Time blurred as we drove. Lucas turned the radio on, and I counted nine songs before the car swung left, trundled down a short slope, reversed, and then stopped.

"Are we here?"

"We are."

"Now what?"

Lucas reached over and took off my blindfold, and I realised we were in an underground parking garage filled with expensive cars. A Ferrari, several Porsches, enough Mercedes and BMWs to start a dealership.

"What type of car is this?" I asked Lucas.

"A Maserati."

"It's yours?"

He nodded. "I asked a friend to drop it off for us tonight. You need to put your shoes back on."

My mouth went dry as I slid my feet into the plain black stilettos, and Lucas climbed out to open my door. Our footsteps echoed as we walked to the elevator in the far corner of the garage, plain silver doors with no indication of what was above.

"Do you want something to eat?" Lucas asked. "The food here is good."

I quickly shook my head. "No, I couldn't stomach anything."

"I figured you'd say that, but I wanted to check."

The reflection in the mirrored wall of the elevator didn't look like Violet from Oakwood Falls. No, the woman staring back at me was a femme fatale, a throwback to old Hollywood in a sleek black dress with cleavage I'd never have dared to show if Shonda hadn't made me. Apparently, she had friends in the wardrobe department too. But under the glamour, I was just a scared little girl from small-town Kansas.

"I'm going to introduce you to an old friend of mine," Lucas said. "Braxton Vale. He owns this place, and he'll take care of you tonight."

"Take care of me as in..."

Lucas's laughter bounced off the walls, which felt as if they were closing in when he pushed the button for the first floor. "I don't know what he has planned, but he's a real ladies' man. Back in college, his nickname was Captain Kitty because of all the pussy he got. Well, until our final year, but the less said about that, the better. Anyhow, women love him."

"Captain Kitty?" My snort was most unladylike. "And what was your nickname?"

"Baloo."

"Dare I ask?"

"Because I'm ticklish."

Oh, really? I ran a finger up his ribs, and he squirmed away from me.

"Wish I hadn't told you now."

The doors slid open, and Lucas led me out into a quiet lobby. Soft music played in the background, something classical, but apart from that, there was no noise other than the click of my heels on the polished marble. I'd expected the place to look...well, a bit seedy. A dark little hole with men in leather and possibly a dungeon door. But I could have been in a fancy office building or an upmarket hotel if it weren't for the pair of tuxedo-clad security guards standing on either side of the front door. A chandelier glittered overhead, casting intricate shadows over walls decorated in black-and-grey velvet wallpaper with a fleur-de-lis pattern, and when I glanced to my left, I glimpsed a bar, an island of shiny wood and fancy bottles amid red velvet seating. In front of us, a perfectly made-up brunette standing behind a polished ebony podium smiled at Lucas as we walked over.

"Good evening, Mr. Collins. It's been a while."

"Lovely to see you, Jewel." When he bent to kiss her on the cheek, she blushed. "This is my guest for the evening. We're here to see Braxton."

"He's expecting the two of you." She pressed a button on the podium, and I heard a muffled click. "Go straight through."

Lucas pushed on the wall next to her, and a hidden door swung open, leading to a high-ceilinged hallway. Again, not what I'd been expecting. Cream walls stretched ahead of us with paintings hanging at regular intervals, but I got a shock when I paused to study one.

"Brax commissioned those. Every position from the Kama Sutra," Lucas told me. "All sixty-four of them." Just looking at the pictures made me dizzy, and I stumbled before he caught me. "You okay?"

"Do I honestly have to answer that?"

"If you want to leave at any time, just tell Brax, and he'll bring you back."

"Wait! You're not staying?"

"I have a phone interview. Some talk show."

"Tonight? But it's almost nine o'clock."

"Tokyo is sixteen hours ahead—it's afternoon there. And besides, someone has to cover for you at the beach house."

"But—"

"Do you trust me?"

"Yes."

"So you know I wouldn't have brought you here if I thought anything bad would happen." Lucas traced the outline of my mouth with a finger, then pushed up one corner of my lips. "Smile. You might even enjoy it."

"Somehow, I doubt that. But as long as it gets me through tomorrow's..." What had Shonda called it? "Through tomorrow's shitshow, I'll cope."

We reached the end of the hallway, and Lucas knocked on a set of tall double doors made out of swirly wood. Was that walnut? Everything about this place screamed money. Filthy, dirty money.

"That you, Collins?"

Lucas pushed the doors open, and I got my first glimpse of Braxton Vale. I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised that he didn't look like a man who owned a sex club. If I'd seen him in any other situation and been forced to guess, I'd have said he was a lawyer or a banker. Maybe a Silicon Valley entrepreneur. He sat behind a desk that matched the doors, feet propped up on a blotter. When we got closer, I saw that he'd scribbled down a few numbers and doodled a naked lady with her head in a man's lap. Perhaps appearances could be deceptive.

Lucas nodded toward his drawing. "Still haven't grown up, I see?"

"I got bored on a call with Tokyo. Too much waiting around for translators." He pushed his chair back and rose to his feet. "So, this is the lovely Violet."

"Y-y-yes."

I wasn't sure whether to shake Braxton's hand or hide behind Lucas, but Braxton solved the problem when he walked around the desk and kissed me on the cheek.

"Downstairs, we don't use real names. I think you look like a Fawn. So sweet and nervous." He circled us, and I felt his gaze burning into my ass. "Yes, we'll call you Fawn. Lucas filled me in on your little problem."

Oh, hell. I opened my mouth, but no words came out, and Braxton laughed.

"Don't worry. My whole business is built on secrets, so nobody else will find out." He nodded at Lucas. "Didn't you say you had to leave?"

"Yeah." Lucas squeezed my hand. "Remember, I'm only at the other end of the phone."

"She won't need you," Braxton told him. "I know what I'm doing."

"Captain Kitty, right?" I said.

"Baloo, you're a dead man."

Lucas backed away before Braxton could make good on his threat, the doors closed behind him with a soft thunk, and then we were alone. Just me, Braxton, and a whole roomful of my insecurities.

"You look as if you could use a drink."

"Only a small one. I'm still getting over last night's hangover."

Braxton reached into the cupboard behind his desk and retrieved two tumblers and a bottle of Scotch. Once he'd poured us both a generous measure, he settled back into his chair, but this time, he kept his feet on the floor. I swirled the amber liquid. Normally, I didn't touch the hard stuff, but I'd make an exception tonight because sober sex sucked.

"That movie's a real bitch, from what Lucas has told me. I caught one of those YouTube videos earlier. You turned white reading through the last script." He studied me. "Fake tan?"

"Fake everything. I'm in totally the wrong job. I came to California to wait tables, not to star in a movie."

"Isn't it usually the other way around?"

"So they say."

"Mikki Moretz looks like a handful to deal with. Well, two handfuls, but you know what I mean."

I choked on the mouthful of Scotch I'd just taken, and my throat burned. "She can be a little difficult."

"Lucas was right—you're too fucking polite. Sometimes, you have to say what you think. Now, what's your real opinion of Mikki?"

"Uh, I..."

"When you get downstairs, you'll need to tell the man you're with what feels good and what doesn't. He's good, but he's not a mind reader."

"Man? What man? I thought I was going with you?"

"I'll escort you, but I don't mess around with the women in my clubs. Don't shit where you eat, my mother used to tell me. Plus my wife would have something to say about it."

I had to stop drinking because this choking thing wasn't going to end well for me. "You're married? Doesn't your wife mind you running a place like this?"

"Not as long as my dick stays in my pants and the money keeps flowing." He rolled his eyes. "Now look who's being too honest."

"So who am I going to meet?"

"He hasn't arrived yet. Another drink?"

I shook my head. "No, thanks."

"While we're waiting, I need to go over the rules. First, know that I'm making an exception for you to visit tonight. A favour to an old friend. Guests usually aren't allowed into The Dark without their sponsor, but I understand David Jackson is very demanding when it comes to Lucas's time."

"Yes, he is, and thank you."

"I started this place eight years ago. Scandal after scandal was rocking the worlds of business, politics, and showbiz. Kiss-and-tells, irate mistresses, sex tapes, important men being caught with their pants down. So I spotted a gap in the market for a safe place where people like that could let off steam without fear of reprisals, and the club became more successful than I ever imagined."

"How do you ensure there won't be reprisals?"

That was my biggest fear, other than screwing up the sex.

"Strict membership requirements. Every member is vetted, and we only take those who have something to lose." Much as Lucas had said. "The only clothing permitted in The Dark is club robes, all electronics and jewellery are banned, and nobody asks personal questions." Braxton gave me a wolfish grin. "Plus any un-vetted guests have to wear blindfolds."

He meant me, didn't he? "I have to wear a blindfold?"

"I'm afraid so."

"So I won't even see the man I'm supposed to be with?"

"All part of the fun, don't you think?"

Er, no?

What if he was hideous? Or old? Or had a habit of picking his nose like Robby Graham in my high school math class? Could I really let a man touch me all over if I never saw his face?

Then again, Kane was undeniably good-looking but he still made my skin crawl every time he came near me. Perhaps being blindfolded wouldn't matter so much after all? As long as the guy didn't smell. And he'd brushed his teeth.

"I'm not sure about fun."

"I'll ask you that same question later, and I bet you'll give me a different answer."

"Where do I get the blindfold?"

"We have a selection you can choose from in the changing room. Don't worry—we don't reuse them. You can take it home with you as a souvenir. I should also mention our safety code. Any man engaging in penetrative sex with a person other than their regular partner has to wear a condom, and those are supplied too."

"What about the...uh, the room? Will strangers be able to see what I'm doing?"

"If that's your kink. The main bar has seating and a stage, and that's open for everything but the really hard stuff. We have a side room for that. At the rear, there are twelve playrooms, four with viewing windows and eight without. We've booked room twelve for you tonight."

"No window?"

"No window." Braxton smiled, and I felt a pang of jealousy over his wife. Yes, I understood now why Lucas had described him as a ladies' man. Did they have any more friends? "Just think of it as a hotel." His phone vibrated on the desk, and he glanced at the screen. "Your man's here. Time for you to change."

Oh, hell. At his words, the little shreds of confidence I'd been clutching whipped away, my heart raced at a wild sprint, and my feet almost followed it. Until now, this somehow hadn't seemed real, but here I was, ready to ditch everything from my dress to my earrings, blindfold myself, and meet a total stranger for sex.

Had I lost my freaking mind?

Braxton picked up on my fight-or-flight dilemma. "It's not too late to back out."

"Won't he be upset?"

"No."

"Will he find another girl instead?"

"Maybe." Braxton shrugged. "Probably. Do you want to go back to the house of horrors?"

"I can't. Not without doing this first."

"As you wish." Braxton rose again and held out his hand. "Shall we?"

I placed my hand in his, too nauseous to do anything but nod.

The changing room wasn't one of those tiny cubicles you found in department stores, but instead a luxuriously appointed boudoir bigger than the living room in the apartment I shared with Lauren. A rainbow of silk robes hung from a rail, each on a padded hanger, and one wall held a fascinating selection of masks, everything from plain satin to ornate carnival-style creations covered in beads and feathers. What should I choose? A black robe seemed too vampish, while red screamed out for attention. Bubblegum pink was cute, but perhaps too cute. I held a purple robe against myself, but put it back because it was too similar to my name. In the end, I settled on a dusky pink, feminine yet subdued.

Next, I needed to pick out a mask, and many of them were works of art. At first, I was tempted to go for something fancy, but would feathers and jewels be practical for what I was about to do? I rubbed a soft black leather affair between my fingers. Tempting, but too kinky. Then I found the same style in cream with delicate silver beading around the edges, just enough decoration to catch the light. That was the one.

Braxton had told me to leave my belongings on the velvet bench. Somebody would keep them safe and return them to me when I was ready to head back to the beach house. As I placed a hand on the door, I glanced at the little pile, saying goodbye to the old, safe, boring Violet because whatever happened tonight, I wouldn't be the same girl in the morning.

Then I walked into The Dark.