I am alight with anticipation, mainly because Graham won’t tell me where we’re going.

In the car, my phone buzzes in my purse and I pick it up, pulse thrumming, just to have something to do.

How’s New York? I miss the hell out of your cute butt!

Everest.

My heart twangs at the sight of her name on my screen. We spent a lot of our time together studying; first, for the never-ending deluge of law school homework and then the bar. We were always surrounded by a tornado of takeout boxes and leftovers, when we could find the time to cook.

I miss her.

It’s very exciting...

Can you talk? I saw the cutest, most perfect, floral arrangements that would look amazing with my skin tone.

I laugh at the phone.

“What is it?” Graham asks, without looking.

“It’s a who. Everest. She wants to talk wedding planning.”

He brushes a hand down my shoulder to my wrist. Goose bumps rise in the wake of his fingers. “She’ll have to wait.”

“Are you worried I’ll text her all night, instead of talking to you?”

“You’d never do that.” Out of the corner of my eye, I catch the flash of Graham’s smile. 

“I wouldn’t. But I am going to tell her I’m busy.”

“Don’t make her too jealous.”

I lift my chin. “I have no control over whether she gets jealous of you.”

“Jealous of me?” Graham’s grip settles on my leg, just above my knee, and I almost double over—that’s how much I want him to slip that hand upward, between my legs. No. No. We need to have at least one conversation that’s authentic before we go any further. “Why not jealous of you for being with me?”

“That’s probably more like it.”

“You little minx.” He does something with his hand, and I have to take a deep breath to steady myself.

Graham is taking me to dinner. Call tomorrow?

If you don’t have a total SEX HANGOVER!!!

I blush at the sight of it, even though I’m dying for Graham to touch me, see me, kiss me. All of it. There’s an edge of wariness at my heartbeat—this is a risk if I’ve ever taken one—but it’s so heady, I feel drunk on air.

“We’re here.” The car pulls up to the curb and Graham waits for his driver to open the door.

“Where’s here?” He holds out a hand to help me out of the car. The building is graceful but nondescript—a wide staircase, no signage. Is it a restaurant or a house?

“You wanted to know where I came from. This is where.”

* * *

The Purple Swan is a club so exclusive, I can taste it on my tongue in the lobby.

There’s a certain hush, a certain reverence—the way the attendant by the front podium looks at Graham and smiles is enough to tell me he belongs here. 

I don’t, though. I’m wearing a brand-new dress, black and couture, put into my closet by Graham’s staff, but I feel like I’m wearing a paper bag.

“Oh, I—” I grip Graham’s elbow until he stops. “I’m underdressed.”

“You are not. You’re with me.” He pats my hand. “Let’s go.”

“Is this yours?”

“The club?” He wears an impish grin on his face. “No, it’s not mine. I’m only a member. Takes the pressure off, don’t you think?”

I don’t know what to think. I have nothing to compare this to. Everything about it is elegant. The carpet is dark, shot through with what looks like gold, and there are wide hallways that seem to go on forever. In the distance, I hear the thrum of music and I want to follow it, but halfway down the hall, Graham turns and leads me into a smaller dining room, more intimate, and it reminds me of the Inn at Little Washington. 

We’re seated not more than five seconds when a waiter appears at the edge of the table. “Mr. Blackpool. Forgive me if this is too forward, but I’m glad to see you back in town, sir.” He’s a lanky guy with hair the color of Everest’s, and he’s beaming at Graham.

“Not at all, Mack. It’s good to be back.”

They shake hands and Mack straightens up, putting his decorum on like a coat. “The usual?”

Graham’s eyes sparkle. “It hasn’t changed.”

“Right away.”

Mack leaves, and I stare at Graham.

He’s a different animal here. I expected him to be relaxed, since he’s in control of this venture, but an electric energy rises from his skin. “How long has it been?”

“Since I’ve visited the Swan? Two years.” Graham nods a little, like he’s confirming it for himself. “It seems like a lot longer.”

“I’ve never been to a place like this.”

Mack comes back with two glasses of red wine. I normally don’t like red, but the first taste is so sumptuous, it’s all I can do to keep from drinking the glass in one gulp. Graham’s mouth curls in a smile. “Then I get to be the one to teach you all the rules.”

My face goes ice cold, then blazing hot. Holy shit. A sex club? A BDSM club? That’s what this is? Is he going to expect me to go to a…a private room? Something like that? My mouth falls open, but no words come out.

Graham laughs, reaching across the table for my hand. “Bellamy, I’m kidding. It was a joke.”

I suck in a breath. “You bastard.”

“There is one rule, however.”

My heart pounds. “What’s that?”

“You have to stay with me.”