Chapter 528: Chapter 528

I sighed, knowing there was always a catch with her. "Alright. I’m listening."

Carrie didn’t answer. Instead, she gestured toward the woman in black. "You can take it over, Luna."

Luna shifted in her seat, the movement silent and fluid. She fixed her dark eyes on mine, her calm expression never wavering. "I’d like to rent you for an hour, Evan."

The word hung in the air, clashing with the sophisticated music of the string quartet. I blinked, sure I’d misheard. "Rent me? I’m sorry, am I a tuxedo now?"

"Yes," Luna said, her voice calculated and cool.

"For... what, exactly?"

"For a good reason," she replied, her gaze moving slowly over my shoulders as if she were appraising a piece of furniture.

I felt the "Villain" tag prickle at my neck. "Okay? Look, as long as there’s no weird shit involved."

Luna tilted her head slightly. "Define ’weird shit,’ please."

"No strap-on play. No weird femdom kinks. I have a reputation to maintain, believe it or not."

"Nothing like that," Luna assured me, her lips twitching into the ghost of a smile.

"Alright then." I shrugged, leaning back. "If it gets me to Jack, I’m game."

"Good." Luna stood up abruptly, her long black dress swirling around her ankles like a pool of oil. "Follow me to the restroom."

"Wait, right now?" I asked, looking between her and the half-empty dining room. "We haven’t even had the caviar."

"I’ll come as well," Carrie said, pushing her chair back with a predatory glint in her eyes. She smoothed down her emerald dress, looking more alive than I’d seen her in weeks. "This is going to be very interesting."

I stood up, feeling like I was walking into a trap, but with Jack Kuinn’s shadow hanging over the girls at the penthouse, I didn’t have much of a choice. I followed the two women toward the back of the restaurant, the eyes of the elite following us every step of the way.

Carrie didn’t even break her stride as we neared the back of the restaurant. She caught the eye of the owner, a man who looked like he’d been carved out of expensive granite, and held up a single, commanding finger.

"The women’s restroom," Carrie stated, her voice as sharp as a diamond. "I want it cleared. No one enters for the next hour. Do I make myself clear, Marcus?"

The owner didn’t even blink at the absurdity of the request. He simply bowed his head, his hands clasped behind his back. "As you wish, Ms. Beldenwary. I shall personally ensure you are not disturbed."

We stepped inside, and the heavy, soundproofed door clicked shut behind us, cutting off the quartet’s music. The place was a palace of porcelain and gold. The floors were a seamless expanse of white Calacatta marble, and the air smelled of expensive lilies and ozone. A row of vanity mirrors stretched across one wall, illuminated by a soft, warm glow that made everyone look like a movie star. It was cleaner than most hospital operating rooms and twice as large as my first three apartments combined.

Luna didn’t waste a second. She reached into her small, black clutch, pulled out a high-end smartphone, and handed it to Carrie. Without a word, she walked toward me and turned her back, her long silver hair cascading down the black fabric of her dress.

Carrie adjusted her grip on the phone, the camera lens already aimed at us, a predatory glint in her eyes. "Recording. Don’t mind me."

"Now," Luna said, her voice dropping into that calm, terrifyingly flat register. "Strangle me with your arm."

I stood there for a beat, my mouth falling half-open as I looked from the back of her head to Carrie’s smirk. "What? Did I skip a page in the script? What do you mean ’strangle you’?"

"Put me in a chokehold, Evan," she repeated, her shoulders square, her tone as casual as if she were ordering a coffee.

"What is this, the WWE? I’m not here to audition for a wrestling gig," I snapped, my hands lifting up slightly in a defensive gesture.

Luna turned her head just enough to look at me over her shoulder. Her expression was hauntingly serene. "Put me in a chokehold. Tighten it until I pass out. When I’m knocked out..."

She nodded.

"I want you to fuck me. I want to wake up to a mess."

I stared at her, a chill running down my spine that had nothing to do with the air conditioning. "Jesus fucking hell, Luna. Can we just have a... you know, a normal fuck? Maybe a little bit of dirty talk and some rhythm?"

She turned around fully now, her hair swirling. She looked disappointed, her dark eyes scanning my face with a dull sort of pity. "I’ve tried ’normal.’ It doesn’t move the needle, Evan. It doesn’t get me anywhere. I only ever cum when I watch these kinds of videos."

"The fuck you mean by ’these kinds of videos,’ Luna?"

"I have my own collection... videos where I hang myself from my doorknob until the world goes black. I wake up and masturbate to the recording of my own struggle."

My brain was screaming. Maniac. Absolute headcase. What the fuck did I walk into? I looked at Carrie, who was just watching through the screen of the phone, her thumb steady on the record button. She wasn’t shocked; she was fascinated.

"Strangle me," Luna whispered, stepping into my space, her chest almost brushing mine.

"How about," I began, my voice hardening as the "Villain" in me finally pushed back against the madness. "You try it my way first? As it turns out, I have a special... thing for people like you."

Luna exhaled, a long, weary sound, and her shoulders dropped in a sigh of pure boredom. "If we fuck right now, Evan, I’ll be as dry as sand. I need something out of this world. I need to be on the verge of the void."

"Trust me," I said, stepping closer until I could smell the clove and rosewater on her skin. I reached out, my fingers grazing the cool skin of her jaw. "You’ll be out of your mind when this hour ends. You won’t need a doorknob or a chokehold to find the void. I’ll take you there myself."

Luna stared at me for a long beat, searching my eyes for the lie. Finally, she gave a slow, reluctant nod. "Fine. I’ll try it your way. But if I don’t feel anything, the deal is off. Be rough. There is no safeword. You can use the back door as well. I’m clean."

I internally braced myself. I was dealing with a high-level masochist who had a death wish, but I had a few tricks of my own—and a "Hypnotize" skill that was itching to see just how deep this chick’s rabbit hole really went.

But... nah. I wasn’t going to use that skill.

"Good," I muttered, my hand sliding down to the back of her neck. "Carrie, keep that camera rolling. You’re going to want to see this."