup that makes her look fierce and dangerous, and the shiny leather pants, along with the matching bikini-like top, add to that effect. I wonder if she might not be a dominatrix as well as their receptionist, but I don’t dare ask.
“Can I help you?” she asks, her gaze far less scrutinizing than last time, and I don’t know that she remembers who I am without Nicolo by my side.
“Uh, yes, I’m meeting a couple here… Whitney and her–boyfriend.” Heat licks the back of my neck as I realize how that might sound. I don’t even know Whitney’s Bratva man’s name.
“They’re in the lounge,” Tiffany says, her tone holding no judgment.
She walks me down the same path as before, and when the space opens into the lounge, I spot Whitney’s dark pixie cut right away. Sitting beside her, his arm gently curling around her waist, is a man who cuts an impressive figure. He looks massive in comparison to Whitney, all brawn with a serious face and a thick beard that’s trimmed short. The way his arm holds her against his side, his hand resting on her hip, reminds me of how Nicolo put his arm around me at the club last weekend. At the time, it hadn’t felt affectionate so much as sexual to me, but seeing Whitney’s man do it makes it look so much more intimate.
“Have fun,” Tiffany purrs and turns back toward the reception stand, her stilettos clicking pointedly against the hard floor.
Heading into the lounge, I catch Whitney’s attention, and she waves me over.
Attempting a smile, I sink into the seat across from them. “Hi,” I say awkwardly. Now that I’m here, I sorely regret taking Whitney up on her offer.Isn’t this something private between these two?I feel like I’m intruding.
But Whitney reaches across the table to give my hand a squeeze. “You look like you just walked in on your parents having sex. Relax. Just think of it as a game. We don’t mind if you’re here, okay? It’s all part of the fun.”
I nod, licking my dry lips.
“This is Ilya,” Whitney adds, gesturing to the man who somehow manages to look even more intimidating up close. “Ilya, this is my friend Anya.”
“Pleasure,” he says, his Russian accent immediately apparent as he extends his hand to shake mine. “Whitney said you have an arrangement similar to ours and are still trying to… get comfortable,” he says delicately.
His deep voice vibrates through my bones when he speaks, sending a shiver down my spine. I have no doubt this man could kill someone with his bare hands. But he flashes me a charming grin that allows me to take a breath and relax ever so slightly.
I nod, still trying to find my voice. As I wrap my head around this exchange, Whitney’s warm smile sets me at ease. Ilya’s Russian accent, which reminds me distinctly of home and my family, brings an odd sense of comfort.
“I thought Ilya could explain a bit about how this works to help you better understand what roles you might play,” Whitney suggests.
Releasing a tense breath, I smile. “That sounds good.” At least we won’t be jumping right into action with whips and bondage. While Whitney says she enjoys it, I’m still struggling with the idea of watching it and how that might help me feel more comfortable with Nicolo.
“BDSM is not just about punishment,” Ilya starts, his dark eyes holding mine as he explains. “It is a game of power and control. My job is to create the scenarios I wish to entertain. It’s Whitney’s job to trust me. She must play the game, and when she does it right, I reward her.” A smile spreads across his lips as he looks at Whitney with amused affection. “Sometimes, there is no right answer. Then, I punish her.”