Chapter Six: Secrets in the Shadows
The restaurant was tucked away behind an unmarked entrance on the Upper East Side, the kind of place only whispered about in exclusive circles. No neon signs, no social media check-ins—just a sleek, dimly lit space designed for those who valued discretion over spectacle. Tonight, that was exactly what we needed.
I arrived first, slipping into a plush corner booth where shadows swallowed the edges of the candlelight. My fingers traced the rim of my wine glass as I glanced around—no photographers, no nosy influencers, just murmured conversations and the occasional clink of cutlery.
Then he arrived.
Daniel never walked—he moved, with the effortless confidence of a man who had spent years navigating power and wealth. He didn’t look over his shoulder, didn’t hesitate. He trusted this place, trusted me.
“Emily,” he greeted, his voice smooth as he slid into the seat across from me. No unnecessary familiarity, no excessive affection. That wasn’t our arrangement.
I smiled, crossing one leg over the other. “You picked the perfect spot.”
His lips quirked. “I always do.”
The waitress arrived, discreet and trained in the art of knowing when not to linger. Daniel ordered for both of us—an unspoken ritual between us by now.
As soon as she left, his posture relaxed slightly. “You know why I wanted this meeting to be private.”
I nodded. “Your business partner’s wife saw us at the Baccarat Lounge last week.”
A muscle in his jaw twitched. “And now she suddenly has an interest in my schedule.”
I knew how delicate these arrangements were. A misstep, a careless public display, and the balance could tip. Not necessarily in scandal—but in whispers, in questions that powerful men preferred to avoid.
“Do you want to cool things off?” I asked, my voice steady.
Daniel studied me for a moment, then shook his head. “No. But we need to be smarter. More careful.”
I took a slow sip of my wine, considering this. In the world of high-end sugar relationships, discretion wasn’t just a preference—it was currency. BTC Holders Club wasn’t for men who flaunted their arrangements. It was for men who valued control, privacy, and the assurance that their lives remained intact.
“Then we play the game right,” I said. “Separate entrances, no more public venues where people recognize you. No digital traces.”
Daniel leaned back, a slow smile forming. “You really do understand this world, don’t you?”
I simply returned his gaze. Of course, I did. Because in this world, knowing how to keep a secret was just as valuable as knowing how to keep a man intrigued.
