The Exiled Prince Trilogy

by Jeana E. Mann

  The car will pick you up at nine-thirty. Bring the key. Don’t be late. Love, R.

  “Megalomaniac,” I muttered, smiling. I ran the tip of my tongue over my lips to relieve their dryness. Although I complained, his bossy, arrogant ways turned me on more than I cared to admit.

  My gaze snapped to the large, antique skeleton key centered on my pillow. It was the length of my hand and heavy. The tails of a blood red ribbon wove through the ring at the top. Roman Menshikov, what are you up to? With no other clues available, I tossed the key and note to the bed and headed to the bathroom for a long, steamy soak in the tub. Afterward, I found boxes of increasing sizes on the center island of my dressing room. A card sat on top of a smaller black velvet box. For my princess. My smile grew wider. Beneath the lid, a tiny, jewel-encrusted tiara hung at the end of a long, delicate chain. I traced a fingertip over the diamonds and sapphires, admiring the craftsmanship. He certainly knew how to spoil a girl. After snapping the lid shut, I dove into the second box. Silver stilettos, sky-high and expensive, stared back at me. I lifted one of the shoes into the air to study the intricate, crystal-lined straps.

  Another note sat on top of the contents in final box. Wear this and nothing else. Layers of tissue paper concealed a floor-length red gown. The silky fabric whispered over my breasts and thighs as I stepped into it and pulled the spaghetti straps over my shoulders. My reflection in the mirror brought a blush to my face. The neckline plunged to below my navel, hitting just above my pubic bone and making it impossible to wear a bra. A long side slit ran from the floor to my hip, revealing the waistband of my thong panties. Usually, I preferred classic clothing, sexy but not revealing. In this dress, a strong breeze might reveal my girly parts to anyone standing nearby.

  Roman’s ringtone broke the silence. I pressed the speaker button on my phone. His rich voice rumbled through the room, stirring butterflies in my stomach. “Do you like your gifts?”

  I smoothed a hand over the red silk. “Yes. It’s beautiful, but—” I bit my lower lip, not wanting to offend him with my misgivings.

  “Is something wrong?”

  “No, it’s just more revealing than I’m used to.”

  His laughter intensified my embarrassment. “You’re going to a sex club, Rourke. There’s no such thing as too revealing.”

  “True.” I exhaled the breath I’d been holding, my imagination taking flight, picturing naked men and women writhing on velvet couches.

  “You look beautiful,” he said, and a new thrill ran through me. “Put the shoes on.”

  “Are you watching me?” I glanced up at the ceiling.

  “Yes.”

  One word sent my pulse into overdrive. I’d seen Ivan’s surveillance room on the lower level of the penthouse. There were security cameras throughout the rooms, but I’d never actually thought about them. Then again, my husband was a voyeur. Why had I expected anything less? Dismay and titillation warred within me. I rolled my lips together, processing this new information. How long had he been watching? Could anyone else see me?

  “Don’t worry, princess. There are no cameras in the bathrooms. No one has access to the surveillance in our bedroom or the dressing room but me. This particular camera is to watch the safe in the wall behind you.”

  “I wish you had told me.” I sat down on the white leather bench to put on the shoes. The extent of his control sucked the air from the room. My lungs struggled against the constriction of my ribcage.

  “About the safe?”

  “No, the camera.” I twisted around, searching for him and finally spotted a blinking red light in the chandelier overhead. “You don’t—record us—having sex, do you?”

  “No. Of course not. Although, now that you mention it, it might be exciting.” His voice dropped even lower, making my heart skip a beat. “But never without your permission.”

  The extent of his domination itched against my skin like rough wool. I scowled into the camera. We were walking a fine line. Part of me wanted to comply with his every order. The other, more rebellious part wanted to test his boundaries and exercise independence. “You’re pissing me off again.”

  “Come on. You like being watched. Admit it.” Humor tinged his deep baritone. “That’s what tonight is all about. Watching and being watched. Don’t you want to play?”

  What was wrong with me? My emotions were all over the place. One minute, I hated his domination and the next, I craved more. He loved this game, and I loved turning him on. If this was what it took to secure his attention, I was all for it. I needed to relax and enjoy this opportunity to know him better. Despite my protestations, the thought of being watched by him made my panties dampen. I answered in a breathy whisper. “Yes. I want to play.”

  “Good girl.” His exhale gusted against the phone. “Now back to business. You didn’t follow my instructions.”

  “What do you mean?” I took another look at myself in the mirror. Red dress. Silver heels. The long necklace dangled between my breasts.

  “I said to wear only what was in the boxes.”

  It took a second for me to understand his meaning. “Oh.”

  “Take them off.” His request tightened the walls of my throat until I couldn’t swallow.

  “Right now?”

  “Yes.” Although I’d thought it impossible, his voice became even deeper. “Do it.”

  After a slight hesitation, I hooked my thumbs in the straps of the thong and lowered it to the floor. “Okay.”

  “Show me.” His voice broke on the two words. I loved it when he was domineering in the bedroom, almost as much as he did.

  I moved one of the long slits to the side, baring my sex. Cool air brushed over my waxed skin. “Satisfied?”

  His groan rekindled the ache between my thighs. “No. Seeing you like this—not being able to touch you—it’s killing me.”

  “Come home.” To tease him further, I cupped my breasts, thumbing the nipples until they stiffened against the filmy fabric, and smiled at his sharp hiss.

  “God, what you do to me.” He cleared his throat. “I can’t wait to see you tonight. You have no idea what I have planned for us.”

  8

  Rourke

  An hour later, the limousine pulled into an alley on an unfamiliar, scary part of the city. Security cameras stared down at me from the roof of an enormous warehouse. There was no sign on the building, no street number, no outward markings of any kind. One solitary lamp cast a yellow pool of light on the pavement in front of the nondescript steel door. The driver shifted the car into park. His eyes met mine in the rearview mirror. “We’re here, madam.”

  My stomach quivered. I curled my fingers into fists before exhaling a long, cleansing breath. “Um, are you sure?” I’d imagined a mansion with manicured lawns and valet parking, not this unremarkable and somewhat intimidating building.

  “Yes, madam.” A slight smile quirked his lips. My uncertainty must have shown on my face, because his expression softened. “It’s perfectly safe. I’ll wait here until you go inside. Just press the buzzer beside the door. Someone will greet you.”

  I had no idea where we were, but the dark alley looked neither safe nor inviting. Where were the other cars? The other people? Swallowing back my nerves, I gave him a reassuring nod. “Okay. Thank you.”

  He opened the passenger door and swept a hand toward the entrance. I pressed the doorbell, noting the security camera above my head. My throat burned, its dryness heightened by my nervousness. Seconds later, a buzzer rang, locks clicked, and the door opened to reveal a long, black hallway. I cast a glance over my shoulder to the driver. He nodded reassuringly. When I returned my gaze to the hallway, a man stood inside. He was medium height with a blond crew-cut, dressed in a black tuxedo, a simple black mask obscuring his eyes.

  “Mrs. Menshikov. Good evening. Welcome to the Devil’s Playground NYC. I’m Achilles, and I’ll be your host for the night.” A red silk mask dangled from his index finger. The color and fabric exactly matched my
dress. “You’ll need to put this on. Anonymity is mandatory for the privacy and safety of all members. While you’re in the viewing areas and playrooms, we request that you refrain from revealing your identity to anyone or discussing the identities of those around you.” He stood patiently to one side while I slipped the mask over my eyes and adjusted the strap beneath my hair. When I finished, he nodded and offered his elbow. “Your husband is engaged with a client. He asks that you start without him.”

  “Okay. Thank you.” I had no idea what that meant but decided to let the night unfold in front of me. If I wanted to test my boundaries and cultivate a greater understanding of Roman’s love for this place, I needed to keep an open mind. “Is he going to be long?”

  “Not long.” He opened a door and swept an arm to his left, inviting me to move ahead of him.

  We proceeded through a maze of hallways and closed doors before passing into a large reception area, an exact replica of the great room in the castle keep at Roman’s London estate. Gold velvet couches, dark woods, and expensive art lined the perimeter. A small crowd milled about the room, wearing red, white, or black masks. Men in formal attire. Women in cocktail dresses and gowns. Their excited chatter hummed through the air. Upon our entrance, all eyes turned to me. I resisted the urge to adjust my gown, uncomfortably aware of my nakedness beneath the thin fabric.

  “This is not what I expected,” I said, fighting to keep my heartrate at a normal pace.

  “It’s quite amazing, isn’t it?” He paused to gaze up at the three identical, enormous chandeliers suspended from a vaulted ceiling. “As the wife of a founding member, you have complimentary access to all of the clubs.”

  “How many are there?” My voice cracked on the question.

  “There are seven locations throughout the world. Each one has its own distinct personality and is designed to cater to the culture of its city.” He clasped his hands behind his back and surveilled the group. “Mr. Menshikov wanted this particular branch to resemble the Devil’s Keep at his London estate. I think he did a great job, don’t you?”

  “Yes.” I pressed my palms together. The air smelled of excitement and decadence, characteristics I’d come to associate with my husband. Everywhere I looked, I saw small touches of his personality, from the framed oil paintings to the sculptures.

  “Please feel free to explore the room. The bar is at the end and to your left. Tonight is ladies’ night. Selection begins promptly in ten minutes.”

  “I’m sorry—what is that?” My voice sounded husky and unfamiliar.

  He watched me without judgment. “When the gong rings, the women will be given fifteen minutes to choose a partner for the evening’s activities.”

  Surely Roman didn’t intend for me to have sex with a stranger. Or did he? Maybe it was part of his plan, to watch me with someone else. Could I do that? I considered myself to be sexually liberated. Before Roman, I’d indulged in anonymous hookups, but I took my marriage vows seriously.

  “Once she’s decided on a man or woman, she’ll proceed to her predesignated chamber and begin the fantasy. Do you have your key?” I withdrew the ribbon with its ornate key and traced the outline of double zeroes with my thumb. “The number on the key corresponds with the chamber number. You, of course, have a master key that allows entry to all the rooms.”

  “Thanks,” I croaked. “Have you worked here long?”

  “I’m the most senior employee here,” he said, pride seeping into his impassive façade. “Your husband let me work here while I went to college and gave me this job when I graduated. He’s a great man.”

  “Yes, I know.” His words brought a lump to my throat. Despite Roman’s mysterious and often high-handed ways, he had a heart of gold.

  “Is there anything else I can help you with?” Unable to speak, I shook my head. He took my hand and squeezed it between his large, warm palms. “It’s an honor to have you here tonight, Mrs. Menshikov. If there’s nothing else, I’ll leave you to enjoy your evening.” After a slight bow, he disappeared through a panel in the wall, leaving me alone in a room full of strangers. Soothing classical music floated through the air from a five-piece orchestra near the fireplace. Several of the men eyed me, their gazes lingering on the deep V of my dress, their smiles hopeful. The gentlemen varied in ages and sizes; tall, short, stocky, athletic. The women gave me reassuring smiles. I was relieved to find them exceedingly normal in appearance and not the cover models I’d been expecting.

  Was I supposed to participate? Did Roman want to see some girl-on-girl action? I’d never been with another female or three people of any combination. Could I do it, or was this a hard limit for me? I walked quietly around the room with halting steps, trying to figure out what I should do.

  “Do you need assistance?” A blond man with a goatee bent to speak in my ear. His smile, his mannerisms, and posh British accent seemed familiar. A movie star, perhaps, or a government official? He was beyond handsome, with chiseled features and dimples bracketing a full mouth.

  “No. I’m fine, thank you.” I tried to move past him, but he paced at my side.

  “First time?”

  “Yes.”

  “You look scared to death. Don’t be. Everyone here is quite nice.”

  Over his shoulder, I spied a familiar dark figure in the shadows. My heart skipped a beat as I recognized the square jaw below the black silk mask. Although I couldn’t see Roman’s eyes, I felt him watching me. His gaze burned into my skin, tightening my nipples and stealing away my breath.

  “Thank you, but I’m fine. I’m meeting someone here.” I worried the red ribbon between my fingers, they gold key swaying below it.

  “Of course. You’re dipped in red.” The stranger’s gaze slid over my dress before returning to my mask. “Someone has certainly put his mark on you.” He took a step back, putting distance between us. “Please forgive me. It’s just that you seemed a bit lost, and I remember how I felt my first time. This place can be overwhelming.”

  “That might be the understatement of the day,” I muttered. His deep laugh turned heads in our direction.

  “Well, I hope you enjoy your evening.” With a formal bow, he retreated to the opposite side of the room.

  I headed toward my husband, still lurking in the corner. He was dressed in head-to-toe black, from his tuxedo to the details of shirt and tie. A thrill ran up my spine. In the shadows, he seemed more dangerous than ever. I quickened my pace, eager to reach him before someone else approached me. As I crossed the room, the crowd parted, giving me a wide berth. The skirt of my dress swirled in the breeze. Cool air brushed over my thighs and breasts.

  “Roman,” I said when I was a few paces away.

  His brows lowered, and he shook his head. “No names, princess.”

  “Sorry.” I placed a hand on my belly to calm the butterflies. “What took you so long?”

  “Didn’t Achilles treat you well?” His brows lowered.

  “Yes, but I wish you’d prepared me a little more.”

  Behind his black satin mask, his eyes glittered. “That would take all the fun out of it.” He shifted his stance to close the gap between us. A flash of silver caught my gaze. Handcuffs dangled from the waistband of his trousers.

  “What are those for? Are you expecting a crime spree?”

  When he spoke, his gravelly tone made the space between my legs ache. I pressed my thighs together. He dragged a fingertip along the side of my cheek. “They’re for you.” I’d never been restrained during sex before, but my mouth went dry at the idea. The good kind of dry. “In case you need a little discipline.” The tip of his nose ghosted along my neck, but he hadn’t touched me anywhere else. My body hummed with excitement.

  “I don’t understand why you wanted me here for the selection process. Did you want me to have sex with someone else? I’m not comfortable with that.” I shivered at the heat of his breath below my ear. “I took a vow to be faithful to you, and I expect you to do the same.”

  “Abs
olutely not. The thought of watching you with anyone else makes me crazy. You’re my one and only, Cinderella.” With the pad of his thumb, he traced the curve of my lower lip. Blood rushed into the wake of his touch. “Tonight, I want you to dip your toe in the waters, to see what the Devil’s Playground means to its members. If you want to play, we can do that. But no one touches you, no one but me.”

  Roman took the key from my hand before threading his fingers through mine. Couples began filing from the room in pairs into a long, dark hallway. The soothing orchestral music faded away once the heavy door closed behind us. The grinding thump and bass of techno music blared from unseen speakers. Small LED lights illuminated the path. A leather sofa faced mirrored windows at even lengths along the hall. One by one, the couples disappeared into their rooms. Some claimed seats on the sofas outside. Roman halted a few paces away.

  “Is something wrong?” I asked.

  “Not at all. Are you ready?” The question ignited explosions of illicit excitement beneath my skin. Everything about this seemed dirty and sinful, but I wanted to know more, craved it. I nodded. I had to see what he’d experienced. “Alright then. Here we go.”

  With his free hand, he pressed a round switch. The mirrored windows shimmered and transformed to clear glass. Each illuminated room held a different scene. The first window overlooked a regular living room, plain sofa, a television, reminiscent of a fifties home. Inside, a man had the woman bent over the back of the couch. After a few seconds, we moved to the next room. The scenes varied as we explored the length of the corridor. A garage with a woman splayed on the hood of a car. Two women writhing on a kitchen floor while a pair of men stroked their hair and thighs. The realism and detail of each scenario had me gasping. No wonder the membership fees were astronomical.

  A crowd of couples surrounded the final room. Their murmurs of approval rose above the piped-in music. I squirmed to locate the source of the commotion, ducking and lifting on tiptoe to peer around the wide girth of the man before me. The only things I could see were gray block walls and a series of metal rings mounted to the concrete.