Page 8

“Ugh,” I grunted with a scowl. “You’re better than this.”
Despite not having a plan, I started cleaning myself up. I always felt better when I looked better. Who cared that it was almost nine in the evening with nowhere to go?
Except, maybe I could go somewhere.
The dull eyes lightened with my slow smile, and an idea was born.
As I opened the back door to Voyeur, a wave of déjà vu hit me. So much about the quiet beat of music from around the corner and the scent of expensive exploits reminded me of the very first time I snuck in. I even wore the same silver sequin miniskirt and silky cream top.
The only difference was that no one had to meet me to unlock the door and let me in. No…I had a key to every door in this building. Technically, I should’ve been able to walk in any damn door I wanted to. My husband owned Voyeur. Kent created it from the ground up with his best friend and business partner—my Uncle Daniel.
Therein lay the issue.
Voyeur wasn’t a typical club, more like a playground for the rich to watch their wildest fantasies come to life. At first glance, it appeared to be a high-end gentleman’s bar mixed with a club, but it was behind closed doors where the magic happened. People could select whatever sexual scenario they wanted, and Voyeur provided a live, private performance for them to get off to. Alone or with a partner—or five.
Sometimes customers chose to use the bar area as their foreplay. As much as they wanted to watch, they liked to be watched in return.
I know I did.
Without me, Daniel and Kent created rules to mitigate any awkward encounters. They agreed to discuss when either of them would be there with their partner because I didn’t want to see Daniel caught up in anything with his wife, Hanna, and I sure as shit didn’t want him seeing me with Kent. But trying to start a conversation with my uncle about when would be a good time for me to show up at a sex club while he wasn’t there so I could fuck his best friend went about as well as one could imagine.
Needless to say, Uncle Daniel changed the subject a lot.
Irritation dimmed the excitement of the delicious atmosphere as I rounded the corner. Almost every time I came to Voyeur, it never failed to leave me in awe. The low lights cast the corners in shadows, hiding illicit encounters. The music pulsing through the writhing bodies on the dance floor. The long, luxurious wooden bar hosting small talk between patrons looking to find another to indulge in viewing their darkest fantasies.
I loved it all.
At least when I could actually be there to love it. Lately, that time felt like it grew less and less. Kent’s business took up more and more time as he got closer to opening the new hotel, leaving Daniel to manage the club. I.E. I didn’t even get to come here to enjoy a private showing alone.
I tried to shake off the mood and remember why I was there—to surprise my husband at work. He’d said he had paperwork to do, which meant he would most likely be in the office. Surely, the chance of running into Daniel was minuscule. Even so, it was a risk I was willing to take to escape moping around the house for the rest of the night. I could feel the weight of my period coming, and I hated it—I hated what it meant.
“Olivia,” Amara greeted me with wide brown eyes from behind the bar.
“Hey, Mar. Can I get a cranberry-vodka?”
She nodded distractedly, her eyes flicking over my shoulder. My brows pinched, confused. I was about to turn to see what had her so on edge when her attention snapped back to me.
“Yeah,” she agreed with a bit too much exuberance. “One cranberry-vodka coming right up.”
With an overly bright smile, she turned away to mix my drink. Amara was neither too friendly nor too cold, so both reactions left me confused. Before I could dwell on it too long, she came back with her regular smile.
Not quite ready to head to Kent just yet, I took a slow sip of my drink before getting comfortable. “How’s the club been?”
“Good. I think everyone has been a little bit rowdier since the holiday charity event. It’s a bummer you couldn’t make it.”
The alcohol soured in my stomach, mixing with the bitterness that still lingered over missing the illicit night when Voyeur toed the line of being an actual sex club and not just for watching. It had sounded like everything I would have loved to experience with my husband. Being splayed out in the open while he worshipped me. Maybe a stray hand touching to help. Just the thought stole my breath.