“Where are we going, Siberian?”
“Patience,” he intoned.
Not exactly my strong suit. After all, impatience was a sibling to curiosity.
A thought struck me. “Why did you pick a butterfly mask for me?” Of all the creatures he could have chosen.
“Do you think there has to be a reason?”
“I’m finding that you don’t do anything without a reason.”
“Perhaps there was . . .”
“Here we are,” the woman said, stopping before an unmarked door. She unlocked it, and we entered.
An ornate candle chandelier cast subdued light over the space. In the middle of the room was a large settee upholstered in sumptuous-looking fabric. Antique chairs and tables made up a sitting area off to the side; a copper tub sat off to another. A plush theater curtain covered an entire wall.
The air was warm, smelling of candle wax and . . . newness. Which was odd, considering how vintage everything else had seemed.
It also smelled of leather.
The woman opened a waiting bottle of chilled champagne, pouring two flutes before she left. At the door, she gave me a knowing wink. What did she know that I didn’t?
Maybe that a train was barreling down the trestle? Or how deep the freaking water was?
Keep cool, Natalie. I trusted this man to protect me, to pleasure me, to be what I needed him to be.
He motioned to the settee. “Sit.”
I did, noting that it faced the theater curtain. Would we be viewing a movie? A bawdy play? We hadn’t gotten to enjoy the masquerade at all, I thought with disappointment. In books, people always got to stay till midnight at least—not ten measly minutes.
Now that my eyes had adjusted to the dim light, I spied covered shapes throughout the room—shapes that could be anything. But I had an idea. My mind raced to those BDSM vids I’d devoured, the primer I’d inhaled, the magazine I’d shown him. Was there a pillory in here, or a spanking bench, or a swing? Would Sevastyan bind me up to torment me?
Part of me was terrified at the prospect. But I was woman enough to admit the idea got me wet. Roll with it, roll with it.
When he sat beside me, I said, “What is this room?”
“It’s ours. One of the very few available to own.”
Ours? “How long have you had it?”
“About nine hours. I had it renovated today and equipped to my specifications.”
Since our fight this morning? That explained the new smell. I could only imagine the money he’d had to throw at this to get everything ready in time.
He picked up a multi-button remote from the table beside the settee. “You told me that you wanted to see more of Paris. Here’s another slice of it.” He pressed a button. The curtain began to open, revealing a wall of glass.
Behind the glass was . . . was . . .
When I realized what I was beholding, I breathed, “Oh. My. God.”
Sevastyan’s hand shot out to catch my champagne flute just before it hit the ground. . . .
Chapter 34
When my shock lessened a degree, I was able to comprehend what I was seeing beyond the room’s glass wall.
Sevastyan had brought me to this private club to witness . . . an orgy.