If It Flies (Market Garden, #3)(29)
“Damsel in distress?” Percy grinned. He clearly got a kick out of his Arthurian name.
“I’m not wearing a frock for that. Just . . . I think I need some of your carefully-applied craziness.”
Percy laughed. “Now, that’s a romance if I’ve ever heard one. On such short order, I don’t think I can come up with 95
something really crazy, though a bunch of the guys are abseiling from the Shard.”
“I don’t do well with heights.”
“Paintbal ?”
“In November?”
“Short of pushing the senior partners of that other law firm onto the Tube tracks, that’s all I have at the moment.” He paged through the calendar of his smartphone. “Or what about this kink party on Saturday? There’s a club that only admits pretty people, and they’re holding orgies in the countryside.
You know, renting old Georgian manor houses, get a bunch of people in who pay a few hundred quid for the pleasure, and then it’s a free-for-al . Oh, and everybody’s wearing masks, though I’m pretty sure I’ve seen some big movers and shakers in various states of . . . agitation.” Percy gave him a saucy grin.
“You don’t have prominent moles on the chin or anything, so you should be okay. If you’re interested, I can get us a couple tickets. It’s mixed audience—the people running it told me there’s bi guys and gay guys and straight guys who end up on the wrong side of the tracks . . . purely by accident. And if you’re not getting your money’s worth, it’s a full refund. The food’s supposedly pretty good too.”
God, where did Percy dig up this stuff? Oh. Ex-investment banker. Enough said.
Spencer watched his thumb run back and forth along the edge of the armrest. “And they’re discreet?” Am I actually considering this?
“Totally. Given the calibre of men who show up at these things, everybody knows to keep their mouth shut. No one would even find out if Prince Harry showed up in a Nazi uniform for a game of strip pool.”
Spencer snorted. “Are you saying that’s happened?”
96
“Not that I’m aware of, but given some of the stuff I’ve seen? It wouldn’t surprise me.”
“I’m assuming I don’t have to wear a Nazi uniform, do I?
And my eight ball game is a little rusty.” He chanced a look at Percy, hoping no evidence of the last few months was written across his forehead.
Percy shrugged. “Nah, you’re good. But if you’ve got one, you—”
“No.” Spencer laughed. “Well, I guess if they’ll let in riffraff like you, I could give it a go.”
“Excellent.” Funny how Percy’s grin wasn’t nearly as unnerving now that Spencer had been on the receiving end of Nick’s.
Wonder if that applies to everything in my life.
Spencer cleared his throat and sat up. “You’ll make the arrangements?”
“I will.” Percy folded his hands across his lap. “That’ll take care of tomorrow night. Drinks tonight?”
“Absolutely. And they’re on me.”
“Damn right they are.” Percy waved dismissively towards the door. “Now get back to work and earn me some expensive alcohol.”
97
Chapter
ninE
hoever threw these wild—and yet discreet—sex Wparties certainly pulled out all the stops. When Percy stopped in front of the entrance, three valets in bowties and cummerbunds jumped to their feet and hurried down the steps. They opened the Jag’s doors, and one of them took Percy’s place in the driver’s seat while another issued a claim ticket.
“Have a good evening, gentlemen,” the third said, holding open one of the massive double doors. Spencer had been to corporate shindigs before that looked just like this on the outside. Between the huge house, the valets, and the rather expensive-looking jackets hanging on the rack behind the guy at the coat check, this could have easily been some soiree thrown by a client or one of the partners. Someone who liked to pour expensive wine and caviar down people’s throats so they knew just how wealthy he was.
He doubted it would be wine and caviar going down anyone’s throats tonight. From the confirmation email Percy had forwarded to him the night before, there definitely wouldn’t be any wine. No alcohol on the premises, and violators were summarily banned for life. He could only imagine the penalties for anything stronger than booze.
Since this was Spencer’s first time, there was a background check and brief orientation. Fairly straightforward: no means no, not every sub is your sub, and generally don’t be a f*cking wanker. Simple enough. The background check cleared, and they received white unisex half-masks, which they put on 98
before they followed another . . . employee? Valet? Whatever the hell they were. Cummerbund and bowtie, anyhow, and the kid led them down a hall lined with elaborate sconces that must have cost a fortune.
It was out here in the long hal , on the way towards what must have been a ballroom or something similar, that the reality of the evening started to cleave itself away from the black tie galas Spencer had attended in the past. Maybe twenty feet from the door, the smell of leather reached him.
For a moment, a rapid-fire film of memories flashed through his mind, every one of them starring Nick and those leather trousers. The scent, the shine, the sound. Holy f*ck.