Sophie pulled her eyes away from the red-headed dom and his ensnaring gaze. The club was almost too much to take in. Collars, leashes, the occasional pole with chains hanging from it, and a giant cross were all there, part of the fantasy world created amid the glitz and old world décor.
Sliding past entwined bodies and expensive furniture, she saw more that intrigued her. The club itself was this one large room with several halls splitting off the main room. Hayden had explained earlier that morning the layout of the club. She had pointed out that no matter which hall you went down you had to come back to the main room to exit the club. A handy safety feature. A little exhalation of relief escaped her lips. How deep did a man like Emery Lockwood live this lifestyle? Would she find him in one of the private rooms or would he be part of a public scene like the ones she was witnessing now?
She was nearly halfway across the room when a man caught her by her arm and spun her to face him. Her lips parted, ready to scream the word “red”, but when she met his gaze she froze, the shout dying at the back of her throat. He raised her wrists, fingering the red ribbon around her leather cuffs. His gray eyes were as silver as moonlight, and openly interested. Sophie tried to jerk free of his hold. He held tight. The arousal that had been slowly building in her body flashed cold and sharp. She could use the safe word. She knew that. But after one deep breath, she forced herself to relax. Part of the job tonight was to blend in, to find Emery. She couldn’t do that if she ran off and cried for help at the first contact. It would be smarter to let this play out a bit; maybe she could squeeze the dom for information about Emery later if she didn’t find him soon. For Sophie, not being able to get to Emery was more frightening than anything this man might try to do to her.
“I see your cuffs, little sub. I’m not going to hurt you.”
His russet hair fell across his eyes and he flicked his head: power, possession, dominance. He was raw masculinity. A natural dom. He was the sort of good-looking man that she would have mooned over when she was a teenager. Hell, even now at twenty-four she should have been melting into a puddle at this man’s feet. His gaze bit into her. A stab of sudden apprehension made her stomach pitch, but she needed to find Emery and going along with this guy might be the best way to get information. He tugged her wrists, jerking her body against his as he regarded her hungrily. “I need an unclaimed sub for a contest. Tonight is your lucky night, sweetheart.”
Chapter 2
Elliot and Miranda Lockwood were visible during the time the kidnapping is speculated to have occurred. The twins were last seen in the kitchen by their hired nanny Francesca Espina, age fifty-four years, who had summoned the boys to the kitchen for dinner.
—New York Times, June 10, 1990
Sophie barely had time to protest at the dom’s tight hold on her wrist before he dragged her across the room to where a group of people circled a couch against the wall. She could have said “red” and stopped whatever game he’d intended to play so she could keep searching for Emery, but the word died on her lips. A large crowd of people all turned to face her, amusement flashing in their eyes. The crowd’s focus on her was not comforting in the slightest. She was prey, for a so-called contest, in a BDSM club. Searching the faces for Emery’s, she prayed she’d be lucky enough to find him. If not, she’d use her safe word and get free of the man and his “contest.”
Holding her, he grinned darkly at the onlookers. “Found a newbie. She’ll be perfect.”
Sophie again jerked to get her wrist back and failed. She stifled a gasp as he promptly smacked her bottom with an open hand. Her gaze darted across the crowd, trying to seek out Emery’s familiar face. He had to be here somewhere. Most of the club members had moved in to watch her and this dom.
“Stand still, bow your head,” he commanded.
To her shock she obeyed instantly—not because she naturally bowed to anyone who shoved her around, but because something inside her responded to the commanding tone he’d just used on her. He seemed like a man who would enjoy punishing her, and she knew enough about this lifestyle to know she never wanted to end up over a spanking bench, even if the idea did make her insides flare to life.
“Bring her here, Royce.” A cool, rich voice spoke, pouring over her skin like whisky—slightly rough, with an intoxicating bite to it. When this man spoke, the voices murmuring around her stopped and a hush fell over the area.
The crowd around her and the man, Royce, parted. Another man, sitting on the blue brocaded couch, watched them. His large hands rested on his thighs, fingers impatiently drumming a clipped beat. Royce shoved Sophie none too gently, sending her to her knees right at the man’s feet. She reacted instinctively, throwing her hands out to balance herself, and her palms fell on his thighs and her chest collided with his knees.
Air rushed out of her lungs in a soft whoosh. For a few seconds she fought to regain
