I played dumb as my gaze drifted back to the man. “Is he? I hadn’t noticed.”
“Right.” He laughed at my outright lie. “Maybe we can say hello after the show if he’s still here. I want to make sure I have enough time to show you around before my meeting.”
“Okay,” I said. It was clear he had a plan, and it didn’t include introductions with the hottie in the gray suit. The guy’s gaze followed us as we strolled past the tables and dancefloor, but he never made a move to rise from his seat or motion us over to him.
The next room was a swanky lounge. On one side, a couch and several cushy chairs were gathered around a glass table. On the other, there were two open doors, leading into rooms that were dark.
“If a door’s closed,” he said, “it means the room’s in use.”
He stuck his hand in and flipped on a switch, lighting up the room that contained two couches that were so small, they were more like loveseats, and a side table that was only big enough to set drinks on. It was tight in the room, but the couches were deep and inviting, and it wasn’t hard to picture what probably went on in here.
Clay turned off the light and led me down the short hall. To our left was a gorgeous L-shaped wooden staircase, but he went right, taking me into a room with a glossy black floor and dark red walls. There was a small platform, like a stage, at the end of the room, and a strip of exposed brick served as the backdrop, framing the St. Andrew’s cross mounted to it.
I swallowed a breath. I didn’t need to see the logo carved in the side because I recognized the style instantly.
“Yours,” I said.
There was a hint of pride from him. “Yes.”
This cross wasn’t like the modern one he had at home. It was the traditional X, made of wood and decorated with iron bands and rings. The warm oak looked great against the brick, and it fit the space perfectly.
“It’s beautiful,” I said.
“Thank you.”
The cross had drawn my attention since it was the focal point, but my gaze shifted to take in the rest of the room. I got the feeling that the black folding chairs were typically set up in rows facing the cross, but tonight they were placed in a circle, leaving the center of the room empty.
Whatever the show was, it’d be happening there, rather than on the stage.
Disappointment skittered through me. “They’re not using your cross for the show?”
The corner of his sexy mouth quirked up. “No, it doesn’t look like it tonight.” He jerked his head toward the doorway. “Come on. Let me show you upstairs.”
The wooden staircase was ornate and had to be original to the old, converted house. The stair treads creaked and groaned loudly as we ascended. I didn’t know if it was a stupid question, but I was too curious not to ask and lowered my voice to a hush. “Is everyone gonna be naked up there? Will people be fucking?”
Amusement dashed through his eyes. “I doubt it. I mean, it’s still pretty early. Things usually start happening around midnight.”
He was right.
No one was having sex or even naked. It was because there wasn’t a soul on this floor, other than a staff member sitting on a stool at the top of the stairs. The second story of the house was smaller than the main floor, and the few rooms were basically more lounge areas. The only doors on this floor were for the bathrooms.
The biggest room had an impressive stone fireplace and a huge black leather sectional in front of it. An oversized matching ottoman rested in the center of the U shape the couch formed. Like the rest of the club, the space was tasteful. It was sexy with mood lighting and sultry music wafted from speakers mounted in the corners.
The biggest difference between this lounge and the one downstairs was what rested on the side tables. Tissues. Antibacterial wipes. And . . .
“Is that lube?” I asked.
“I think so, yeah.” He gave me an evaluating look, maybe as curious about my reaction as I was about him. “So, thus ends the tour.” He took a sip of his Manhattan. “Thoughts so far?”
“It’s,” I had no idea how to put it in words, “interesting.”
He understood. “Not what you were expecting?”
I nodded. “Not in a bad way. Just . . . different.”
He shifted on his feet, bringing him close and cutting down on the space between us. His voice dipped low, making it sound impossibly sexy. “Don’t be disappointed. The night is young.”
“I’m not disappointed.”
His gaze roamed over my face before settling on my eyes, and I’d swear he could see right past the lie I’d just told. “Sure you are. You thought there’d be whips and chains. Maybe a dungeon, or an orgy.” A gentle smile tilted his lips. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting that stuff, but it’s better this way. There’s a lot I’d like to show you, and it’s easier to learn how to swim in the shallow end.”