I clear my throat, preparing to move this conversation along. “How long before we get what we need?”
“Senator Baker has committed to the annual VIP membership at our exclusive Los Angeles location. He’s already made a reservation for our Pitch Black room,” Matthieu replies.
My eyebrows feel like they’ve hit my hairline at this information. “As in the Pitch Black room?”
He nods, “The very same. It seems our Senator has unique tastes. I’m actually surprised he wasn’t a member already-his requests for special additions to what the room already includes had R’chelle asking for approval.”
My heart rate kicks up. I wouldn’t be surprised if Matthieu could see the veins in my neck pulsating.
This is precisely what we were hoping for.
“Has he already confirmed his guest?” I probe.
No one can enter any of Le Toucher’s locations without being thoroughly vetted. They must also provide some form of leverage-a secret no one can know. It helps prevent anyone from releasing details about what happens behind the doors of any of Matthieu’s clubs.
What guests aren’t aware of is that every location is monitored. Each playroom is outfitted with cameras-an extra level of insurance, if you will. It’s part of the contract they sign-it’s just written in invisible ink that doesn’t appear until a black light or other UV source is applied.
“Guests,” he corrects, and I arch a brow, signaling him to continue. “The Senator will have two women and three men in attendance.”
Interesting.
“Making it a party then?”
He huffs a laugh. “Of sorts.”
“Well, don’t keep me waiting. Who will be celebrating with our dear senator?”
“The president’s daughter.” His jaw clenches at the mention of Isabella, but he continues, “Two other members of the senate,
Samantha Davenport.” My lips curl into a smirk once he says her name. “And Brian Porter.”
“And the surprises just keep coming, don’t they?” I offer at the mention of Brian’s name. “Who’ll be in charge of the room?”
In order to help play out a member’s fantasy, a room attendant is present, either participating or facilitating.
“The Senator has requested two attendants, Am?lie and Henri.”
They really are going for the full experience.
Am?lie and Henri are two of the most sadistic attendants. Only guests who want to explore their darkest sides-the ones they hide from respectable society-ask for them. I’ve only heard of one instance where both were requested, which ended up with bodies Matthieu had to dispose of.
“What nights has he requested? We’re eager to get out from under Senator Baker’s thumb,” I confess.
Matthieu turns to his computer, shaking the mouse to bring his monitor to life. Angling the screen in my direction, he says, “Saturday, October 14th. They’ve reserved the entire club for the night. They’re playing some twisted game of Capture the Flag.”
“With Am?lie and Henri involved, I’m sure twisted is not the right word,” I quip, making him chuckle.
My phone buzzes, garnering my attention. I hold up my finger, signaling for him to wait as I pull it from my breast pocket.
Parasite: What are you doing at a sex club, Sebastian?
Parasite: You wouldn’t want me to push a little button and eliminate Karl from this life, would you?
I growl at the sight of her threats.
“Samantha?” Matthieu guesses.
“The one and only leech,” I mutter, sliding my phone back into my suit pocket. “Another reason why we want to move things along. She’s getting increasingly demanding. Constant threats toward people I love. To put it simply, she must go.”
He rubs at his newly grown beard. “I could just have her killed. Why go to these lengths?”
I wish it were that simple. I’d have killed her months ago.
“Unfortunately, she holds the power at this time.”
His eyes narrow in confusion. “Explain.”
“When Karl was taken, a chip was implanted in his arm, and Samantha has the device controlling it,” I explain.
Matthieu grimaces, “I see now why it’s so important you get the information you need.”
My cellphone vibrates again. The steady hum lets me know it’s a call this time and not a text. Matthieu nods his head when I request another moment.
Pulling the device from my pocket, I see that Samantha is now calling me. I hit ignore, but the phone rings almost immediately after I rejected her call.
Annoyed, I answer, “What the fuck do you want?”
She tsks. “Is that any way to treat your fianc?e?” Her voice grates my nerves.
“In title alone because, like Vivian, you just don’t know when to let go. With any luck, you’ll meet the same fate. So, I’ll ask you again, what the fuck do you want,
Samantha?”
“Fine, get your ass back here. We have a meeting with the wedding planner, and you all need to be in attendance,” she demands.
I snort. “We haven’t been involved with planning any part of this sham, and I’m busy at the moment.”
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.