The Buchanan’s Redemption (Buchanan Brothers #8)(2)
Author: Alexx Andria

Once the girl had scuttled off, Laird turned to Vince with a speculative look. “Did you hire her? I know I didn’t.”

Vince searched his memory and came up curiously empty. “No, I didn’t,” he answered. “Perhaps Nolan?”

But even as he suggested it, he knew it wasn’t true. Nolan was too busy being a husband and father — one of the most recent upsets in Vince’s life — to bother with the club they both held major stakes in. “I think we need to question the little morsel,” Laird suggested, eager to find the girl who’d practically ran away from them. Laird loved nothing more than the chase but Vince knew his friend too well and volunteered instead.

“I’ll take care of it,” he said, rising. “I need something to take my mind off what’s happening all around me.”

“You’re transparent, Buchanan,” Laird said, grinning. “You want to find out for yourself if that sweet little piece of ass is a virgin. Fine, have it your way, but if you find her, let me know so I can watch. I love watching you do what you do best.”

“Fucking pervert.” Vince grinned even as he delivered the insult and Laired grinned back as he called after Vince without shame.

“A badge worn with pride.”

Vince descended from the VIP level onto the ground level of the club and wound his way through the throng of well-heeled individuals all bent on being someone else for the night. Assumed identities were part of Malvagio’s charm as they acted out their most depraved fantasies under darkened and secret cover. Of course, most were decidedly tame, Vince thought as he passed by a number of sexual acts that were hardly taboo but enjoyable just the same, and even lingered a moment as a woman, her legs thrown over the shoulders of a man feasting on her clit, cried out, as her big, synthetically-enhanced tits heaved with the force of her climax. But he was more interested in finding the mystery hostess than remaining with the couple who had moved onto fucking before the woman could even catch her breath.

Malvagio was a tri-level building with the VIP quarters and the security cameras at the top level so they could overlook the second floor, an opulent expanse of divans, soft, sensual chairs as well as an area used for dancing as gothic techno music throbbed in time with the moving bodies. The bottom level was the dungeon, which was equipped with five different rooms of varying sexual preference and taboo. The walls were covered in burgundy damask wallpaper with priceless oil canvas art of William Bouguereau and Francois Boucher with buxom models showing plenty of flesh in varying stages of debauchery. Vince and Nolan had always professed an appreciation for a full-figured woman for there was nothing better than the give of soft flesh beneath the fingertips. His gaze sought out the unknown blond but each hostess that passed by were ones he’d hired — and bedded — at one time or another and his pique at not being able to find her was beginning to converge into something more serious. How had she managed to circumvent their security to gain access to Malvagio? No longer simply curious, his need to find the girl was grounded in the need to protect the club. Many had much to lose if their involvement became known and thus, the proprietors took great care in protecting their anonymity. Something didn’t feel right.

In the past, he’d have Nolan with him to handle the situation but Nolan was no longer available. His twin brother was too busy being respectable to bother with Vince and their investments presently — including Malvagio. But Vince didn’t have time to grouse about Nolan. With each passing second that the mystery girl went unaccounted, he felt certain they were all barreling toward something bad.

Emma Winters realized she’d bitten off more than she could chew the minute she locked eyes with Vince Buchanan, if even for a second, but she couldn’t find the way out of this cursed place to save her life. In hindsight, her grand plan had been pretty reckless but it’d seemed like the only answer at the time. Now? She just wanted to get out this rotten place before she ended up like her younger sister, Lana. She tried to make her way toward what she believed was the exit but suddenly, she was waylaid by a big man wearing a laconic smile and a carnal light in his eyes. “You look delicious,” he said, reaching out to finger a fat curl and tug on it lightly. “Do you belong to someone?”

The solicitously asked question was no less disgusting but from what she knew of Malvagio, everyone belonged to someone and if she were to say otherwise would mark her as being an outsider and blow her tenuous cover. She forced a tremulous smile and pretended that she was indeed someone’s property. “Of course. My Master is coming. I was told to wait here,” she answered.

“And who is your Master?” he asked, sliding his finger along the curve of her jaw. “Perhaps he would be of a mind to share his lovely pet.”

“He doesn’t share,” she said quickly, shuddering at the thought. “In fact, he’s very jealous. Very possessive.”

He arched his brow at that. “Possessive and yet he brings such a pretty thing here? Seems an odd way to cherish a possession as lovely as you. Surely, he knows that Malvagio has a reputation for debauchery at its finest level. And with that comes a certain…permissiveness with fellow Malvagio members.”

“Yes, well, he’s odd that way.”

He advanced, crowding her personal space in a way that made her intensely uncomfortable but she tried not to show it. Fear had a way of making people do stupid things and Emma couldn’t afford to be stupid here. “What if I told you, that I think you’re lying…that you have no Master and therefore are fair game.”

“Y-you would be wrong,” she said, lifting her chin. “In fact, my Master is…Nolan Buchanan.” She threw the name out there in the desperate hope that her aggressive suitor would back off but when the man’s slow smile widened with feral intent, she knew she’d picked the wrong Buchanan.

“Now I know without a doubt you’re lying,” he said, pushing her hard into the darkened room. She stumbled on a gasp but tried to dart past him — no matter she was blowing her cover big time — but he was too quick. “Where are you going, little lamb? We haven’t even begun to have fun.” He flicked the lights and the room illuminated through a series of slow, dim recessed lighting. Emma shrank back when she saw what looked like a medieval torture chamber with whips and chains and leather restraints. He turned the lock and returned to her, his smile the scariest thing she’d ever seen. “You see, I know the Buchanans very well. And I know that Nolan hasn’t taken a sub or slave to Malvagio in months, which means you don’t belong to anyone, let alone Nolan Buchanan.”