by Stasia Black
The shaking that’s hit me on and off all day comes back and I clench my fist. And I know now for certain. Almost for certain. Did Gentry do it himself or have someone else do it? I know he’s capable of it. I know—
My eyes clench shut along with my fists. Even the idea that someone… that someone violated Callie… Fuck I’m going to be sick again. I already lost what little bit of lunch I managed to get down earlier.
“Sir?”
At Sam’s voice, I look up and there she is. Beautiful as ever even with brunette hair like she’s trying to dim her shine. It doesn’t work. Not even Bryce Gentry could diminish the burning star that is Calliope Cruise for long.
I step out and stand. Will she approach or hurry away? I give her the choice. I won’t chase her. Jesus but I’ll always give her the choice. I swear I’ll never take that away from her ever again.
For a moment I think she will run. But then she lifts her chin, head high, and comes toward me. So brave, always so brave.
She starts talking the second she’s within hearing distance. “Kissing you this morning was a mistake and I don’t want to talk about the other—”
“I don’t want to talk about that either. Now get in.”
I get in the back seat and move over, gesturing for her to join me inside.
Another choice.
She glares at me like I’m the most high-handed jerk she’s ever seen.
“Please, Callie,” I entreat, voice softer. “I think you’ll find the place I want to take you very… enlightening.” I can’t help a slight smile at the last word, imagining her many possible reactions to the place I want to take her.
“Where?” she asks reluctantly.
I lift an eyebrow. “It’s a surprise.” Maybe I can tempt her with curiosity? Jesus but I want this for her and it’s taking everything in me not to show my hand with how bad I want it. She’s drowning, I can see it, and I want to put some solid ground underneath her feet. I need to. I need it for her. I need it for me.
She rolls her eyes and lets out an unimpressed huff of air, glancing at the sidewalk that would take her to the nearest light rail station.
“I promise, Callie. Come with me just this once.” I won’t beg but I do need her to hear me. “If you don’t like it, we’ll go back to the way we were.”
This earns me another glare. “What, with you stalking me?”
I hold up my hands. “With you never seeing my face.”
“And the guy you have following me?”
“We can discuss the security detail.”
“There’s no discussion. It stops. Immediately.”
I wish it were that simple. “I’m not comfortable leaving you unguarded while your ex has some sleazy barely licensed P.I. following you around, trying to catch you in compromising photos.”
She leans against the car like she’s suddenly winded. She must not have known that her ex still had his PI following her.
“I thought the lawyers got a restraining order against their PI.” She looks freaked out, really freaked out. Maybe at the thought of their PI potentially catching her at some of her less than wholesome activities. Her ex would have no compunction about using it in court, but she doesn’t have to worry.
I get out of the car and join her where she’s leaning against the car, her breath coming in quick, panicked gasps.
I want to reassure her but at the same time, she needs to know all of it. “They just hired a different P.I. and once or twice even used lower associates within the law firm. As soon as we slap a restraining order on whoever they hire, they’re onto someone else. Even a restraining order only restricts them to a distance of a hundred yards from you. That’s nothing for a telephoto lens.”
She puts a hand to her stomach. “I think I’m going to throw up again.”
“No,” I shake my head vehemently. “Callie, listen. My security guards have made sure none of them have even gotten close to you. If you enter an establishment, my guys pick them out of the crowd and they don’t follow you in. You’ve been safe.”
“Are you sure?”
She’s so panicked and I hate it. I nod emphatically. “I promise. No one got past my guys.”
“Guys?” she squeaks. “As in, plural?”
I try to move toward her but she steps away, shaking her head. “I guess in some messed up way, I appreciate what you’ve done?” It’s clearly a question she hasn’t made up her mind about. “But no more.” She meets my gaze straight on. “I refuse to have men I don’t know following me around.” The shiver that goes through her this time is visible.
I nod. “I completely understand.” And I do. I really do. It was insensitive of me not to consider her feelings from the beginning.
She breathes out audibly. “So you’ll cancel the service.”
“No.”
She tenses and glares at me. “What?”
“I won’t cancel the service,” I say calmly. “Earlier today I requested a change in your detail so that you’ll only have female bodyguards from now on. You can meet them and have as much contact with them as you like so you’re comfortable with the situation.”
Her mouth gapes open and then closes. Then opens like she’s thought of something else to say but then she closes it again.
I’ll quit while I’m ahead.
“Excellent. Now that that’s settled to your satisfaction, shall we go?” I hold out a hand in the direction of the town car’s open door and move aside so she can step in. Please, Callie. Please.
She huffs out a breath of frustration and her eyes dart from the door to me to the sidewalk to the door again. She’s about three seconds from telling me to fuck off, I can tell.
But then her mouth purses and she points a finger right in my face. “Don’t think this means you’re off the hook. Stalker.”
She squeezes past me and slides into the car.
Yes. I breathe out and chuckle. “Anything you say. Anything you say.”
Classical music plays quietly through the speakers as we drive. Chopin, Prelude in E Minor.
I don’t say anything. Now that I’ve got her here, I’m content. Just having her close is enough to soothe that beast that lives inside me. Because just like everything else, her arrival in my life woke him up too.
He’s the part of me that’s always hungry and restless and mad at the world. I’ve never gone to a shrink but I know enough to guess that he comes from my screwed up childhood. Mom died having me and my biological father was a loser in and out of jail so often all I ever knew was foster homes. But dear old dad refused to give up his rights to me when I was still young enough to be adopted and by the time he decided he was done with me, I was six, too old and too wild for anyone to want to adopt. The beast was already born by then.
Nobody wanted me? Fine. I didn’t want them either. I’d never want anyone.
And I’d take all the things the world had refused to give me.
I was right on track to end up just like my father, in jail by the time I was twenty. I’d already come close to going to juvie twice and I was barely eleven.
Until the Kents.
Until Saul Kent, the only man I’ll ever call Dad.
Callie’s relaxed into the seat beside me, head back and eyes drooping closed. The mere fact that she can do that with me, that she feels safe enough with me, Jesus, it soothes those raw nerves that have been frayed ever since this morning.
And it means I can watch her in peace. Which probably makes me even more of a stalker, watching her while she sleeps. But it’s too rare an opportunity for me to pass up. My security guards don’t take pictures of her. It’s not surveillance, only security, and going all these months without even a glimpse of her… Jesus, in my worst moments, I wondered if she was even real.
Because it wasn’t like I could just go back to sleep. No, after her I was wide, wide awake. So I felt every single second of every single day without her. Torturing myself worrying about what Gentry had done. Fearing the worst and those fears only getting worse when t
he security reports came in of her out of character behavior.
I vacillated between wanting to go smash Gentry’s face in and ruining his business so badly that he’ll never be able to show his face in this or any other city ever again. Antonio and Murray assure me the later will be the smarter plan in the end and that we should stay the course, but that does nothing to pacify the beast who wants vengeance now, and wants it bloody.
I get angry even thinking about it all. Deep breaths. I close my eyes and try breathing deeply but it doesn’t do shit, so I open them again and look at Callie. Instantly the tightness in my chest loosens. The beast curls up and goes to sleep.
I want her in my life. In my bed. At my kitchen table each morning sharing breakfast.
But for now, I have this. Maybe it’s all I’ll ever have.
And it’s enough.
If I repeat the lie over and over to myself enough times, maybe it’ll become true.
Callie doesn’t wake up until an hour and a half later when we’re in busy downtown San Francisco traffic.
My driver, Sam, weaves expertly in and out of traffic until we pull into a small semicircle in front of a tall brick building with a red awning. There aren’t any identifying markers on the building, but I know it well.
A valet quickly appears as Sam gets out and hurries around the front of the car. A moment later, Sam opens my door and hands me my small black duffel bag. I step out and shoulder the bag, then hold out a hand for Callie.
She rolls her eyes and opens her own door. I chuckle as I walk around the back of her car to meet her as she steps out.
She does take my arm when I offer it, though. The beast gives a roar of approval.
“Is it really necessary that you have your own driver?” She asks as we head toward the front doors.
I smile and struggle not to laugh. I lean in and speak low in her ear. Is it a shameless excuse to get close to her? Yes. Yes it is. “If you saw my driving, believe me, you’d know the driver is necessary.”
That startles a laugh out of her. “Really? The famous Jackson Vale, admitting to a flaw?”
No one takes the shit out of me like this woman. “I didn’t get my license until I was eighteen and the first year I had it, I got in three car accidents. Then when I was twenty-four and made my first ten million, I totaled a Bugatti.”
“Shut up.” She grabs my shirt sleeve right as I reach for the front door to the building. “You did not.”
I incline my head. “I’m afraid so.”
“But don’t those cars cost, like, two million dollars?” she whispers.
I lean in and whisper back. “Two point four million, actually.”
“Oh my God.” She shakes her head. “Fucking rich people.” Then she looks back up at me. “But you had it insured, right?”
Ah, she always knows how to go straight for the jugular, doesn’t she? “I was in a bad spot in my life.” I shrug. “Not really one for thinking things all the way through at the time. The dealer tried to insist I set up insurance before I drove it off the lot but I assumed he was just trying to sell me a bunch of extra crap I didn’t need. I knew I had liability and I could set the rest up myself.” I pause. “And then I just kept meaning to get around to it…”
“Stop talking.” She starts to put her hands over her ears. “This is literally the most painful conversation I’ve ever had in my life. Two point four million, you said?”
She’s so damn adorable, I can’t help laughing. “I survived the accident, thank you for caring so much about my welfare,” I tease.
She waves a hand as if it’s unimportant, but the next second her eyes are flicking my way. And I have to say, I do like the feel of it. Jesus, I’ve missed her.
“So you can see now why I use the services of a driver from time to time. Besides, this city is full of crazy motorists. Did you see those streets?” I gesture behind us at the traffic. As if to make my point, a Tesla cuts off another car and then switches lanes, barely squeezing in between two other cars in time and eliciting honks from everyone around them. I wince. “I prefer to have an expert at the wheel if I can afford it.”
“And obviously you can.” She crosses her arms and raises her eyebrows. “There are less pretentious ways to get around, you know. The light rail and the bus suit the rest of us just fine.”
“I never said I’m a revolutionary. I can afford the creature comforts.” I come close again, so close I’m just a breath away from her ear. “So why not indulge?”
At her sharp intake of air, I pull back and drop my hand to the small of her back, urging her inside the building.
Her eyes dart all around from the second we step inside, her curiosity clear on her face. If she’s trying to guess where we are by the entrance area though, there aren’t many clues.
It’s just a small room portioned off by floor to ceiling black velvet curtains. The slow thudding beat of club music rumbles from far away.
Stephanie is manning the hostess station today. She has her customary red leather bustier on, along with a gold collar around her neck that is definitely a new accessory. I’m glad for her. She always wanted a full-time partner. More than I could ever give her.
“Jackson.” She smiles wide at seeing me. “It’s been quite a while.”
“I have the back room reserved.”
She looks on her computer and types a few things in, then comes around from back behind the hostess station with my keycard, head lowered and lashes flashing.
“Martin thought it would be amusing to make me work up here for several hours,” she hands me the keycard, her hand lingering long after I’ve taken the little card, “but I’ll be free later and I’m sure Martin would be happy to invite you to join. Just like old times.”
She keeps fluttering her eyelashes—something I bet she practices in the mirror for as much as she’s doing it—and I’m about to tell her how happy I am that Martin made it official when Callie suddenly steps in between us.
“You got something in your eye?” she asks Stephanie, crossing her arms over her chest.
“What?” Stephanie glances over at her, the first time she’s acknowledged her existence since we walked in.
“Your eyes,” Callie says, pointing overexaggeratedly at her own eyes. “You just keep blinking them so fast. Seems like there’s some kind of problem there.” Callie scrunches her face in pretend sympathy. “Maybe you’re starting to develop a pink eye situation.”
Stephanie makes an offended noise and looks like she’s about to start saying something, but I lose the battle and start chuckling. “Stop being a brat, Steph. Martin might put up with it, but I never did. I’m not about to start now.”
Stephanie shivers and drops her eyes. Dammit, the last thing Callie needs to see is one of my exes Yes, Sir-ing me.
“Follow me,” I say to Callie as I push through one of the curtains and head down a narrow hallway, the walls also painted black. Red bulbs mounted on the wall give the hallway an otherworldly glow. I wince, thinking how all this must look like to Callie.
I can’t remember what I thought the first time. Miranda didn’t bring me here, but it was to a place like this.
Gentry had used her up and tossed her out, just like he did everyone and she’d sought me out because he’d told her about me. Bragged about what he’d done to me. She thought we could be good for each other and she was right. More than she knew, in my case.
I glance over my shoulder and thank Jesus, Callie’s actually following and hasn’t bolted for the exit.
Doors line the black hallway and a little way down, I stop and open one to a changing room.
Callie lets out a breath like she wasn’t sure what she was going to find behind the door. But it’s just a small room that’s empty except for a large black wardrobe with rounded silver stud ornamentation and hinges.
“We’ll both need to change clothes. There is a certain…” I wave my hand in a so-so gesture, “…dress code that’s generally expected in this club.”
Stephanie and the leather and collar didn’t give it away? “Haven’t you guessed?”
“How about you spell it out for me?” Callie puts her hands on her hips. Even in her loose, bulky work clothes, she still looks delicious enough to devour and for a second, it’s difficult to think.
I wanted to introduce her to this world as slowly as possible, but I guess this is it. Time to lay my cards on the table.
She’s still standing by the door like she hasn’t made up her mind about staying or bolting so I cross the distance. “I told you I could introduce you to a safe way of playing out your desires. This is the first step.”
I gesture around us. “This place. It’s a safe space. There are extensive background checks on all members and beyond that, I have my security monitoring everyone who comes in and out.”
“So this is a sex club?” she cuts to the chase.
“It’s a social space for like-minded people.”
She narrows her eyes at me. “A sex club.”
I can’t help smiling at that. She never lets me get away with any of my shit. “Don’t knock it till you try it.”
But her head’s shaking firmly back and forth. “Any dude tries to put a collar on me, I’ll fucking castrate him.” She’s glaring now. “Even you.”
“No, Callie.” My voice is solemn. I don’t want her thinking I’m treating this like a joke. “I don’t think that’s what you need at all. That’s not why I brought you here.”
“Then why did you bring me?”
“It’s easier if I show you.” It’s the truth. I could try to explain it till I’m blue in the face but it would do nothing compared to showing her a scene.
“But first we need to change.” I walk over to the bag I brought. I might find her perfect in whatever she wears but here, what you wear speaks volumes.
I pull out her suit and hold it up for her.
Her mouth drops open. “You gotta be fucking kidding me. I’m not wearing that… that catsuit.”
I sigh. How do I explain? “What you wear gives certain signals to the other patrons. No one will ever touch you here without your consent,” I hurry to assure, “and tonight, no one should approach you since you are with me. But first impressions are always important. This outfit sends the message that no one should fuck with you.”
