**Dreams Folding Into Broken Time**
**Chapter 35**
**Chapter 24: Putting On A Show**
Savannah
The hostess led us away from our secluded booth, guiding us through a corridor lined with soundproof walls that muffled the cacophony of moans and gasps. We passed the sharp cracks of whips slicing through the air and the unsettling clinks of chains, all mingling with the raw, primal sounds of individuals surrendering to their deepest desires.
Finally, we halted before a door marked Room 6.
Roman’s arm remained firmly around my waist, his grip unyielding. I could sense the tension radiating from him, a palpable energy that hummed between us.
With a gentle push, the hostess ushered us inside and closed the door behind us, sealing us in a silence so profound it felt almost oppressive. The atmosphere was akin to a shooting range, designed to muffle the chaos outside, yet the opulence of the room spoke of indulgence and forbidden pleasures.
The walls were draped in sumptuous black velvet, accented with gold trim that glimmered under the soft light. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, their prisms catching the light and refracting it like frozen raindrops. The air was thick with the heady scent of expensive perfume, mingled with leather and a hint of something darker, more sinister. It was a space that pulsed with quiet decadence, a sanctuary for wealthy men and their taboo fantasies. Here, reputations could be tarnished, and legends could be born.
Soft, sultry music filled the room, seductive in its low tones, barely loud enough to drown out whispers yet enough to stretch the silence into something electric.
Chaise lounges and plush sofas dotted the space, and I noticed Dean and Chloe nestled together on one, their heads bent close as they exchanged hushed words. Their gazes were fixed intently on one focal point.
The stage. An elevated platform bathed in a spotlight, waiting.
What is going on?
Suddenly, we heard the hostess’s voice behind us. “We’re ready for your performance, Miss.”
I turned, bewildered, my heart racing.
“I’m sorry?” I stammered, confusion washing over me.
Roman’s arm tightened around me, a warning. Chloe’s smile widened, a predatory gleam in her eyes.
Dean, half-laughing and half-serious, looked like he was struggling to contain his amusement. His shirt was carelessly half-undone, adding to the absurdity of the situation.
Chloe stepped forward, her demeanor dripping with faux innocence. “You didn’t think we’d let tonight end without a little surprise, did you? Consider this my bridal shower.”
In that moment, clarity struck me like a lightning bolt.
I knew it.
The instant we stepped into this velvet-drenched lounge, I sensed something was amiss. It wasn’t merely the sultry lighting, dim and suggestive, or the faint strains of sensual R&B that seemed to wrap around us like a lover’s embrace.
No, it was Chloe’s smile. It was too sweet, too rehearsed, too full of self-satisfaction.

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