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then remembered he hadn’t asked a question.
    “Good,” he said like he meant it. “I’m glad you’re a quick study.”
    The limo driver slowed and began a turn. She saw they were in the theater district. As lit-up as Broadway was, she should have noticed this already.
    Audition was on a narrower street. The glass and metal awning above its front reminded her of old Paris Metro stations, the flourishes typical of art nouveau style. A line three-and four-deep straggled along beneath it and a ways down the block. The people who waited were well dressed but conservative, as if they worked on Wall Street or legal firms. She saw designer cocktail dresses and bespoke suits—and not a single item of studded black leather.
    Her decorative steel collar was the nearest thing to fetish wear in sight.
    She discovered this made her happy. Maybe he didn’t really mean to, but Jake was treating her like she was special. She couldn’t resist stroking the chains as their driver opened the door for them.
    Unsurprisingly, Jake ignored the line and led her to the entrance. The bouncer who guarded it was as big as a linebacker. He also wore a good suit. Jake produced a black poker chip embossed with golden Comedy/Tragedy masks. A silhouette of a horsewhip traversed the images.
    The bouncer glanced at the token and then at Jake. Jake must have met his approval. Without a word, he pulled the door open.
    Mia wondered if Damien Call had to flash a chip.
    She didn’t ask. They’d entered a red satin antechamber with a coatroom.
    Jake removed his leather jacket, handing it to the elegant woman who stood behind the counter.
    Whoa, Mia thought, taking in Jake’s appearance. He wasn’t dressed like he did at work. He’d paired a black silk shirt with knife crease black trousers. He never looked bad, but tonight he looked sharp. His shoes were shined and his belt was narrow. Without his usual suit jacket, the perfect shape of his trim strong body was obvious. He had a dancer’s ass: tight and muscular.
    Mia couldn’t believe she hadn’t noticed how great it was before.
    “Coat,” Jake reminded, yanking her from her fugue.
    “Sorry,” she said.
    Jake pressed a scolding finger across her lips.
    How crazy was it that him shushing her stirred a thrill?
    “Turn,” he ordered, his hands guiding her as she struggled not to blush. Every place he touched seemed unnaturally sensitive. She wasn’t sure what he intended until he lifted her coat from her.
    “You need to check any phones or cameras,” the chic coat girl said.
    Jake handed his cell over. “Do you have one?” he asked her.
    Mia shook her head.
    “Take my arm,” he said, offering his elbow.
    She was glad for the support. The space behind the next set of doors was packed and unexpectedly noisy. European dance music pulsed at her like a shifting wall. Voices laughed, plates and glasses clinking as people ate and drank. The room was circular, and the floor wasn’t level around the sides. Staggered tiers like terraces in a rice paddy supported small tables. Most of the seats were full, but some couples writhed on a black onyx dance floor in front of a curtained stage. Their gyrations were suggestive. Mia’s overly detail-oriented brain temporarily went into overload. She swayed on her teetery heels.
    Jake’s arm shifted to her back. “This way. I see a free table.”
    The table wasn’t free yet. Two tuxedoed servers were clearing it. One of the young men seemed startled when he saw Jake. His skin was caramel, his eyes the clear aqua of the Caribbean. The honey brown corkscrew curls that haloed his head looked like a Renaissance angel’s.
    “Mr. Reed,” he said. “We didn’t know you were coming.”
    As the slightest flush touched the young man’s cheeks, knowledge slapped Mia in the chest. Jake had played his S&M games with him. And maybe more than games. The waiter was preening the tiniest bit. Perhaps he was crossover staff between Audition and Diogenes. If Jake