I was starting to feel like I’d crossed into stalking territory when the blonde suddenly turned toward what looked like a club. It didn’t have a long line in front of it, but it did have a massive man standing in front of the door. Like arms the size of bowling balls massive.

And he just stepped aside and let the blonde in without a word.

I scowled, but still had enough of a buzz to try to follow inside. The still-rational part of my brain, while small, reasoned that I’d be turned away, at which point I’d take a cab and go back to my hotel. If I was still feeling like getting laid, I’d check out the hotel bar.

But the guy didn’t tell me to get lost. Instead, he looked me over, handed me a paper, and then opened the door for me. Surprised, I didn’t bother looking at the paper as I walked inside to what looked like a lobby, with a second door on the far side.

This guy wasn’t as big as the first one, but he wasn’t small either. Unlike the other one, he didn’t move from in front of the door when I approached.

“Read it. Sign it.”

I waited for further instructions, but he didn’t say anything else.

So, I looked down at the paper in my hand. “Welcome to guest night at Club Privé.”

Club Privé?

I’d never heard of it. But it was something new, and I didn’t get a lot of new in my life. The rest of the flyer was some standard legal jargon about how everything at the club was required to be safe and consensual, and that the club reserved the right to ask anyone not following the rules to leave.

I signed it, handed it over, and then walked inside.

If I hadn’t been slightly drunk, the words safe and consensual might have clued me into what was in store. As it was, though, I didn’t realize that Club Privé was a sex club until I was already inside.

And not just any sex club, but a BDSM sex club.

All around me, men and women walked by, some of them dressed in the skimpy clothes you’d normally see at any club…but others were in leather and chains…or not much else at all.

I couldn’t believe I’d just stumbled into a BDSM club that looked like the sort of place I’d been dreaming of since I’d first learned just how much this kind of thing turned me on. There were a couple places in Boston that catered to my particular preferences, but nothing like this.

I took a few steps away from the door and turned slowly, taking in everything around me. It was a massive space, with high ceilings and randomly placed pillars. Instead of pulsing strobe lights, the entire space was lit with what looked to be blue and white Christmas lights. The colors were softer than anything I’d seen in a club before. The music was like that too. Instead of harsh dance music, this was low enough that people could talk over the pulsing beat. Long, low couches were scattered around, as were regular tables and chairs. In the center of the room was a dance floor where several couples were already swaying slowly.

“Damn,” I whistled softly. Back home, if I wanted to hook up with someone who was into BDSM, I’d go to a club, but that’s all it ever was. I never really liked spending time there. This place, I’d come to just to relax.

If I hadn’t been looking for sex. And I was, now more than ever.

I turned my attention from the club and started looking for the hot blonde again. Maybe once she and I hooked up, I’d take a closer look at the club, figure out who owned it, and how to contact them.

Club Privé sounded like it’d be a good business to buy in New York.

After a moment, I spotted her. The blonde was standing next to the bar, talking with the bartender, but no man had approached her yet. Perfect. I walked straight toward her, appreciating the view with each step. I stepped just inside her personal space and leaned on the bar.

“What drink am I buying you?”

She looked over at me, surprised, either by the way I phrased it, or by the offer itself, though I couldn’t imagine I was the first man who’d ever bought her a drink. She had brown eyes, I saw, like melted chocolate.

“I’m not interested,” she said politely. “But thank you.”

I grinned. A challenge. I liked that. “One drink. Come on.”

She gave me a sideways look, then held up her left hand. For a moment, I thought she was flipping me off, but then I saw what was on her finger. A pair of platinum rings, one with a very large diamond in it.

Oh.

“I didn’t know,” I said, straightening.

She lifted a brow. “I hope that’s true.”

A man’s voice came from behind me, and I turned to see a tall, muscular man with dark hair and a scowl. The fact that he looked like he wanted to kill me made me think he was probably the blonde’s husband.

Shit.

“I didn’t,” I said, taking a step back.

One of the reasons I rarely got drunk was because, the first time I’d done it, I’d learned that the filter from my brain to my mouth didn’t work as well as it should when I consumed too much alcohol.

Which meant it was no surprise when I opened my mouth and something stupid came out. “Just a piece of advice. If you have a wife that fine, putting a ring on it doesn’t do shit if you’re not around to be man enough to keep it.”

The man took a step toward me, but the blonde put her hand on his chest. “Gavin, he’s drunk and running his mouth. Let it go.”

“Right,” I said. “Let it go. I have business to attend to anyway.”

“Business?” The scowl hadn’t faded much yet. “Here?”

I nodded. “I intend to make an offer to the owner of this club.”

Gavin crossed his arms and gave me a look that said if his wife hadn’t been standing next to him, he would’ve broken my jaw. “Offer?”

“I want to buy this place.”

I made the pronouncement and then waited for someone to say something, maybe give me the guy’s name at least.

Instead, Gavin grabbed the back of my coat and started pulling me to the door. The first bouncer looked startled when we walked by but followed us. The second guy simply said, “Boss?”

I had a bad feeling I was in deep shit.

“My club isn’t for sale, asshole.”

Yep, deep shit, I thought as Gavin shoved me onto the sidewalk.

Could’ve been worse, I supposed. I could’ve found out she was married after I fucked her.