Bone: A Dark Billionaire Romance (With bonus book Exhibit!)

by Noir, Stella

  Maybe.

  My throat is dry and I can still feel the effects of that MDMA fucking with my head. I like it. I don’t think I would have left that bar had it not been for the drugs, and I definitely wouldn’t have got in the car if I wasn’t a little high. Where was I going before he picked me up? That’s a damn good question that I definitely don’t know the answer to.

  Where are we going now? Kings. This goddamn, invented place that everyone seems to be talking about, at the back of a Chinese restaurant on the upper east side. I think this is the upper east side at least. We’re still in Manhattan, that’s one good thing.

  At least for now, he’s not going to ass fuck me in an alleyway in Harlem while he presses a knife up against my throat and dump my bruised and broken body in a field somewhere to be found, half rotten, by a vagrant ten days from now.

  Actually, the ass fucking part sounds pretty good if I’m honest with myself. It’s been a long fucking time. Everything feels good about this, apart from the slim possibility of being raped and left to die.

  Bain. Bain fucking Power. This guy’s got day trader written all over his too-young-to-be-this-rich face. He’s hot, fit, well maintained, groomed to perfection, Grandma’s favorite, that’s for sure. What’s his secret?

  When we get out of the car, he hurries around to my side to lift me out and then takes my arm like a fucking gentleman, to lead me carefully around the slushy snow and on towards the Chinese restaurant. My doom, my destiny, my future.

  I have no idea what to expect. The place looks like a million other Chinese restaurants from the front. They must get all of this shit from a catalogue, because every one I’ve ever seen looks exactly the same. The guy selling these gold waving cats must be making a fortune. Bain lets me take the lead and once inside, I have no idea what to do. A few people look up over their noodles and soup, but nobody does anything more. Nobody greets us and nobody comes over.

  Bain takes my hand and together we walk towards the kitchens at the back. After that first time, no-one looks up again at us as we cross the restaurant floor. The place is full of Asians in suits around circular tables, silently struggling their way through dinner. We push our way through the swing doors to the kitchen, where one of the chefs glances over and gives a kind of nod and jabbing, index finger point to a corridor behind him, which we find leads us to an elevator at the back.

  At the elevator, we look for a button, but there isn’t one. The whole thing looks like it’s recently been built into the wall.

  “This it?” I ask.

  “I guess so”, Bain says, observing the metal slide door closely.

  No-one comes to our aid. To the side of the elevator is a camera, and below that a card slot. I put my hand in it just to feel around. I do that sometimes without thinking, put my hands on something just to feel the shape of it. Try and work out how it works. I wonder if that’s what I’m doing with Bain.

  “You got a card?” I ask.

  Bain takes out a silver card holder from his inside pocket and a jet black metal credit card shaped sliver of pure perfection from inside that. “I guess this is the key”, he says. Inside I can see a gold K floating like a trapped bubble in a cross section of the earth.

  He puts the card in the slot, and a moment later the elevator doors open. We look at each other with barely concealed excitement. I have never done anything like this before in my life.

  “Welcome to the rabbit hole”, I say and step inside.

  The elevator has red velvet carpeting all over it. It’s like being inside a giant fez hat. There are no numbers either, nothing at all that indicates where, in which direction or for how long we might be going. When we are both inside, the doors close quickly and the lift begins to descend without a sound. I only know it’s going down because of the movement and vibration I feel inside me. It appears there is only one destination and it’s taking us there whether we like it or not, or only one destination that Bain and I are destined for.

  “What’s it going to be like?” I say, holding tightly onto him.

  “Wild”, Bain says, his eyes lighting up. “Fucking wild, I hope.”

  Is this the beginning of the end? Am I being tricked into a very rich, very creative murderers basement underneath a Chinese restaurant in the upper east side? Is that why nobody gave us a second look? Is Bain a regular here and this is something he does all the time? Am I going to die?

  We are in the elevator for maybe fifteen seconds before it comes to a stop. A moment later, the doors rocket open.

  ‘Fuck’, I say, and tighten my grip around Bain’s hand.

  Bain

  She sees it before me and then I realize when I see it why she’s got all clingy all of a sudden. I hold on to her and practically drag her towards them, unable to resist it. A fucking pair of lions just sat there at the entrance to the gates of hell.

  “What the fuck?” Violet says.

  One of them pads quickly across the floor towards her and she can do nothing but freeze with panic, unable to avoid it. Eventually, when it’s felt like it’s investigated her enough, it sits back down on its haunches, yawns just to let us see its teeth, and looks up to the maître d lazily.

  Two fully grown adult lions. I can hardly believe it. I’d heard this place had surprises, but to tell you the truth, I wasn’t expecting that. Violet looks frozen solid.

  “Don’t worry”, the maître d says, unimpressed by her lack of resolve. “They won’t bite. Not unless they have reason to.”

  Violet doesn’t look convinced at all. Her hands are trembling and she’s still clinging onto me for dear life.

  “We don’t like trouble makers you see”, he says coldly. “We literally throw them to the lions.”

  “Right”, I say. “You’ve got a pit for that as well I expect.”

  “Yes”, the maître d says, without even a hint of irony. “Your card”, he continues.

  I hand it over, he does something with it on the computer and then hands it back. The lions lick lazily at their lips, fat tongues long enough to almost reach their eyes.

  “When did they last feed?” I ask.

  The maître d smiles. “An hour ago”, he says, and I refrain from asking on what?

  “Welcome to Kings, Bain Power”, he says. “May I ask who is accompanying you tonight? I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of entertaining either of you before.”

  “Violet Buchanan”, Violet says.

  “Charmed”, the maître d says, with a multimillion dollar, shit-eating grin.

  “Feel free to explore all of Kings’ delights”, he goes on. “I can see by your credit level that you are well within range for an evening of fun. Your card will be charged upon exit.”

  “Thank you.”

  As we pass the lions on the way through a network of curtains that form a barrier between the entrance hallway and the world beyond, I run my hand through one of their manes, just to feel the power of the muscles across their shoulders.

  The maître d smiles at me as I do so, with a look that tells me he would be happy for me to be their next meal given the slightest opportunity.

  After that, we are in, and immediately the lights, sounds, smells and chaos of a party in full swing hit us completely. Actually, it feels more like a secret city in full swing than just a party.

  The place has the buzz of a Moroccan market, just with less people hassling you at every corner into buying something. Less people in general actually, because there seem to be more people doing shows than there are watching them.

  Champagne and canapes come round to us on silver trays, while performers cycle through their acts while they buzz around us, close enough to touch. There are pole dancers, belly dancers, tap and tango dancers, jugglers, clowns, tightrope walkers, people setting themselves on fire, people eating fire, everything you can fucking imagine. Violet has her eyes out on stalks, as she ducks under an acrobat, side steps a stilt walker and makes way for a seven foot woman dressed in nothing but a spiked cat collar, d
ragging a man behind her who has been locked up in several tightly bound manacles.

  All of this takes place in the main room, off of which seem to be several closed doors painted in different colors. We try one but it seems to be locked. In a separate section in front of us, a restaurant has been set up and people are eating and drinking.

  We walk around, sometimes hand in hand, sometimes not. Violet is pretty much speechless, either that or she’s run out of things to say already. I watch her knock back champagne like it’s water, her eyes almost falling out of her head when she sees someone swallow a sword and then spit out streams of flames like they’ve swallowed the sun. I must admit I’m impressed too. The champagne is good, the service is excellent, the girls are hot, and the fire is real. I want to eat, and then I want to see what’s behind the colored doors.

  “Violet”, I say and she turns away from the snake charmer to look at me.

  I’m pointing at a tiger, walking through the crowd as though it were a domestic cat.

  “Fuck sake”, Violet says, and makes sure she gets out of the way. A few others are surprised by the appearance of such a monstrous beast, but everyone else just sees it as part of the fun. Perhaps they’ve been here so long, something like this is just normal now.

  The cat walks past us, between where Violet and I are standing, and just carries on with its business as usual, not paying any of us much attention.

  I see someone walking behind it, maybe by ten paces, and then I see something electronic, like some kind of remote control in his hands. A closer inspection of the beast shows something connected to a belt around its hind leg. The fucker is hooked up and behavior controlled.

  Violet turns to me. “What the fuck is this place? What are the doors for?”

  “Treats”, someone close by says. A smile creeps across his face, as though he’s letting us into a closely guarded secret he can’t keep in any longer.

  “Go on”, I say.

  He steps closer to us, but side on, as though taking up the first position to a dance, and lowers his voice to a whisper.

  “Each time it’s different. They change it every time”, he says. “And we’re not allowed to say. Part of the Kings’ rules, I’m afraid. I’m surprised they didn’t tell you on the way in. I can recommend Orange”, he looks us up and down, “for both of you.”

  After that he’s gone, melted back into the crowd he came from.

  “You want to look?”

  Of course you want to look. You wouldn’t have come down here in the first place if you didn’t want to look. Open up Pandora’s box, Violet. Show me the heart of darkness. Cure mine.

  “I’m starving. Let’s go to eat first, get to know each other a little bit. After that, we can do whatever you want.”

  Violet

  This is a fucking madhouse. Lions and tigers, acrobats, crazy rich weirdos everywhere. Jesus Christ. Vicki would shit bricks if she knew where I was. How the other half live.

  I nearly had a heart attack when I saw the lions at the entrance, ready to pounce on me. I thought that was it, for sure.

  This is unbelievable this place. No more than ten seconds inside, and I’ve already got a glass of the best champagne I’ve ever drunk, and more canapes than I’ll ever need. Maybe Bain has seen all of this shit before, which is why he seems to be watching me much more closely than the stuff going on around us, but I never have and, holy shit, this stuff is unbelievable.

  It’s like a circus, like the whole thing is a circus and we’re closer to everything than anyone should ever be for their own safety. It’s like being in a thousand children’s books that have just come to life or discovering a fantasy world that you never knew existed. For a place that has a Chinese restaurant and the whole of Manhattan above it, they’ve somehow managed to fit in a spectacular guitar shaped hall with a domed ceiling some sixty foot above us, more animals than Brooklyn Zoo, trees that are actually growing out of the ground, and God knows how many rooms behind color coded entrance doors.

  Up there, in that dome above us, trapeze artists are walking across tight ropes and then swinging across the huge space like monkeys. I kid you not, I’ve just watched a man walk through hot coals, another do a handstand on a bed of nails, and a magician cut someone in half.

  There is a tank with rare fish in it, including what someone said was a great white shark, cars, motorbikes and hoverboard scooters, hidden rooms with mystery treats inside them and a banquet of God knows what the fuck else. I want to see it all. It’s like being at an exclusive party, but there are so few other people here, it’s like your own exclusive party, that no one else need turn up to. I want to call Vicki, and try to, but there is no reception down here. We could be a thousand metres underground for all I know.

  We walk together into the top part of the eight, where they have tables and waiters, silver service, ice sculptures, a huge grand piano and a stage with music. The performer I am absolutely convinced is none other than Prince himself.

  “Fuck Bain, do you know who that is?” I say, but Bain’s already gone ahead and after spinning round a couple of times, I see him sat down at a table waving over at me to go and join him.

  “What do you think?” he says, when I eventually sit down with him. There is so much to see, I can hardly contain myself. Prince is so fucking close I can almost touch him.

  “I feel a little better now if you do plan to kill me. At least I can go out happy, knowing I’ve seen something I thought I’d never see it my life.”

  “How would you like that to happen?” he asks plainly, eyes cold but lips twisted into a kind of mischievous smile.

  “Later, if it has to happen at all”, I joke, wishing I’d never said anything at all. “I’m enjoying myself.”

  “Good”, Bain says, relaxing back into the chair and interlocking his fingers together. “You looked like you needed it.”

  “Perhaps”, I say, evasively. He’s totally right though.

  “Think of it as a Christmas present.”

  “I don’t have anything I can give you in return.”

  “We can talk about that later”, Bain says.

  “After you’ve killed me?”

  “I was hoping before”, Bain says, his eyes lighting up.

  This feels like a date. A weird reality TV show date where I get to hook up with a millionaire. A young, sexy, athletic, bad boy, dark eyed, secrets in the closet millionaire.

  “You’re dangerous”, I say, pointing a fork accusingly at him.

  Bain opens out his hands passively.

  “Dangerous how?” he says.

  I count them off on my fingers.

  “You’re rich, you’re attractive, you’re charming. You know all the best places to go out.”

  Bain takes a moment to answer, chewing over the possibilities of how best to respond. I know I’m flirting with him, but I don’t care. I purse my lips in the way I’ve been told looks sexy. I fiddle with my hair, the ring on my thumb.

  “I never said I was charming”, he says.

  “Perhaps not as charming as some.”

  Bain looks away for a moment. When he looks back, he folds his arms across his chest and the look he gives me is so panty melting I can’t hold it for too long before I giggle nervously just to break the tension.

  “And you? Just as dangerous.”

  Those eyes are incredible. I hadn’t noticed them until now, because too much other shit has been going on, but wow. Dark brown, almost black around the edges, like the card he used to get in here, and then explosive in the centre like the pool of lava at the bottom of a volcano.

  “How am I dangerous?” I ask, silently loving the fact that someone thinks I am.

  “You’re unpredictable. And for someone like me, someone who makes a living out of patterns of predictability, you represent a very high risk.”

  “Something about you tells me you like high risk.”

  “I like high reward”, Bain says.

  “The higher the risk, the higher the rewa
rd”, I say. “Isn’t that what they always say?”

  “Maybe”, Bain says, catching my leg that’s been rubbing against his and running his fingers up towards the back of my knee. “What’s your favorite color”, he asks.

  “Red”, I say, licking my lips.

  He reaches in between my legs, grabs the chair and drags me effortlessly towards him. This is a demonstration of ownership. Bain is laying a claim on me and it’s having the desired effect. He’s making my pussy fizz with anticipation.

  “You want to kiss me?” I ask, leaning towards him, so if he wanted to, he wouldn’t even have to move his head to do so.

  “I want to eat you”, he says.

  I bite my lip. I run my hands down the front of my jeans and arch my back up like a cat. I could lower myself onto him right now and be happy. “I told you you were dangerous”, I say, ready to move into him. Ready to have him move into me.

  “A lion can’t help but be the king of the jungle.”

  “Is that what you are?” I ask.

  “You know that’s what I am”, he says, his words barely a whisper. “I don’t need to tell you that.”

  Without breaking eye contact, he shifts his body closer to mine. Seamlessly, he places his leg between mine and in response, I move my hand to his thigh, inches away from his throbbing cock. I can feel the heat of his breath on my lips, and when he leans in to press them against mine, I turn away, playfully, presenting him the softness of my neck instead.

  He kisses me there and then bites me too, perhaps as a punishment, and eventually I have to pull away because the sensation makes me squirm. I reach up and touch the area he has bitten, my fingers wet with his saliva. I’m a little surprised, but I like it. I laugh and push him away.

  “Are you hungry?” I ask.

  “I can eat.”

  I let the moment melt away between us, happy to have it under my control, and Bain sinks back into his seat, to watch me like a wolf might an already trapped animal.

  I take the opportunity to shift the thrust of the interaction and motion to a passing waiter. Before he comes to the table, Bain says, “You’re getting used to this already.”