Under His Command (For His Pleasure, Book 17) Read Online Free PDF Page B

just below the face of the watch, he wore a tattoo on his wrist.
    >X
    She stared at the tattoo for a long time, and the man smiled, watching her. “Do you see something you like?”
    Kennedy nodded slowly. The symbols she’d seen on that credit card instantly clicked into place as she saw the other half of the equation presented on the man’s wrist.
    “Infinity is greater than any number,” she replied.
    The man’s eyes widened. “How do you know about that?”
    Kennedy met his gaze. “I’m a friend of Easton Rather. He asked me to meet him here tonight.”
    “Did he.” The well-dressed man’s eyes became colder once more. “That’s interesting. That’s also very unusual.”
    “I know,” she lied, and then she shrugged, trying to appear as bored with his mistrust as an entitled rich girl might appear. “Would you mind bringing me with you?”
    she said. “It’s my first time.”
    Now the man did smile. “Good for you,” he said. “Easton can show you the ropes and then some.”
    A thrill of excitement and also fear ran through her belly as he turned and led her outside and around the back of the club, to a completely different entrance. Kennedy wanted to ask a million questions. What was this place, and how were they able to use a back entrance to this bar? Where was he taking her? How did he know Easton Rather?
    But they didn’t speak. When the man arrived at the back entrance, he knocked.
    The door opened and a large, heavily muscled man with Italian features nodded in recognition. When his eyes met Kennedy’s, however, he hesitated.
    “And this?” he asked, in an accented, smooth voice, gesturing to her.
    The well-dressed man gave a slight shrug. “She claims she’s been asked here by Easton Rather. I don’t know her.”
    The Italian man stepped aside and let her guide through the door but then stepped back in front of the entrance again. He pushed a button on a small headset beside his ear and spoke softly. Then he glanced at her warily.
    “He’s expecting me,” she said, attempting to go past him.
    He put a hand out and stopped her cold. “Mr. Easton said I should let you in, but only if you can give the account number.”
    Kennedy laughed. “Are you serious?”
    The Italian security guard didn’t smile in return. “Account number. Quickly.”
    She sighed deeply, closing her eyes. Instantly, she recalled the image of the credit card and the obsidian, reflective quality of the plastic. And then she saw those numbers, flashing at her. Kennedy began repeating the numbers out loud as if she were reading them directly off the card—which, in a way, she was.
    Once she’d finished reciting the numbers, she opened her eyes.
    The man stepped aside and let her go past.
    Kennedy was trembling, shocked that she’d somehow found her way to this place that shouldn’t have even existed. It was quite a lot of trouble for her to go through just to get a job as an executive assistant, and it was also quite a lot of trouble for Easton Rather to have put her through.
    If she was right in thinking that he’d created this test for her to take, Kennedy found it very strange that he’d bothered. All of this—for what? So he could be sure she would take diligent notes in meetings?
    Inside, the secret club was far different from the bar she’d been in minutes ago.
    The lighting was so dim as to be almost nonexistent, and the hallway she walked down was empty of any activity. Faintly, she heard thumping music, but it could have been anything or anywhere. As she continued walking, she noticed that up ahead there was a series of doors. All of them were closed.
    Kennedy’s heart was beating faster and faster. Faintly, she heard a moan and then a scream. Or maybe they’d both been moans. She couldn’t tell.
    What the hell is this place?
    She smelled leather and wood and mustiness, like an old chair in the MIT library.
    The music was louder now. It sounded like typical club music, with a strong, heavy beat