“Holy fuck.”

The dress was nothing close to what she’d expected. For one, it was white, not black, or even red. Secondly, it didn’t make her think of a porn video as much as the glossy pages of a magazine. It looked vaguely familiar, and she wondered what celebrity had worn it on the red carpet.

Also, apparently Bryant hadn’t been joking about the underwear: she couldn’t wear any, because there was a high slit along each of her legs, going up above her hip bone. The skirt floated softly around her hips, and the plunging neckline went down to her belly button.

Bryant had gallantly waited outside the limo while she got dressed. Now that she’d let him back in, he was staring at her in a way that made her think about the name she’d given him, so many moons ago: he was a wolf. A starving one. And she looked like dessert.

“This is….a little much.”

“Trust me when I say you won’t think so in a few minutes,” Bryant replied, still devouring her with his eyes. “Let’s go.”

She blushed all the way from the limo to the door of The Tower, self- consciously glancing left and right; but this was Manhattan, so no one paid her any mind.

The doorman let them through the doors, tilting his head respectfully as they passed him by, and then they were back inside The Tower. Only, the first time she’d stepped a foot in there, she hadn’t realized what sort of place she’d walked into, so she was considerably more curious than she had been on her first visit.

The lobby was just as inconspicuous as it had been then.

“Good evening, Mr. Parker.”

“Lillie,” he greeted the same pretty attendant behind her desk. “I did put a request through for a new recruit to be added to my membership last week.”

“Of course,” she smiled, before pulling a black folder from one of her drawers. “I have everything ready for your convenience. Ms. Brown, I presume?” she turned to Tori, her smile friendly and reassuring. She smiled back awkwardly. “If you and Mr. Parker would follow me.”

The woman led them to an office hidden behind one of the sleek walls; putting her palm flat against a panel made a secret door open up.

A nervous giggle escaped Tori’s throat. That basically was some James Bond shit.

The high tech, minimalist office was entirely white, with some glass furniture; a robot would have felt right at home there. And, to be entirely honest, no evidence proved that the man sitting behind one of the three large desks in the room wasn’t a robot. His features were completely symmetrical, perfect; no strand of his hair, parted and combed back, dared fall out of place.

Looked like James Bond wasn’t a bad nickname for him. He certainly fit the bill.

“Bryant.”

“Desmond.”

Of course he was called that. No Jack, Joe, or John for the mysterious potential spy.

“This is Desmond King, one of the three owners of The Tower Club. Desmond, meet Victoria Brown.”

The man looked at her like he was assessing her, and not in a sexy way either. Like she was a potential bomb ready to explode.

“You go by Tori, am I right?” the man didn’t raise his voice, but each word resounded like a low, rumbling thunder. Tori could have found it sexy, but she didn’t. He really didn’t even try to hide that he was dangerous. “And you are James Croft’s goddaughter.”

She nodded.

“Sit down.”

It wasn’t an invitation. Feeling like she wanted to turn on her heels and run out of there, she shot Bryant a look. He stepped close to her, and wrapped his arm around her waist. “We can go if you’d like.”

She breathed easier after that. Shaking her head, she sat on the fashionable and uncomfortable plastic chair.

“Bryant did notify us a week ago of your intention to explore our club today. I trust you understand the sort of establishment we run, and you also understand that we cater to the most elite public around the globe. For those reasons, this conversation won’t go any further until you’ve signed an NDA.”

Feeling a little more like her confident self, now that the surprise had passed, she managed to say, “You definitely need to work on your bedside manners, Desmond.”

The man stilled. He lifted his cold blue eyes from the papers he’d been fixed on, and she half expected him to tell her to get out. Instead, and to her shock, he cracked an unexpected smile. Never mind. He totally was sexy. “No woman has ever complained about my bedside manners, Ms. Brown.”

Okay. Well, then. She crossed her legs, and concentrated on the piece of paper Lillie was handing her.

She read each word carefully; it wasn’t the first NDA she’d seen. Marketing campaigns were often set up well before the products were announced so, of course, her clients did expect her to sign an agreement before getting her team to work on prototypes that weren’t yet available to the public.

It looked mostly okay, except for the last part. KTT International LLC wasn’t only going to sue the fuck out of anyone who violated their NDAs, they also promised to release some compromising content.

She could definitely see how that would be a huge deterrent for most people, particularly the sort of upscale clientele the club attracted.

She was about to ask what guarantee she had that they weren’t going to catch the wrong suspect and release videos about the wrong person, but the following paragraph detailed under which circumstances they would take action, and, basically, it seemed like nothing other than a hundred percent certitude, backed up by a pile of concrete evidence, would work.

“Wow. You do take this seriously,” she commented, holding her hand out towards Bryant, who ruffled through his inner pocket to fetch his Montblanc.

She signed the NDA.

“Indeed. Our members’ privacy, their comfort, and their safety are our absolute priority.”

“Good to know. Okay, so that’s done. What now?”

“Now, we’re going to need your authorization for a thorough background check.” The assistant was handing her some more paperwork. “It shouldn’t take more than an hour. In the meantime, you’re very welcome to make use of the bar. Lillie will take you.”

The Robot James Bond went back to his work, and the pretty receptionist got them out of his office, then led them through to a dark bar with comfortable leather seats and red lights.

Tori’s jaw dropped. She’d expected to see some people she’d recognize, maybe a few A-listers, considering what Lexi had told her, but fuck. There was a senator to her right, with a reality TV star on his lap, kissing him passionately. But that was okay, because the senator’s wife was there, and she was making out with a guy she was pretty sure had won Wimbledon a while back. There was a rock star, and some football players, plenty of actors…

Of the twenty-five people chilling out in the room, she could identify nineteen without any effort; the others, no doubt, were businessmen and women from sectors she had no interest in. Or perhaps people like her and Lexi, who’d been invited although they didn’t quite belong.

Her family did alright, but her father had made his own money, mainly by investing in James’ venture right out of college. Being raised as an upper-middle-class woman hadn’t prepared her for this; even her mother would have felt out of her depth amongst this crowd. And Bryant had been right about the dress: it wasn’t out of place or over the top here.

“Wine, or something stronger?” Bryant asked.

Like that was even a question. “Something stronger. Neat. Don’t bother with the rocks.”

He chuckled low.

“It can be a little overwhelming at first, especially down here in the bar. Don’t worry. And if you do feel uncomfortable at any point, I’ll get you out of here, okay?”

She inclined her head.

Now that the shock had passed, the next thing she noticed was that, once you got over the fact that you were sitting next to celebrities, well, they weren’t doing anything outrageous. Sure, some people were making out, but that was about it. She relaxed a little.

Bryant ordered at the bar, and a large, bald bartender came back with their drinks in no time. Seeing no money exchange hands, she raised a brow.

“Our membership covers drinks at the bar, and room service, basically, everything unless you get an employee to go shopping for you.”

“Do I want to know how much it costs?”

“Probably not.”

She winced before taking the first sip of the amber liquid she was holding in her hands, expecting an unpleasant taste, but, while the beverage certainly had a kick, she was pleasantly surprised.

“What the hell is this?”

“Original British Navy stuff. Not just what you can buy everywhere: Desmond has some Imperial rum stored away for the bar here. I offered him a fair price for whatever he’s got left, but he wouldn’t hear of it.”

She rolled her eyes at the oh-so-typical ‘mine is bigger than yours’ manly thing.

“So. I’ve signed the paperwork and all. What now? I mean, once they’ve cleared my background check.”

Bryant smiled.

“Well, then you’ll get a tour of The Tower. It’ll take us a couple of hours. I think Lexi is around tonight, so maybe we can say hi, unless she’s…”

Tori winced, and proposed, “Otherwise engaged?”

Sounded better than fucking someone kinky style.

“And then?”

Why was she pushing this? She knew exactly what was going to happen after that.

“Then, if you haven’t run for the hills yet…” he took his time, before finishing his sentence. “Well, it depends, luv. Are you going to carry on pretending you’re only here out of concern for your friend’s welfare, or perhaps out of curiosity?”

She could feel her whole face burn at this teasing accusation.

“I was concerned about Lexi. And I am curious.”

Bryant tilted his head. “You do realize that when you give in, I’m going to have to do something about the fact that you’re lying to me.” His tone was even, but he’d raised his hand to her face, and he was caressing her lip with his thumb. “Perhaps a little spanking for a naughty, naughty girl.”

Fuck. Why was that hot?

“I’m not lying.”

“You’re here for me, Victoria Brown.”

They both knew that. They both knew she couldn’t stay away, however much she’d wanted to.

“Say it.”

She probably should have; instead, she opened her mouth, and sucked at his thumb, before licking it for good measure.

“I’m not here for you. I’m here for me.”