His Wife: Chapter 16

The curved driveway is lined with symmetrical half-walls, the top stone arches mirroring one another on either side of the asphalt path. Our car headlights catch the rows of well-manicured shrubs decorated with tiny white lights that make it seem like a thousand fireflies got caught in their leaves. The fairy lights’ glow creates a magical scene as the gravel pathway leads us to what looks like a castle, with a tall tower framed with the Italian night sky and scattered stars.

I lean to the side while glancing out the window, trying to take it all in against the midnight sky. “What is this place?”

“It’s a very elite club.”

I turn to look at him. “Elite, meaning…?”

“Private,” he answers simply. “A private club.”

“And by private club, you mean…” I press for an answer, but he continues to stare at me without saying a word. “Yours? This club is—”

“It belongs to the Dark Sovereign, yes.”

A flutter starts up in my chest. “So, this is an…adult club?”

His face is a portrait of amusement, mischief and devilry hiding behind blue eyes touched by the white lights surrounding us. “Look at the building, and then you tell me if it’s an adult club or not.”

I turn my attention to the breathtaking property, a moonlit castle complete with its parapet. Golden spotlights splash against the stone walls, highlighting the blue-gray shuttered windows and tall tower. “It looks like a castle.”

“It is a castle. Well, it was once. But it’s no longer formally acknowledged as one.”

“I can’t imagine something this beautiful being an adult club.”

Alexius shifts next to me. “What kind of clubs do you think we run, Leandra? Sleazy strip joints and filthy whorehouses?”

“No, of course not.”

He narrows his eyes at me, and I can feel warmth spreading to my cheeks.

“I don’t know what to think.”

“That’s the problem with the world today. Everything gets stereotyped to the worst version of what something can be.” He straightens his jacket sleeves. “People think about an adult club and imagine a filthy dungeon with dirty whores and drugged-up slaves.”

“That’s not—”

“I know.” His gaze cuts to mine. “But you can’t deny that the thought has crossed your mind.”

I reach to weave fingers through my hair, forgetting that it’s swept together in an elegant up-do, a special request from my husband.

Alexius touches my cheeks, and my skin instantly ignites. “There are two reasons I wanted to bring you here tonight. One, so you can see for yourself that we’re not juvenile criminals selling cheap sex to back-alley sleazeballs who can’t afford a bowl to piss in.” The car stops, but Alexius makes no move to get out, his intense stare pinning me in my seat. “This is Mito, Italian for Myth. It is one of our most elite private clubs and casinos. Like Myth back in Chicago, only the cream of the crop here in Italy knows about this club. The only way you can get into this club is with a six-figure monthly deposit, and that’s not even our VIP clientele.”

“How do you become a VIP?”

Alexius studies me, biting his bottom lip as if he’s trying to decide if my question is something he’s willing to answer. “Come on.” He taps on his window, and Maximo opens his door. “Let me show you.”

I get out of the car. The sweet scent of European olive trees fill the night air, and I crane my neck as I look up at the tower, counting five rows of windows. Five floors. The castle blends ancient and modern architecture, its centuries-old stone walls still perfectly maintained. The building is a landscape painting with the dark purple and black hues of night and walls in muted creams. It’s stunning.

After straightening my emerald-green dress, the diamond studs along the deep V neckline sparkling under the lights, I catch Alexius staring at the top of my thigh showcased by the slit that runs up from the hem on the skirt cut just below my knee.

“Did you do as I said?” His suggestive tone has me smiling.

“I did.”

“Good. Now, let’s see how many men I can kill in one night.”

I lift a brow. “It was your request.”

“For my pleasure,” he replied. “And my pleasure only.”

I clench my thighs. Wearing a dress with a slit that runs this high makes it impossible to forget that I’m not wearing any panties.

“Here.” He’s holding a black lace masquerade mask, and I frown as I take it from him.

“What is this for?”

“A precaution.”

“For what?”

He slips in behind me, placing the mask on my face, gently tying it behind my head, and clipping it into my hair, explaining his request for an up-do hairstyle. A shiver travels down my spine as he places his warm hands on my shoulders, leaning closer and having his lips brush against the shell of my ear. “There’s no chance in hell I’d let my wife show her face to every man here.” He places a tender kiss on the side of my neck. “Which is why I arranged tonight to be a special masquerade…event.”

I turn my face to bring my lips an inch from his. “No one will know who we are? Who you are?”

“No one.” He circles to my front and slips his solid-black mask over his eyes. The mask is featureless against the bold lines of his face. It has a sheen that brings the mask to life under the lights, and he seems more regal than ever, his broad shoulders and tall frame outlined with the gold hues of the fairy lights casting the grounds in a magical glow.

My heart is beating so loud I can hear it in my ears. Butterflies occupy my stomach, fluttering madly with a mix of uncertainty and excitement. I hook my hand into the crook of his elbow while Alexius instructs Maximo to stay by the car. It’s clear by the lines of his frown that Maximo isn’t happy about it.

The click of my heels resounds off the cobbled stairs, the cold breeze digging its sharp claws into my calves. But the second we walk through the doors, the cold is smothered with a burst of warm air that envelops us. There’s a sweet scent of vanilla and cinnamon, an erotic blend with a lavender undertone. Pristine white marble floors with delicate lines of gold welcome us. Sparkles of diamonds from the chandelier’s delicate web of gold and tiny crystals scatter across the foyer in a prism of color, drawing eyes to its perfection. Every inch of this place is decorated with wealth and sophistication, priceless art adorning the walls as a golden sheen touches every corner.

This isn’t what I imagined it to be like at all. All those times the Dark Sovereign and adult line of business would come up in a conversation, I never once thought of it to look like this. There are no dark corners with hidden places and shadows of depravity clinging to the walls, no looming unease of filthy lechery that thickens the air. Instead, everything is open, light, and people—couples walking about, chatting and laughing, drinking champagne, and nodding toward us in welcome, not acknowledgment. They have no idea who we are, who my husband is, and it excites me—the freedom our anonymity rewards us behind the masks we wear.

Waiters dressed in black and white uniforms move through the crowd with trays of filled glasses. Men sit around poker tables, stacks of chips fanned out in front of them while their partners stand behind them. I’m surprised to see just as many women as there are men, each seemingly having just as much fun as their male counterparts.

Alexius guides me through the crowd to a set of stairs that lead us to the second floor. We don’t speak, partly because I have no words, still digesting everything I’m seeing.

The second floor is mainly the bar. Earthy tones and dark wood finishings are accentuated with low lamps and dimmed light, enough to give off a soft glow, while ethereal music creates a relaxed atmosphere. Men are smoking cigars and drinking whiskey, seemingly deep in conversation, while seated in booths with black cushioned seats. Women standing together are leaning close, painted lips moving with the latest gossip, some smoking cigarettes and laughing quietly at the secrets they share. It’s when they glance at Alexius that their lips part with silent awe, their eyes raking over him and relaying their lecherous thoughts. Even with a mask hiding part of his face, he’s still a force that demands the attention of everyone around him. But instead of jealousy, it’s pride that fills my chest and warms my flesh because I’m there, too. I’m the one clutching his elbow, the woman who gets to accompany him now and warm his bed later. He’s mine. And by the way their glowering gazes drip like venom down my frame, they know it, too.

Alexius grabs two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter and hands me mine.

“This place is…it’s beautiful, Alexius.” I take a sip of the sparkling gold drink, the gentle fizz and delicate taste trickling across my tastebuds.

“Does it look like you imagined?”

“No. Not at all.”

His smile portrays his small victory over proving me wrong, and as we approach the second set of stairs, he turns to face me. “This brings me to the second reason for me bringing you here tonight.”

My pulse quickens. “What is it?”

He steps closer, bowing his head to stare down at me as he snakes an arm around my waist. His hand rests possessively on the small of my back, failing to hide his need to have the world know I belong to him. Tension mounts between us, the swirls of blue in his eyes pulling me into their depths, and I can see it, the desire, flickering like flames while electricity crackles around us. He reaches out to brush a finger along the bottom edge of my mask. “You are so fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, and I can feel every word licking down my back, igniting a flame in my core.

“What is the second reason for bringing me here?”

His gaze follows the trail of his finger as it slips down the side of my neck and over my shoulder. “To unravel.” His voice is dark, a sensual drip of an erotic promise.

I swallow, my senses suddenly heightened, aware of the way he stares at me, the heat of his gaze as powerful as physical touch.

“You and I are best when we unravel together, Leandra. When we allow ourselves to indulge in the most wicked desires that bloom from our mutual need to lose control.”

I’m trembling with anticipation, my legs weightless and pulse racing. “What are you saying?”

His touch is fire when he places a fingertip against my jaw, urging my chin up toward him. “I want you, stray,” he murmurs.

“You have me.”

“No.” He shakes his head lightly, licking his lips as he gazes at mine. “I want. You. Without inhibitions. Without the barrier society creates to ensure we experience guilt and shame just thinking about our most erotic fantasies.”

I hold my breath as his words, his voice, his presence light every inch of my body on fire.

He leans down, his lips hovering close to mine. “Unravel with me, Leandra.”

A moan catches in my throat as he kisses me, his tongue sliding into my mouth. Tasting. Teasing. Igniting. With a palm flat on my back, he pulls me close, and I can feel every hard line of his body against mine. His familiar scent fills me, and his taste leaves little room for thought other than the feel of his tongue dancing with mine. A simple kiss from him has me falling deeper into the moment. Into the salacity this club expertly evokes in its patrons.

He tears his lips from mine, and I’m already panting, arousal pooling between my legs.

“I want you to embrace the freedom tonight. Let your desires guide you without restraints.”

“What exactly are you saying?”

He nudges my chin, so I crane my neck, looking up at him in the dim light. “No one touches you, and I am the only man who gets to fuck you. Other than that,” he places a gentle kiss on my jaw, “your fantasies are an open field tonight.”