The Allure of Julian Lefray (The Allure #1)(14)

He shook his head with a bemused expression.

“They’re cut-off jeans, made into shorts.” I made a cutting motion across my thigh. “Mostly worn by hipsters with handlebar mustaches.”

“I guess I’ll see them on Wednesday,” he laughed.

“Got it!” Sergio explained, motioning us forward and sweeping the door open with enough razzle-dazzle to give Vanna White a run for her money.

And so began our tour of really crappy New York real estate. Julian and I quickly learned the lay of the land. Any spot worth renting cost enough to purchase a small island in the Mediterranean, and if the property was priced reasonably, well, there was a reason. Rats, poor plumbing, no windows—the list went on and on. By the time we were walking through the sixth listing, we’d both all but given up hope of finding something quickly.

We were touring the final property of the day, an apartment that was listed on the market as a commercial office space, but it didn’t look any better than the previous listings. The entire apartment couldn’t have been more than 400 square feet total, and the floor plan was incredibly odd. Right when we walked in, we were led into a small room with three chairs lining the walls. An ornate black chandelier hung from the ceiling, but there was no artwork on the wall. It looked like a stark waiting room of sorts.

“Is the space vacant?” I asked the realtor.

“No. Their lease is up in two weeks and the landlord wants to get a new tenant in right away.”

I nodded and continued into the space, skeptical of what we’d find. There was a once-functioning kitchen to the left, and off to the side there were two small doors that branched off the main hallway.

“How could someone classify this as a commercial space?” Julian asked, following after me. He seemed just as disappointed as I was.

I stepped toward the first door and turned the knob so I could peer inside. The room was small and dark, no larger than a walk-in closet. Yikes.

“We could each take a closet and pretend they’re actual offices,” I joked.

Julian came to stand behind me so that he could see into the space. I stepped forward to turn on the light, but it was out of my reach. Even still, I could tell that the walls were covered in a dark crimson wallpaper with a damask print. First the black chandelier, now red wallpaper? Had I just stepped into Dracula’s lair?

“No, clearly this will be the employee break room,” he added dryly. “I think the lack of windows is a real plus.”

I smiled and took another step inside the closet, curious about what the tenant used the space for. Surely it wasn’t someone’s office, right? As my eyes adjusted to the lack of light, I saw that directly across from me there were built in bars running horizontally across the walls. They looked like they’d be used as clothing racks, but they were at odd heights, a foot too tall for most people to reach. Then I saw that in the center of the space, near the back wall, there was a pole that ran from the ceiling to floor. It almost looked like a fireman’s pole, but that didn’t make sense…

And then it hit me.

Holy shit.

I scanned the space and realized all my fears had come true. Sitting on the floor near the base of the stripper pole were a couple of unused condoms and a stray pair of handcuffs, leather and all.

“Julian.”

“Is that a stripper pole?” he asked, taking a step closer. Poor, naive man.

“I think we’re standing inside a sex dungeon,” I said.

He barked out a laugh and took another step inside.

“How would you know what that looks like?” he asked as he stepped up behind me and pressed his hand to my lower back, trying to get a better look at the space.

I blushed, though he couldn’t see it. “I’ve read about these things.”

I turned to see his brow quirked with interest as his hazel eyes met mine in the darkness.

“For purely scientific reasons, of course,” I said, holding up my hands.

“Oh, I’m sure,” he nodded with sarcastic reassurance. “Why do you think we’re in a sex dungeon? Because of that pole?”

I pointed toward the pile of forgotten items on the ground. He stepped closer in the darkness to get a better look and then I heard an audible squelch, followed by Julian momentarily losing his footing. I squeezed my eyes closed to keep my composure though I knew I was seconds away from full-on hysterics.

“What the?” he asked.

He lifted his foot and glanced down.

“Julian, I’m pretty sure you just stepped on anal beads.”





Chapter Nine


Julian





“Wait. Wait. Wait. You’re telling me that you spent the day touring sex dungeons while the rest of us punched the clock?”

Dean groaned as he waved the cocktail waitress back over toward us.

“Can I help you?” she crooned, eyeing Dean with blatant interest.

“Yeah.” Dean pointed toward me and I watched the waitress stare back and forth between us, unsure of where she wanted to focus. “This bastard here would like to buy me another beer,” he said, throwing his hand onto my shoulder and squeezing hard.

I rolled my eyes but nodded for her to go ahead with the order.

After a few days of playing phone tag, Dean and I had finally managed to meet up for drinks at the lounge on the first floor of my hotel. I hadn’t seen him in years, not since an old college friend’s wedding, so the least I could do was buy him another beer.