Dark Deception (Vampire Royals of New York #1) - Sarah Piper Page 0,104
but the helmet wasn’t. The thing had a face shield that felt like bulletproof glass.
Whatever lay beyond that doorway was serious business.
“Frightened, little mouse?” he teased, clearly enjoying her torment.
Still. After so much build-up, there was no way she could walk away now. She had to know what awaited her in the darkness.
“I don’t scare off that easily, Mr. Redthorne.” With a defiant smirk, she pulled the kneepads on and fastened the helmet, hoping he didn’t notice the tremble in her hands.
Could she do this? Give herself over completely to whatever dark fantasies lived in Dorian’s wicked mind?
How far would he take it?
How far would she let him take it?
Her brain was screaming at her to run, to call the whole game off. But she’d missed him too much, missed his kiss and his touch, and beneath her jeans, she throbbed with fresh desire.
“Are you ready, Ms. D’Amico?” Dorian lifted her face shield and took her hand. She couldn’t read his expression; he’d gone neutral.
Charley closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She’d had plenty of practice shutting off her brain, but she’d never ignored her instincts. Her physical being. Her desire. And right now, despite her trepidations, that desire was on red alert.
Whatever he’s got in store, you fucking want it, girl.
Opening her eyes, she flashed another smirk. “Show me to my demise, Mr. Redthorne.”
“With pleasure.” Dorian led her inside and turned on the lights, bathing the room in a soft red glow that gave off an upscale club vibe. “But first, a drink.”
Charley shivered, her nerves firing off in rapid succession as Dorian led her to the bar, gesturing for her to take a seat as he stepped behind it to play bartender.
A bar. Seriously. His freaky, secret sex dungeon had a bar.
It was like a club, just as she’d thought. A kinky, sexy-as-hell club that Charley—now that she was here—couldn’t wait to explore.
But the moment she looked around—really looked around—her nervous anticipation turned into a giggle, and within ten seconds, that giggle exploded into unabashed, belly-aching laughter.
“Oh my God,” she said. “This is a game room. As in… video games.”
With a shameless grin, Dorian sliced a lime and dropped it into her drink. “What else would it be?”
Charley couldn’t get her laughter under control. “But… the helmet? And the whole ‘the first rule of the secret room is don’t talk about the secret room’ thing?”
Dorian handed her a Sapphire and tonic. Pouring himself a scotch, he said, “Nothing I’m about to show you—including the gear you’re wearing—is on the market. The game I have in mind for us is called Midnight Marauder, and it’s still in beta. If the FierceConnect board knew I’d let you see it without signing the non-disclosure, they’d probably fire me from my own company. Cheers, love.”
Charley clinked her glass to his, her laughter finally subsiding. After a long pull of her drink, she set down the glass and met Dorian’s eyes. “I have a confession, but you’re not allowed to laugh.”
“Hmm.” He leaned across the bar, trailing a finger along her collarbone. “I hope it’s about your naughtiest fantasies.”
A shiver overtook her, her body responding immediately to his touch, igniting a firestorm across her skin. God, she’d missed him. What had she been thinking, blowing him off all week?
Feeling the blush in her cheeks, she said, “I thought you had some kind of… room.”
“Room?”
“A secret, kinky, sex-dungeon room.”
Dorian’s eyes glittered, his mouth wet from the scotch. “My, my, Ms. D’Amico. You have quite the imagination.”
“It’s your fault, Mr. Redthorne.”
“I’d hate to disappoint you. Perhaps we can make a compromise.”
Charley narrowed her eyes.
“You have to wear protective gear,” he said, his voice dark and low. “But you don’t have to wear clothing.”
“You are a scoundrel and a reprobate,” she teased, hopping off the barstool. “Now that you got me here under false pretenses, the least you could do is give me the tour.”
“My pleasure. Follow me.”
Unlike Dorian’s sprawling manor, the game room boasted no fine art, no priceless ancient statues, no hand-woven tapestries from dynasties long past. Instead, it was sleek and modern, with black padded walls and surround-sound speakers. The bar took up one side of the room, complete with cocktail tables and chairs. A massive curved screen dominated the front of the room, and at the back, Charley spotted a half-dozen old stand-up arcade games—Ms. Pac-Man, Donkey Kong, Space Invaders, and a few she didn’t recognize.
“This is incredible,” Charley said. “Is this where you do your product testing?”