Prologue
Zoey Parker’s limbs felt heavy as she tried to open her eyes. When they finally cooperated, she jolted upright. She was on a bed she didn’t recognize. Her dress was ripped, her breasts exposed. Between her legs, her underwear was gone. She frantically scanned the sheets, searching for signs that her virginity was still intact. She didn’t find blood on the bed or between her thighs.
A rush of heat stormed over her as her stomach flipped and skin crawled. Needing to rid herself of it all, she ran to the trash can in the corner of the room and threw up twice. After she emptied her stomach, she gulped down shallow breaths to stay calm. A quick survey of the room, and she found a sweater lying in a heap. She threw it on and was out the door a second later. The scent of beer hit her nose as she made her way down the staircase. Plastic cups littered the hallway and the stairs. Passed out bodies were everywhere, sleeping off the booze from the fraternity party the night before.
She didn’t think she’d drank that much. Three drinks, she remembered. The rest…the rest of the night was dark.
When she made it outside, she decided to walk instead of waiting for a Lyft. Each bare-footed step felt like it took a lifetime, and the world seemed so far away.
“Miss. Miss.”
Zoey blinked, finding a woman with a kind face pulling up next to her.
“Are you okay, honey?” the woman asked gently.
Her breath became stuck in her throat, the inside of her body wanting to flip itself on the outside just to repel the unwanted feelings. “No,” she whispered. “No, I don’t think I am.”
Zoey shook her head, pulling herself out of the memory. She still felt foggy two days later. Her skin still crawled whenever she thought about what might have happened. She wasn’t sure if it was a blessing or a curse that she had no recollection of that night. She didn’t feel like she knew anything anymore. Except that New York City no longer felt safe. She didn’t feel safe.
Laughter and voices carried across the warm breeze while she sat beneath a tree, trying to focus on writing her paper. In only a few months, she’d finish up at New York University and apply for veterinary college. All of her hard work would soon pay off. The long nights of studying, the lack of a social life, were all worth it. She missed her home in Sacramento, California, where her happily married parents lived. Once her schooling was finished, she’d go back home to her family and her high school friends. To get the life she was working so hard for. She tried to focus on that future and forget the pain from two nights ago.
When a shadow passed over her, it stole the warmth of the sun. Zoey glanced up, finding her two friends, Julie and Ava, standing above her. Both were in the same Biological Science course. On the first day of freshman year, they had all clicked. So much so that, eventually, they’d all rented an apartment together. Where Zoey considered herself more natural in style, Julie and Ava always had their makeup and hair done to perfection. She envied that about them as much as their outgoing personalities. But now, they both looked pale, eyes glassy. “What’s wrong?” Zoey asked, setting her laptop aside on the grass.
“I’m so sorry,” Ava said, pressing her hands to her chest.
An unexpected rush of heat washed over Zoey, sweat beading along her spine. “Sorry for what?” she asked, unsure she even wanted to know the answer.
“You don’t know, do you?” Julie asked, her shoulders dropping, her voice breaking. “You haven’t heard?”
On any given day around campus, there was some gossip running wild. Only this time, it felt personal. “Will someone tell me what’s happened?”
“She doesn’t know…” Ava breathed, her hand snapping out to hold Julie’s arm.
Every warm space in Zoey’s chest grew cold at the pity in their gazes. The world slowly dropped out from under her. “Please,” she barely whispered. “What don’t I know?”
Julie knelt next to her, placing a comforting hand on Zoey’s leg. “I wish I wasn’t the one to have to show you this.” She pulled her phone from her pocket and hit a few buttons before handing Zoey the cell phone and adding, “I’m so sorry, Zoey.”
One look at the screen, and Zoey’s body begged to collapse in on itself. The campus faded around her. The view was all too familiar. The black dress she’d worn with the strappy sandals. The lace bra.
Every footstep walking by her sounded like thunder to her ears. Every laugh or word spoken was too loud. Her focus narrowed on the rip of her dress, her bare breasts, her legs spread wide, and her vagina on display for all to see. But worse than the image was the message: A pretty piece from NYU. We destroyed her. Who wants her next?
Zoey’s hand trembled as the phone slipped from her hand. She looked into Ava’s and Julie’s slack expressions and wet, dull eyes before she heard the laughter and the voices. The fingers pointed her way. Some snickers and slurs. Slut. Whore. She recoiled, feeling each blow.
“Hey, sexy,” a deep voice suddenly said from her right. A handsome face filled her vision, cold arrogance gleaming in steely brown eyes. “Busy tonight?”
Zoey’s stomach roiled, and she fought against the chill stealing all the heat in her soul. She got up to run, to hide, to escape. But her legs gave out, the world disappearing around her as she threw up on his shoes.
Chapter 1
One year later…
The streets of midtown Manhattan were foggy from the rain earlier in the day. Rhys Harrington breathed in the heavy night air as he strode up the stone steps of the ultra-exclusive, upscale sex club, Phoenix, shortly after nine o’clock. In the 1920s, the historic building located on 5th Avenue was a gentleman’s cigar club. When Rhys bought the property and business ten years ago, he’d done so with another thought in mind. This corner piece of New York City, where anyone who stepped inside the doors left different than they came in, now housed fantasies and sexual delights.
Rhys wrapped his hand around the smooth golden handle and opened the
heavy wooden door, entering the classy cigar lounge. Round tables were full of customers, enjoying a drink of fine bourbon and a cigar. Three bartenders dressed in tuxes served up drinks while waitresses and waiters tended to the customers at the tables. Rhys continued on, heading through the door at the back that led to his large office. His huge cherry-wood desk sat in the center, surrounded by bookcases and art he’d collected over the years. He moved to one of the bookcases, took off a book, and lifted the wood there. After he pressed his finger against the fingerprint reader, the bookcase began moving, revealing the hidden stairwell behind. He traveled down the staircase, surrounded by stone walls, as the cabinet sealed shut behind him.
When he reached the bottom, he opened another door, immediately greeting his longtime security detail. “Andre, how are things?”
Former military, Andre stood at the door, alert and ready. He smiled in greeting, warming his typically hard green eyes. He didn’t hold a weapon; Andre was the weapon. Any threat walking through the door would regret their choices. “Can’t complain, boss,” Andre replied with a thick Texan accent.
“Then, it’s a good night, indeed.” Rhys headed past him, but stopped before he walked through the next door. “Let me know if any trouble comes up tonight.”
“You know it,” Andre said, inclining his head.
Every person on Rhys’s payroll also got playtime at Phoenix. It kept his employees loyal, like family. They fought to protect this club and its members as much as Rhys did, and that kept everyone safe. When he entered the main area of Phoenix, he felt eyes turn to him, the pulsating energy in the room washing over him. The seating section had brown leather couches set around square coffee tables. The gas fireplace cast a romantic glow on the place, and the large, dim chandeliers over each table added to the warmth of the space. The women wore fine lingerie; the men were shirtless, wearing only black slacks. He recognized every face, even behind the masquerade masks. As the owner of Phoenix, he personally met everyone who applied for membership. Even the members who required anonymity and wore full-face masks, Rhys knew well. He knew every secret of every person in his club, and with that trust, he offered sexual freedom at a steep price. The level of security needed to keep an identity hidden determined the cost of the membership. With the tunnels from Prohibition beneath the building, members could enter from various locations across the city. The men and women working at the club were all retired military who understood the value of secrecy and honor.
Phoenix lived in a gray area when it came to the law. The rich, famous, and powerful paid to watch two consenting adults have sex in a show of their choosing. The men and women in that show were compensated for their participation. To Rhys, this was adults consenting to a mutually beneficial agreement. One that provided the client with a sexual fantasy they enjoyed watching, and offered financial payment to someone who wanted it. Everyone knew that money bought silence. In Rhys’ experience, every person could be bought, for the right price.
Tonight, a quick sweep of his clientele told Rhys that four famous actors were there, along with their spouses, as well as a group of politicians, and a handful of Wall Street brokers. Rhys moved to the door off to the side of the bar that led to his office on this floor. The only other rooms down here were the private ones, where the nightly shows took place.
Before long, Rhys entered his office. The space had once been used to hold oak barrels full of whiskey, and some nights, Rhys swore he could catch that oaky scent lingering. When he stepped behind his desk in the stone-walled room and faced the two black leather client chairs in front of him, a low voice said, “You’re late.”
Rhys glance toward the doorway. Retired from the United States Navy SEALs Forces, Archer Westbrook entered the office and took a client chair. He had short and stylish brown hair, sharp features, and wise dark blue eyes. A friend from college with similar sexual tastes, Archer had been with Rhys from day one. Responding to Archer, Rhys glanced at his watch and grinned. “I’ve got five minutes.” He shook out of his blazer, leaving it on his chair.
“You’ll be ready in five?”
Rhys nodded. “Is Rigger’s virgin here?”
“She is, ready and waiting.” Archer interviewed, vetted, and handled finding participants for the shows.
Tonight was Senator Matthew Rigger’s night. Part of having a Phoenix membership meant that one night a month, each client could pick their preferred pleasure. The only rule? You could watch, but not touch. Phoenix was for voyeurs. Rich and famous singles and couples, looking for shows to excite them. Couples typically partook in their own sexual play when the show was over and the crowd was gone from the room. Phoenix provided rooms just for that. A few times a month, Rhys let members partake in the shows. He hand-chose the members to allow anyone who wanted to participate a chance to explore a flesh-to-flesh experience. No fantasy was overlooked. All needs were catered to. Phoenix lived and breathed sex. But when virgins were requested, Rhys took control of the show. The responsibility was greater. The risks higher. The emotions deeper.
“I’ll be out shortly,” he told Archer. Not waiting for a response, Rhys headed into the adjoining bathroom. Wasting no time, he stripped and showered, and dried off just as quickly. When he returned to his office, he left his clothes off and opened the safe behind the painting on the wall. From there, he took out his sleek black masquerade mask.
After he slipped it on, he slid into his pressed black slacks from the closet and headed across the hallway. When he reached the door, he exhaled a long breath. Virgins were not his preference. He lived for lust, passion, and all that was in between. But he understood the responsibility of handling emotions and protecting the women who entered his club.
He took one more deep breath and focused on giving Rigger the show he wanted while doing right by the virgin in his care. When he strode through the door, he found that most of the members had come into the playroom. Not unexpected. Rhys didn’t partake in the shows often, and when he did, the members showed up. He knew why. People loved power. As the head of Phoenix and born into the wealthy Harrington family, he represented that.
The crowd stationed around the room silenced as he strode in, the door shutting behind him. This space was the size of a typical conference room, but surrounded by stone walls, flickering candles, and with a velvet chaise against the far wall, it felt intimate. Next to the chaise was a gold platter with a condom and a black silk robe resting on top. But none of that held his attention when he finally caught sight of the woman waiting for him. She stood next to the dark-purple velvet chaise. Behind her delicate mask, he saw light hazel eyes accentuated with soft makeup that led down to high cheekbones, a gentle nose, and burgundy-painted lips. All that delicate beauty was surrounded by long strawberry-blonde hair. Rhys couldn’t stop his gaze from slowly traveling over her dark-green lingerie and garter belt all the way down to sexy black heels that made her legs look a mile long. By the time he reached her face again, his cock was hard, greedy.
He approached her, feeling the energy in the room tickling across his skin. When he stopped in front of her, he noted the heavy rise and fall of her chest. She had trouble holding his eye contact. And yet, she appeared to force herself to. Shy, but brave. A combination he hadn’t known he liked until right now. She didn’t once look away as he circled her, eyeing up his treat for the night. He tested her, stroking a finger down her arm, and the response she gave was immediate. Her cheeks flushed and lips parted, a slight tremble running through her. Gorgeous.
Heat flooded him as he made his way back in front of her and tucked a thumb under her chin, lifting her gaze to his. More to try to understand her than for the show, he stared into her eyes then dropped his mouth to hers. He kissed her, soft and gentle, showing her they were in no rush tonight. He had no plans to toss her onto the chaise and steal her virginity. No, with every slide of his tongue, he hoped she understood he’d have her begging before he dared take what she was willingly offering him tonight.
She g