“You about done for the day?”
“Just have to punch out.”
“Good, I want to take you out on a date.”
“Our first real date,” I tease. “How romantic.”
Sure, we’re engaged. We’ve had mind blowing sex. We’ve said our “I love you’s” and planned the rest of our lives together, but nothing Serafin and I have done has ever been linear.
“I’ve taken you on dates before,” he says, wrapping his arm around my waist.
“Mostly to dark places where you thought you could slip your hand up my shirt,” I say with a laugh.
“We’re grown now, Mia. I can slip my hand up your shirt anywhere you want.”
I laugh, resting my head on his shoulder. Dyta makes a gagging sound and I flick her off as we walk out the door. “Where are you taking me?”
“What are you in the mood for? Steaks? Lobster?”
I can’t imagine there’s any restaurant in all of Krakow that can rival the kind of stuff Chef Tymon cooks. “How about burgers and milkshakes?”
He opens the car door for me and I slide in, the buttery black leather warm from the sun. “Anything you want.”
He rests his hand on my thigh as we ride down the road, and it makes my heart flutter. Every time he touches me, I get flooded with this overwhelming urge to sing, to scream, to tell the whole world I’m in love. The simple way he rests his hand on my thigh like he owns my body, it’s enough to make me feel all stupid and giddy.
He pushes the speed and I squeal. Wind whips through the car, my hair blowing all over the place, and even though I should probably be afraid, I trust him with my life, and honestly, it’s kind of fun being risky.
“My mother is in the hospital,” he says, finally, breaking the silence.
“Oh shit, did you tell her you proposed to me?” I slap my hand over my mouth realizing that’s not a funny joke at all. “I’m sorry. Is she alright?”
“They don’t really know.”
“I’d like to go see her, that is, if it would be okay with her,” I say. I take his hand in mine, and he squeezes back gently. “If we’re going to be together, I don’t want any bad blood between me and your family or friends.” I know Mrs. Mazur isn’t exactly my biggest fan, and I probably haven’t given her any reason to believe I’m anything but a country bumpkin peasant. I want her to know that I am and always have been madly in love with her son, though. I want her to know he’s in good hands. I want to be able to love her, and for her to love me like mother in laws should. I want to make everything right.
“Why are you so fucking perfect?” he asks.
“Hardly,” I say, throwing my head back and laughing.
He whips his car into a parking lot and puts it in park, leaving the engine running. He leans over and gives me a peck on my cheek. “I’ll be back in a minute. I have to run inside and talk to Fabian real quick.”
I eye the big black building in front of us, pink neon light shining from behind the almost sheer black curtains in every window.
“Club Taboo?” I ask. “Isn’t everyone like… naked in there?”
“Is my little mouse jealous?” he asks, raising his eyebrows.
“No, but your little mouse is curious as to why you’re meeting your best friend at a sex club when you’re supposed to be taking me out for cheeseburgers.”
“You want to come in with me?” he asks. He slides his sunglasses off and tucks them in his pocket. He’s got this goofy smirk on his face.
“Kind of?” I half ask. I’ve only heard about this place from Janka, and from what she’s told me, it’s pretty much wall to wall banging, an all out orgy. I don’t think I have to worry about him diving in for a quickie, but I don’t think it’s exactly the kind of place an engaged man would hang out at. Plus, my curiosity is killing me.
“Well let’s go, then.”
I suck in a quick nervous breath and he helps me out of the car, wrapping his arm around my waist, his hand draped over my hip like he’s holding on to a piece of precious property. Like he’s showing the whole world that I belong to him. I don’t exactly hate it at all.
He pulls out a key from his pocket as we walk around the side of the building to the back door. “You have a key to this place?” I ask.
“It’s not what it looks like. Our holding company owns a portion of this club along with a couple others. I might be a VIP guest but it’s only because I’m an investor, not a frequent flyer. This place is more of Fabian’s thing, anyway.”
He swings the door open and I don’t know what I was expecting, but this isn’t it. All the overhead lights are on as a janitor mops what looks like a dance floor area. The air smells like bleach and there aren’t even cages or poles, just a nice looking bar, and lots of leather furniture.
“The club doesn’t open until after dark,” he says, guiding me through the building. “I’m sorry you’re getting the watered down version. I can bring you back later if you want to see everything in full swing.” He shoots me a devious wink, and I can’t help but wonder if that’s something I’m into and just never realized it. If I was going to be here with anybody, it would definitely be him.
As we walk down the long hallway, things get a little weirder. There are rows and rows of rooms with big glass floor to ceiling windows, and each one seems to have a different theme. One looks like a castle with all sorts of torture devices,
