Chapter 127

MADDISON

My shift kicks off like any other night I’ve been here. I’m circling the three-sixty bar, serving customers with a practiced smile and a professional demeanor. Some strike up small talk with me, while others keep to themselves.

I won’t lie—I prefer the silent ones. It’s easier to be this quiet, pretty, untouchable server. But that’s mainly because they chat about their experiences or their anticipations.

I feel like I can’t confess that I’m also eager to dart in and out of the rooms tonight, curious about what might unfold. I shouldn’t feel this shame gnawing at my gut, but it’s there—rooted in the trauma of my father and Mr. Fennick manipulating my happiness.

They pushed me into this world, forced me into it, maybe even conditioned me to desire these dark, unconventional things. Because of that, I feel torn and somewhat angry at myself for not completely abandoning that life.

The mere thought sours my previous contentment. It’s just past ten o’clock, and I’m the only barmaid on duty, which means everyone comes to me for drinks.

But when John arrives at eleven, my real shift starts. Tonight, I’m tasked with hosting the clients, introducing them to others with similar interests, and ensuring the rooms run smoothly.

I’m hesitant to admit that this is the first night Atticus has trusted me to handle things on my own. He’s here, of course, but he’s not really here—if you catch my drift.

I know he’s observing from somewhere nearby, and I know he promised to protect me at all costs. But tonight’s the night—the opportunity I have to prove myself to him, and to Zach.

The pressure is palpable. I can feel the weight of it all on my shoulders as I strive to make this role a permanent one. It’s strange, really. Today has been full of surprises.

I’ve discovered that there are actually four floors here. This floor, the topmost one, is the actual club, and the other rooms are for members to stay overnight and play.

I toured all the rooms earlier this evening, noting that each one is set up for different activities. They can be used as private rooms, but they can also have an open-door policy.

Toys, lube, and furnishings are cleaned meticulously, and the intimate ones are replaced after each use, which is a far cry from what I’m used to.

On the floors below, each room is designed for different purposes, each stocked with single-use toys, lube…even outfits—available for single nights up to a week.

Apparently, all clients are vetted, each given a picture-coded pass to access all four levels, with guards there to scan them through and confirm each individual’s access to this world.

I plan to ask Atticus more about how the club operates because, right now, it seems like a community where people come to practice safe BDSM sex with like-minded individuals they know and trust.

This is a stark contrast from Sanctum, where men came to purchase services from unwilling young girls. And that leads me to something I’m not ready to contemplate.

I desperately want to be part of this community, to play freely—to practice this style of sex with Asher and have him attend events here that would be enlightening for both of us.

And honestly, though it scares me, I want to be shared again. Trust me, my mind has been racing with ideas—from suggesting a threesome with Asher and the attractive businessman Grayson to asking him if he’d share me with his own brother.

But I haven’t, and probably never will, muster the courage to ask such things of Asher. He doesn’t seem interested in this lifestyle, which leaves me in a difficult position.

I’ll have to be the one to teach him what I want and need, and I’ll have to compromise where sharing is concerned. The thought is both depressing and enlightening.

Depressing because I’m sexually frustrated and need more from Asher. I need something I’m unsure he’ll ever fully commit to, yet I cling to the hope that perhaps in time, he’ll learn.

Enlightening because I genuinely believed this part of me would die as soon as I left those bullets in the two men who used me in the same way I’m yearning to be used now.

The whole thing—

“Evening, Maddy,” Grayson’s voice, rich and enticing, interrupts my thoughts.

I glance up to find him standing there, a small, almost unnoticeable smile playing on his lips as he watches me with curiosity. The image of him undressed flashes in my mind, tempting me, but I quickly dismiss it.

“Hendrix?” I ask softly, guessing that he’s a man with particular preferences.

He confirms my suspicion with a nod, then takes a seat on one of the bar stools in front of me.

I move behind the bar to fetch his preferred drink, serving it over two ice cubes and a slice of lime before carrying it back to him.

I grab a disposable placemat, the old club name boldly printed in black, and set his tumbler on it, offering him a smile.

“Thanks, darling,” he rumbles. His voice is low and commanding, demanding my compliance without having asked anything of me.

I clear my throat, distracting myself by wiping down the bar, cleaning up the remnants of spilled drinks.

“Have you considered my proposal?” he inquires as I approach him again.

“I—”

A woman cuts me off, her interruption a welcome reprieve, as she greets Grayson with a smile, asking if he’s prepared for tonight’s performance.

He responds with a nod, tugging at her chin as he greets her with a quick kiss and a dazzling smile.

Our conversation is abruptly forgotten, much to my relief, but a pang of jealousy hits me as I realize that this young blonde will be accompanying him as his companion tonight.

With a sigh, I move around the bar, gathering the empty glasses, then rinse them in preparation for drying.