by Diana Ames
He sighed and led her to the corner of the bar where her back would be to the action. He picked her up by the waist and set her on a barstool before signaling the bartender.
“I see you brought your own entertainment tonight, my prince,” the bartender said with a snarky grin. “No wonder you haven’t been interested in anything we have to offer.”
Anton growled low in his throat. He was about to lay into the bartender, but Mellissandra stopped him with one hand on his arm. She gave him a tiny frown and shook her head.
“I’d like a drink that is sweet and fruity,” Mellissandra told the bartender, keeping her face devoid of the disgust he made her feel. “And he’ll have whatever he usually has.”
The bartender chuckled as he went to get their drinks. He returned with a large frosty glass with a straw and put it in front of Mellissandra. He sat a shot glass and a bottle of scotch in front of Anton.
With a nod in the direction of the few tables just past the bar area, the bartender addressed Anton. “Looks like your brother finally got tired of that wife of his,” he said. “Not that anyone could blame him. The little chippy—”
“What the fuck are you going on about, asshole?” Anton cut him off. “My brother loves his wife and would never, ever—”
“Hey, man, just turn around. You’ll see what I’m talking about,” the bartender said, backing up with his hands in the air.
Mellissandra turned white at the odious man’s words and swung around on her stool to see Damian sitting at a table with a gorgeous black-haired woman. They were sitting very close due to the size of the table, and they were leaning into each other.
***
Alondra sat at the little table, horrified and fascinated by the sex acts taking place around her. She knew there were sex clubs in New York, but she’d never been to one of them, and she doubted sex took place in public there. She wasn’t going to be scared away though.
When Lynn had taken off after lunch, saying she had some errands to run, Alondra had been afraid she’d pushed the woman too hard for information. Before returning that evening though, Lynn had set up a meeting with someone who could get Alondra into the castle. Alondra had practically been floating on a cloud while getting ready to go to the club where the meeting would be taking place.
Lynn had said that Alondra would want to do her hair and makeup to the hilt, or she would be sure to stick out, so Alondra had done just that. Breaking out the hair gel, Alondra had teased six-inch spikes at the top of her hair, making her feel confident and tough, like she could take on the world and win.
It was nearly seven in the evening when Alondra had finally emerged from her rented bedroom, ready to meet Lynn’s friend. She had given Alondra directions to the club and told her to sit at a table and wait for the contact to find her. Alondra had wanted to argue with that, but she hadn’t trusted her luck or Lynn’s skittishness enough to push.
“You must be Alondra,” a man said, sitting in the chair next to her.
As Alondra looked him over, she felt the urge to check her mouth for drool. He had wavy sandy-blond hair combed back to show it was nearly shoulder-length. Even in the dark, his blue eyes sparkled and made her want to melt. She could tell he was well built by the way he filled out his button-down shirt.
“Alondra?” he questioned when she didn’t respond.
“What? Yes, yes, I’m Alondra Burkheart,” she said, shoving her hand toward him to shake.
He chuckled and took the offered hand, but he didn’t shake it. He brought the back of her hand to his lips and kissed it, his lips lingering. Alondra fought the urge to fan herself, and for the first time, she understood why women would swoon around handsome men.
“May I buy you a drink?” he asked her in a husky, deep voice.
“I’m good, thanks,” Alondra said. “I’d really like to get down to business if we could.”
“Are you uncomfortable here in the club?” He leaned in to hear her.
“No, not at all.” She knew her words and tone were at odds.
In truth, she wasn’t uncomfortable in the club. She was just out of her element. She’d been in worse places for meetings, and she certainly wasn’t going to let something like public sex keep her from getting her story. She was uncomfortable with how her body was reacting to the man sitting so close to her that she could feel the heat from his thigh against her own.
“Would you like to go to one of the private rooms?”
Thinking he was suggesting they go have sex, in that second, Alondra’s heart started to pound, and her body screamed yes.
“We can talk there without the distraction of…” He waved his arm toward the open area of the club.
With that comment, her hopes were dashed.
Alondra nodded in agreement and rose to follow the sexy man to a door that she hadn’t noticed before. That had probably been due to the fact that it blended perfectly with the black walls of the place.
She tried to hide the fact that she was burning up with attraction for the man whose arm was around her waist. She was ashamed of that reaction. She’d made it a point to stay away from men, especially handsome men who knew just how attractive they were, yet here she was, allowing herself to be led to a private room by a man who fit the mold of what she’d spent her life trying to avoid. The worst part was, she hadn’t even asked for his name.
***
“Don’t jump to conclusions,” Anton whispered in her ear. “Remember that everything isn’t always what it appears to be on first sight.”
Mellissandra pulled away from him and took a long drink of the icy concoction. Her face went from white to red in the blink of an eye, and she looked like she was ready to kill.
“Maybe he’s just interviewing her,” Anton said, trying to ease the rage he could see building in her.
“Nope, it’s not an interview,” the bartender chimed in. “All first interviews go through me, and only the ones who pass my test get to see Damian for a private meeting.”
“And just what are your tests?” Mellissandra asked, turning to give the man a dirty look.
“She’s got to be hot with a body to make a man pant.” From what he could see over the bar, he looked her up and down. “You’d pass that one, sweet thing,” he said with a wink. “She also has to be willing to do men and women, possibly do some bondage, take on more than one customer at a time, and fill two of the three.”
“Two of the three?” Mellissandra asked.
Anton groaned beside her.
“Women have three holes to fill—mouth, pussy, and ass. Everyone who works here has to be willing to take it in at least two of them,” he explained with a leer. “What about you, honey? I’ll bet you’ve got some sweet holes that need filling.”
Anton had already had enough of the bartender’s roving eyes and lecherous taunts, and the last comment sent him over the edge. He jumped over the bar and grabbed the man by his shirt.
“Shut your filthy fucking mouth. That is Damian’s wife and my sister-in-law. She’s a royal princess. You will keep your eyes, mouth, and anything else you have a mind to use to yourself!”
“Anton,” Mellissandra gasped. She’d never seen him lose his temper before, and while it was frightening, seeing him defend her honor also caused a fluttering in her belly.
Mellissandra glanced back over to the table where Damian and the woman were seated, but they weren’t there. Looking around, she saw them leaving through a door that was slightly concealed by the black walls of the club.
“Anton,” she said again. “They’re leaving. Where are they going?”
Anton dropped the bartender and glanced to where Mellissandra was looking. It appeared that Damian was taking the woman up the back stairs to the private rooms. Anton looked at Mellissandra again and got a sick feeling in his stomach.
“That’s the way to the private rooms,” the bartender said with unconcealed fury. “Looks like you’re being replaced, Mrs. Bellaro.”
Anton punched the man
in the stomach and hopped back over the bar. Putting his arm around Mellissandra, he pulled her into his chest.
“We should leave,” Anton told her quietly. “Damian can explain this. I know he wouldn’t betray you.”
“I want to go find him,” she said, pushing away. “He can explain this right fucking now.”
***
Stephen sat in his office all afternoon, thinking about Gillian’s unorthodox request. He couldn’t say he wasn’t tempted. She did have a hot little body. But sex therapy did not include intercourse between the patient and the therapist, and that was what she wanted.
He couldn’t deny her logic. How can her therapy team expect her to move on from her unhealthy obsession with Prince Anton if she doesn’t have any other experiences for comparison? At the same time, if he granted her request, her unhealthy obsession could transfer to him. Or even worse, he could lose his position for abuse of power.
Stephen moved over to the panel of monitors and flicked buttons until the woman occupying his mind came into view. His jaw dropped as he watched her lying flat on her bed with one hand on her exposed nipple and the other rubbing between her legs on the outside of her jumpsuit. He grew uncomfortably warm as his cock reacted to the woman masturbating in her prison cell for anyone walking by to see.
When she stood up and began sliding the jumpsuit down her body, he responded by undoing his pants and grasping his cock. Gillian lay back down on the bed and spread her legs wide as though she knew he was watching. Even on the minimal quality surveillance monitor, he could tell that her pussy lips were swollen and glistening with moisture.
Stephen licked his lips and slowly ran his hand up and down his cock. As her fingers teased her clit, his breathing increased along with the speed of his hand. When she shoved two fingers into her waiting hole, he gasped and clenched tighter. He was transfixed at the sight of her pleasuring herself. The only movements he made were the heavy rise and fall of his chest and his own hand wrapping around himself, emulating her warm pussy.
When her head flew back as she began to orgasm, he lost control. His seed filled his palm, and he nearly collapsed over the monitors. Undoubtedly, he knew he wouldn’t be able to have another session with her without remembering the way she looked while pleasuring herself.
Just as he was about to turn away and clean himself up, Stephen swore that Gillian looked at the security camera and winked.
***
From the moment she’d turned her eyes to his, Damian knew that he had her. Alondra Burkheart wanted him, and he was going to use that attraction to find out exactly what she was up to.
From a private viewing area behind the stage, he’d watched her enter the club, and he’d been impressed with her and her blasé attitude toward the atmosphere. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected—maybe a woman who looked less feminine, but anyone could tell she was all woman. The heavy makeup and big hair couldn’t hide her soft features and full lips. Damian knew that if he had met her eighteen months ago, he wouldn’t have hesitated to fuck her until she couldn’t walk. Since meeting Mellissandra, he had no desire leftover for any other woman, even the knockout walking with him now.
“This room is unoccupied,” Damian said huskily into her ear. He opened the door and led her inside.
He noted with approval that even though she was all made up, she didn’t stink of perfume. Her scent was clean and fresh, all her own. Damian closed the door behind him and went to work on seducing information out of her.
***
“Where would he have gone, Anton?” Mellissandra asked, walking up the narrow stairway.
“I don’t really know,” Anton told her. “Any of these rooms I suppose, but we can’t just go busting in to every room until we find him. Private rooms here are rented out at astronomical prices.”
“I don’t care if God himself is in one of these rooms,” Mellissandra said, turning to glare at Anton with fire in her eyes. “I want to find my fucking husband and that home wrecker he’s with.”
“Stop jumping to conclusions, Mellissandra,” Anton said with patience. “We don’t know what’s going on. I know there is a perfectly good explanation.”
“I’m not jumping to conclusions,” she told him. “If I find him with that woman in his arms, I will cheerfully rip every black hair from that dyed head of hers.”
At the top of the stairs, they looked down the long hallway. The walls of the corridor were deep red, and all the doors were painted black but one. The last door on the right was painted gold and had a nameplate that said Private on it.
“He’s got to be in that room,” Mellissandra said.
Before Anton could hold her back any further, she marched to the gold door. She knew there was a chance the door would be locked, but she hoped that since it was marked Private, Damian would feel secure enough not to bother.
She gave Anton one last look before flinging the door open. At the sight of her husband’s arms around the black-haired woman while his lips nibbled on her neck, Mellissandra’s heart shattered into a million tiny pieces that she was sure could never be glued back together.
With a screech, Mellissandra launched herself at Damian and the woman. Despite her bold words to Anton a few minutes before, it wasn’t the woman she went after. In her rage, Mellissandra knocked the woman over and began hitting Damian’s chest and head with her closed fists.
“How could you, Damian?” she screamed. “I believed you! I trusted you! How could you do this to me? Why did you bother to make up with me, only to go and find another woman the next day? How long has this been going on?”
***
Damian let her hit him, only blocking those that would accidentally do some real damage. He knew he wasn’t going to be able to easily explain this away, and it wouldn’t happen at all until they were alone. When Mellissandra finally seemed to be tiring, he grabbed her by the wrists and gently pushed her to Anton.
“Why the fuck did you bring her here?” he asked Anton in a low voice.
Mellissandra heard his question and seemed to get a second wind.
“I came here tonight to be with my husband,” she said harshly. “Since you were so caught up with work,” she sneered at him, “and couldn’t make it home for my surprise, I thought I’d bring it here to you. You wanted me to have a life outside of the babies.” Her face crumpled and tears flooded her eyes. “I guess you just didn’t want me to share yours. Now, I know why you never wanted to bring me to the club,” she said with a sob.
“Go home, Mellissandra,” Damian said in a rough voice. “We will discuss this later—privately.”
“You know, brother,” Anton said softly, “you are a heartless, stupid bastard, and that has nothing to do with the circumstances of your birth.”
Damian’s head snapped to Anton. “Don’t push me, Anton,” he said through clenched teeth. “If you hadn’t brought her here, none of this would have happened.”
“She was going to come here whether I brought her or not, Damian,” Anton said, taking a step forward. “I came with her to make sure she was safe until she found her way to you. I guess that makes one of us who cares for her well-being.”
“As if you wouldn’t take her away from me in a heartbeat,” Damian retorted. “We all know how you feel about my wife.” His anger was quickly taking over, and he could feel his control slipping away.
“My feelings have nothing to do with what you’re doing in this room right now, Damian,” Anton told him. “I’ll take your wife home, and for the second time in just a few days, I’ll be the one to comfort her.” He pulled a sobbing Mellissandra to his chest. “If you continue to push her at me, don’t blame anyone but yourself if I wrap my arms around her and keep her one of these days.”
Damian watched Anton attempt to lead Mellissandra out of the room, and when it appeared she didn’t have enough strength to move of her own accord, Anton swept her into his arms for a grand exit.
The pain echoing in Damian’s chest stemmed the tide of his ange
r as he realized he might have just ended his marriage.
***
Alondra watched the scene playing out in front of her with fascination. When the gorgeous man had closed the door and immediately pulled her into an embrace, her brain had shut off, and her hormones had taken over. Even when the enraged woman had begun pounding on the man, it didn’t immediately register that she was his wife. When it had finally clicked, Alondra was just as pissed off as the wife was.
After a few minutes of listening to the angry words being tossed around, Alondra had realized that this was more than just a husband fooling around. The gorgeous man was none other than the bastard prince himself, and the woman was his wife who was supposedly raising Gillian Portsmith’s children. That meant the other man in the room must have been Prince Anton.
The fact that the bastard prince had brought Alondra to this room to seduce her gave Gillian’s story that much more credibility. After all, what happily married man and father would screw around on his wife after such a short time? But if it had been all a farce, why had the princess been so angry? Tonight’s events just made Alondra more determined to get into that castle and find out the truth.
“Damn it!” the man muttered. “Damn it all to hell!”
“Sucks to be caught red-handed,” Alondra remarked.
He spun around to her with a glare. Alondra took a step back, but she refused to be intimidated by a pissed off prince who had just been found out.
“Were you ever going to tell me who you are, Prince Damian?”
***
“Yes, it sucks,” Damian agreed with her. He had to figure out a way to fix this situation fast. He would deal with Mellissandra later. Right now, he had to protect his entire family. “I’m not used to being a prince, so just Damian will be fine, love,” he said, adding a smooth tone to his voice.
“I don’t like being used, Damian,” Alondra said. “In fact, it makes me want to violently knee you in the balls.”