“Are you enjoying your evening, sir?” she asks.
“Yes, thank you.” Even though I’m wearing a mask, I wait for her to recognize me. I have reason to be cautious. I’m the Crown Prince of Androvia. The one who lives in a castle, the one with a different car for each day of the week, the one who dampens panties with a smile. My face graces hundreds of tabloids each year. Someday, my portrait will hang in the Hall of Kings next to seven generations of monarchs. If she knows who I am, she doesn’t let on, and the tension leaves my shoulders. “This is my first visit. Do you have any recommendations?”
“Are you looking for a companion or are you here to observe?” The brilliance of her smile increases as she gazes up at me.
“Observation only.” Although an anonymous fuck with one of these lovely women is tempting, I’m here to meet with Roman Menshikov, co-owner of this fine establishment.
“You’re in luck. This is a special night. All twelve of our custom playrooms are booked and available for your viewing pleasure.” She sweeps a hand toward the nearest exit. “Through those doors. Enjoy.”
A crowd swarms around the two-way glass of the first observation window. At six foot four, I can see over everyone’s heads and straight into the playroom. No expense has been spared to recreate the interior of a medieval dungeon. Stone walls and floors and crude wooden furniture provide the perfect backdrop for the fantasy. The crowd presses closer to see the couple inside. I press closer too. Never in my twenty-seven years have I seen anything this primal, so erotic—and believe me, I’ve seen a lot.
The woman twists away from her shackles, muscles taut with pleasure. Jesus, she’s stunning. Perky, bouncing breasts. Pale pink nipples. A waterfall of luxurious auburn hair cascades over her pale skin. Like everyone else in this place, a masquerade mask hides her face. She turns her head to the side, biting into her full lower lip with even white teeth. Her companion spanks a hand on her ass. His fingers leave red marks on the firm white flesh. A dizzying rush of blood evacuates my head and hastens to my dick.
“Can I help you with that?” The petite brunette at my elbow nods toward the erection tenting my tuxedo pants. Her invitation yanks me out of the spell cast by the scene. The whole point of this evening is to see and be seen. If I say yes, no one will care. On the sofa behind us, a man has his head buried beneath the hem of a voluptuous woman’s evening gown, one hand on his cock and the other on her bared breast.
“Not tonight.”
“Are you sure?” The brunette smiles up at me. Below her jeweled mask, full lips pout.
“Yes.” My gaze flits over her shoulder to the dungeon window. Her prom queen beauty pales in comparison to the goddess chained to the wall.
“Too bad. Your loss.” She smiles then disappears into the shadowy corners of the hallway.
The man next to me pushes closer to the observation window, transfixed by the exhibition of submission and dominance. “She’s perfection,” he mutters. I can’t agree with him more.
The couple on display is oblivious to the spectators. The woman pulls against her restraints, begging for discipline. Discipline I could give her. The need to punish and dominate is a smoldering ember in my subconscious, a hunger that no amount of vanilla sex has ever been able to satiate. I imagine the redhead’s groans of pleasure. Tiny whimpers of ecstasy escaping her pouty mouth. Her partner turns his head to the side, giving me a good view of his profile. Even with a disguise, I recognize the straight nose, square jaw, and perfect brown hair of my former college roommate. Wanker. I hate Nikolay Reznik, also known as Nicky Tarnovsky, for a hundred reasons. First, because he’s got something I want—this gorgeous redhead. And second, because the last time I saw him, he was balls deep in my fiancée.
EVERLY
Reeking of sex and shame and more exhilarated than I’ve been since my divorce, I wait for Nicky in the hallway. Nicky with his gray bedroom eyes, his hint of a Russian accent, and his large cock. The last place I ever intended to be was at a New York City sex club. Until he asked me. Until he whispered in my ear like Satan himself.
It’s been at least thirty minutes since he left me in the dungeon room to deal with a work emergency. More than enough time for him to reach his office and come back for me. I sigh and dig through my clutch for a compact mirror to recheck my lipstick. That’s the problem with dating one of the club owners. Business is always on the agenda. Although his absence is annoying, the extra minutes give me a chance to pull my head together. Minutes I need to clear the confusion caused by my first Devil’s Playground experience.
“Pretty dress,” a woman remarks as she passes by on the arm of a masked gentleman. The tail feathers of her mask jerk with each of her steps. She tilts her head toward her companion. “Isn’t she lovely, darling?”
“Yes. Exquisite,” her companion replies. He nods his head in acknowledgment. Like all the male guests, he wears a black tuxedo and mask.
“Thank you.” Heat crawls along my skin. Do they know what I just did in the room behind me? Did they watch? I’ve never been secretive about my sex life. In my opinion, it’s a natural and necessary part of life, one to be celebrated. The Devil’s Playground, however, is way outside the normal limits of my comfort zone. It’s a venue built for fantasies, the perfect place to escape the ugly reality of my life. Behind a mask and the protection of the club’s twenty-six-page NDA, I can be anyone I like. No paparazzi. No judgment. No names or faces.
I want to blame my uncharacteristic wildness on a string of disheartening events. A husband who loved his administrative assistant more than me. The revelation that he fathered a child with this woman during our marriage. His betrayal chipped away at my self-esteem until I no longer know who I am or what I stand for. Months after our separation and divorce, I still feel the cracks in my confidence.
“Can I get you anything, madam?” Achilles, one of the club hosts, pauses at my side. He’s the only person here, aside from my date, who knows my identity.
“No, thank you. I’m just waiting for my friend. He said to stay here, but he’s been gone forever. Have you seen him?” I’m careful to avoid using names, one of the numerous house rules.
“He’s been detained by a—customer.” The hesitation in his statement sends a chill of foreboding through my body. “Perhaps you’d be more comfortable in one of the lounges or the bar? I can have him meet you there.”
“That’s okay. I’ll be fine.”
“I insist.” He sweeps a hand to the left, encouraging me down the corridor in an unfamiliar direction. When I hesitate, his pleasant demeanor falters. “Please, madam. We need to clear this playroom for the next occupants. I’ll have a complimentary bottle of champagne brought to you for the inconvenience, and I’ll notify your date of your whereabouts.”
“Alright.” I turn in the direction of the large reception area, the same route Nicky used to bring me here.
“Not that way.” Achilles steps in front of me. “The other way.”
An ill foreboding snakes down my body. This isn’t the way I came in. Then again, maybe I’m being rerouted to protect the privacy of a famous client. I don’t want to make a scene over something trivial, so I nod and move in the direction of his hand.
He escorts me to the end of the corridor but doesn’t follow me further. A glance over my shoulder shows him standing in the center of the hall, arms crossed over his chest. I feel his gaze burn into my back until I reach the next junction. This time when I glance at him, he’s gone. I reverse directions, head down, determined to find Nicky, and run into the hard, muscular chest of a man who smells like expensive cologne. His broad shoulders block my path. Through the holes of our masks, our gazes collide. The muscles between my legs clench at the glimpse of blue-green irises and the whiskey-over-gravel sound of his haughty, British voice.
I hope you enjoyed this snippet of the next royal adventure. Pick up your copy of The Royal Arrangement today!
WHAT COMES NEXT?
Nicky’s story is on it’s way. I
t’s gonna set your ereader on fire!!
* * *
She stole my wallet, my car, and my favorite oil painting. I never expected her to steal my heart.
This complicated, beautiful, annoying woman doesn’t know that I’m a thief too. Only, I don’t steal things. I steal secrets and sometimes people. And her name is next on my list.
The problem? I admire her. Like her. Love her. So many wasted feelings because we aren’t meant to be. Years ago, I sold my soul and body to the devil. Now, my back is against the wall. If I want to save my precious niece from death, I’ll have to turn my sexy little thief over to my enemy.
She captivates me. Soothes me. Makes my life a living hell. And I love every minute of it.
I have no choice. I will be ruthless. And she will ruin me.
* * *
From USA Today bestselling author, Jeana E. Mann, comes a heart wrenching, suspenseful, tale of love, deception, and sacrifice.
* * *
Are you ready for Sir Nikolay Reznik Tarnovsky? He’s coming for YOU!
* * *
Don’t delay your pleasure. One-click this contemporary, billionaire, romantic suspense today!
THE RUTHLESS KNIGHT
* * *
**This is a standalone novel written in the worlds of The Exiled Prince Trilogy and The Rebel Queen Duet.
Copyright December 2018
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. To obtain permission to excerpt portions of the text, please contact the author at [email protected]
All characters and events in this book are fiction and figments of the author’s imagination. Any similarity to real persons, alive or deceased, is purely coincidental.
Created with Vellum
Also by Jeana E. Mann
THE RUTHLESS KNIGHT
* * *
THE REBEL QUEEN DUET
The Royal Arrangement
The Rebel Queen
* * *
THE EXILED PRINCE TRILOGY
The Exiled Prince
The Dirty Princess
The War King
* * *
PRETTY BROKEN SERIES
Pretty Broken Girl
Pretty Filthy Lies
Pretty Dirty Secrets
Pretty Wild Thing
Pretty Broken Promises
Pretty Broken Dreams
Pretty Broken Baby
Pretty Broken Hearts
Pretty Broken Bastard
* * *
FELONY ROMANCE SERIES
Intoxicated
Unexpected
Vindicated
Impulsive
Drift
Committed
* * *
STANDALONES
Monster Love
Dirty Work
* * *
SHORT STORIES
Everything
Linger
About the Author
Jeana is a USA Today and Publishers Weekly bestselling author from Indiana. She gave up a career in the corporate world to write about sexy billionaires and alpha bad boys. With over twenty books, three series, and many awards beneath her belt, she’s never regretted her choice to live out her dream. She’s a free spirit, a wanderer at heart, and loves animals with a passion. When she’s not tripping over random objects, you’ll find her walking in the sunshine with her rambunctious dogs and dreaming about true love. Subscribe to Jeana’s newsletter and get the inside scoop on new and upcoming releases, giveaways, and much more! CLICK HERE
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