Page 43 of The Jaded Notes

No one lingers too long. No one stares because no one needs to. In this place, being seen is a choice. And being pleased is a certainty.

Tonight, I want to transcend all time and space. Not because of shame but because of the weight of being known too deeply by people who never earned the right.

“Miss Hemings.” A man’s voice cuts through the hush behind me.

I turn to find a guy standing just far enough away not to intrude, dressed in black-on-black Armani and the calm stillnessof someone who doesn’t chase power because he already owns it.

“Mr. Beckett asked me to show you around.” His smooth British accent wraps around me like silk over bone. “He asked me to greet you and assist with your introduction.”

“And you are?”

“Justin.” He dips his chin with a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, though he doesn’t offer his hand. “I’m Mateo’s right-hand man. But for tonight, I’m yours, should you still wish to proceed.”

His words hit deep, right between my ribs where doubt used to live. I study him for a moment.

The shape of his mouth. The quiet intelligence behind his gaze. He’s not trying to come on to me, and somehow, that makes him more dangerous. He isn’t flirting. He’s offering something rarer.

Control. The kind you hand over because it’s yours to give.

“I would like to continue.” My heart races in anticipation. “I take it you’re familiar with what I requested.”

He nods. “I am, and the space has already been prepared.”

“And them?”

“They know why they’re here. And more importantly, they understand the kind of woman they’re here for.”

I pause, letting that settle. “And you?”

“I’ll be present at first to ensure comfort, to calibrate the tone and the energy. But if you’d prefer me to stay...” His gaze lingers. “I can do more than set the scene.”

He doesn’t smile when he says it. And he doesn’t need to.

A thrum builds inside my chest. “But you know who I am. I don’t want to have any ties to my partners.”

“I understand.” He gestures for me to follow. “Maybe another time.”

We stroll down an intimate hallway lit by iron wall sconcesthat pulse a low amber light like the heartbeat of the building itself.

Each door we pass is marked with nothing but a brass number, discreet and cold against the warmth spilling from the rooms behind them.

Some of those rooms seem to breathe. Others sigh, but none of them open.

Until we reach the one meant for me.

“Chamber Eight.” Justin stops in front of a matte-black door with the number eight engraved flush with the leather-paneled wall. “This area is reserved for initiates and tailored experiences. You’ll have full autonomy and control over the entire evening.”

“That’s nice to know. Thank you.”

His hand hovers near the handle. “You requested an experience with two men with whom you’ll share no names. I’ve made sure they understand your terms, your boundaries, your preferences, and the strict code of devotion to you. No speaking unless necessary. You set the limits and command the pace.”

I steady my breath. “And the blindfold?”

“Of course.” He pulls out a folded black cloth from his inner jacket pocket. “You’ll see no faces. Just feel sensations.”

I nod and take a breath, knowing I’m about to have sex with two men I don’t know. I won’t be able to identify them after I leave tonight.

That’s part of the thrill because I don’t want to be Livianna Hemings. I don’t want to be the girl who loves too hard, or the woman who got left behind by men trying to be storms that try to wipe me out. I want to vanish without losing myself.