“Deirdre and her team are upstairs. They’re remodeling the bedroom.”
“What’s it turning into now?”
“A fancy living room.”
“Oooh. I can’t wait to see that.” She clapped her hands with glee. “I do love seeing what Trent comes up with when it comes to ordinary household rooms. Then again, most of us aren’t as privileged as he is. My bedroom definitely isn’t as decadent as the one he had designed.” She turned on her heel, followed me toward the scanning area. “Do you think his house is equipped like that? All the hidden torture devices and bondage equipment?”
“I wouldn’t doubt it.”
“Is yours?” she inquired.
Her question had me pulling up short. “Actually, no.”
“Really?” She sounded sincerely surprised.
“Really.”
“Why not?” Cambria stood back as I stepped into the reception area, rummaged through the desk drawer.
I took a seat in the chair, pulled the drawer out farther. “Never had time.”
“Hmm.”
I stopped my search and stared up at her. “What does that mean?”
She shrugged. “I just figured you for the type of Dom who was ready for anything.”
“Yeah, well. Too much on my plate to worry about that.”
“By that, are you referring to a personal life?”
I pushed the drawer back in, pulled out another. “There it is,” I muttered.
After grabbing a stack of blank RFID cards that we used for membership IDs, I closed the drawer and got to my feet.
I held them out to Cambria. “The training roster for the upcoming class is on my desk in my office. Can you please get these done? They’ll be here for orientation tomorrow night and I’d like to have them ready.”
“Sure.” She took the cards. “You ignored my question.”
“What question was that?” I asked, making my way back toward the stairs.
“Your personal life.”
I waved her off as I started up. “No time for that. Too busy.”
Cambria laughed behind me. “I’ll just wait for the electrician.”
I simply nodded, preoccupied with my never-ending to-do list. I was meeting a client at one for a formal lunch meeting and I was already running behind. I’d been hoping for a few minutes to go over my presentation. Unfortunately, there never seemed to be enough time in the day, so something was always pushed aside. Good thing for everyone, I was good under pressure.
“Hey, Edge?” Deirdre called out as I was rounding the landing to head up to the third floor. “I had to requisition a piece of equipment from Dallas. I called Dylan. He’s getting it handled. Should be here by Wednesday.”
“Great.” I kept walking. Deirdre was used to my distraction, so she wouldn’t take it personally. I trusted her to get things done and she worked well with Dylan Thomas and his wife, Sara. They managed Dichotomy’s Dallas location and were valuable assets when it came to getting things done with minimal issue or cost.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out, glanced at it as I stepped into my office. It was the alarm I’d set to remind me I had to leave. Tucking it back into my slacks, I grabbed my planner and was starting to rummage around for my iPad when I heard footsteps behind me.
“Looking for this?”
I glanced over my shoulder to see Deirdre holding out my iPad.
“Actually, yes.”
I took it from her hand, slid it into the planner, and took a deep breath.
“Relax, Edge. You look tense.”
I inhaled slowly, exhaled deeply. “Nothing I can’t handle.”
She chuckled as she turned and left. “You always say that.”
I started for the stairs again. “I always mean it, too.”
That was the way I rolled. The more pressure, the better I handled myself.
The story of my life.
Jamie
WHEN TIFFANY CALLED LAST NIGHT, I PROMISED to meet her at the mall today for lunch. Since she spent every extra minute working at one of the hip clothing stores, we’d gotten used to sitting in the food court and scarfing down chicken sandwiches while sharing French fries and a chocolate shake.
“I want to hear all about the club. What was it like?” Tiffany blurted the instant my butt touched the hard wooden seat.
“Nice.”
Tiffany stared at me, disbelief making her eyes wide, her mouth hang open. “Nice? That’s all you’ve got?” She feigned hurt and disappointment as she rummaged through the paper sack, pulling out the French fries. “You go to the hottest BDSM club in the nation and you describe it as nice.” Big blue eyes latched onto my face. “Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?”
I laughed, unwrapping my sandwich. I had to be back at school shortly, so I had to be efficient.
“Fine. Tell me about him, then. What was he like?”
I couldn’t keep the smile off my face. “He was … Dom-like.”
My friend burst out in laughter, drawing the attention of everyone around us. I rolled my eyes, ignored all those curious gazes now shifting our way.
“Dom-like, she says,” Tiffany muttered as she lifted her sandwich to her mouth, pinning me with a glare.
It was my turn to laugh, but I did so discreetly. “Fine. He was nice. We toured the dungeon first.”
Her eyes widened again. “Does it look like a real dungeon?”
“It does.”
“Were there naked people?”
“There were.”
“Was some woman getting spanked?”
Before I answered, I cast a quick look at the tables closest to us, ensuring there weren’t any little kids close enough to overhear.
“She was,” I confirmed, grinning as I looked back at my friend.
“I knew it.” She dropped her sandwich, grabbed the shake.
Tiffany Lortimer was one of my two closest friends in the world. For the most part, we were inseparable. Between her and Jonah, I had absolutely no secrets.
Her voice was strangely soft when she asked, “Are you still a virgin?”
I couldn’t help it. I blushed.
I completely understood the disbelief my two best friends expressed when they talked about the fact I still proudly carried my V-card. This day and age, it was unusual for a twenty-four-year-old woman to not have been in some sort of physical relationship with a man or two. It was true, nonetheless. Not only had I not had intercourse with a man, I also hadn’t done anything else. No beneath-the-clothes groping in the dark, no oral sex. Most people probably wouldn’t buy that I’d never even been kissed, but it was true, too. The one time Billy Boyd snuck up on me and smacked his lips on my cheek during my senior year of high school did not count.
As far as I was concerned, there were two reasons I was still a virgin: First of all, my brother was none other than the ruthless Sadist who could melt lesser men with a simple look. While my brother’s intimidation factor helped, I wasn’t giving him all the credit. I was, after all, a smart woman and I could make decisions for myself. Who I slept with was certainly a decision I wouldn’t be taking lightly. Secondly, I hadn’t found the guy I wanted to give it up to yet.
Evidently basing my answer on my reaction, Tiffany shook her head. “Well, that’s too bad.”
I took a huge bite of my sandwich to avoid blurting out that I honestly hoped Edge and Cav would be the ones to take it in the very near future.
There were some things a girl needed to keep to herself.
Although our classes didn’t align well, our schedules always seemed to. Like me, Tiffany was pursuing her doctorate in psychology, a major she’d chosen after she’d taken a psychology class her freshman year. We actually met on campus, in a study group. We’d become fast friends, along with Jonah Watson, another student in that study group. It hadn’t taken long to realize how much the three of us had in common, and since then, we’d spent countless hours in each other’s company.
�
��What’s his name?”
“Gregory Edge,” I said, not bothering to pretend not to know who she was talking about.
“Master Edge,” she said dreamily. “Has a nice ring to it.”
That it did.
Tiffany leaned closer. “Did he spank you?”
I laughed through my embarrassment. “No, he did not.”
“Too bad.”
“We talked,” I explained. “He showed me around. His friend showed up and the three of us wandered the club together.”
She pointed a French fry at me. “He has a friend?”
“I’m sure he has a lot of friends.” I grabbed the Coke we were sharing.
“Is he single?”
“Yes.” I didn’t bother to tell her that I was also interested in him. I couldn’t. Not yet.
“Did you guys talk about sexy things?”
“We did.” I went on to explain how I’d mentioned that I was working on my dissertation, and that I needed their help. I didn’t go into detail about the theme room or the way Edge had gone all alpha on me. I was still trying to wrap my head around that myself.
“So they agreed to help you with your paper?”
I nodded. “They agreed to let me get a glimpse into BDSM.”
“You’re so lucky. Why didn’t I do something on human sexuality?” she asked absently. “You get to have all the fun.”
This coming from the girl who’d had at least one date a week for the past couple of years.
Okay, maybe not that many, but Tiffany certainly had a more active social life than I did. Despite the fact she was frequently going out with men, she wasn’t interested in settling down. According to her, she was playing the field. And though one date a week would equate to roughly fifty-two men per year, Tiffany was extremely discriminating when it came to who she slept with.
“How’s Mark?” I asked, referring to the only man she allowed herself to be intimate with. According to Tiffany, they were friends with benefits and mutually exclusive when it came to sex. She insisted that it was safer that way.
I had to agree with her. I liked Mark. He was a nice guy, but he certainly wasn’t the type of guy I would see Tiffany with in the long run.
She smiled dreamily. “He’s good. He came over last night.” She grinned widely. “We spent some time studying.”
Did I mention Mark O’Conner was a professor at the school? Well, he was, and Tiffany was enjoying the time she spent with him.
“Of course you did.” I wrapped up the other half of my sandwich, tucking it back into the bag. I would save it for dinner since my classes ran late on Monday night.
“When are you going back to the club?”
I shrugged, finished off what she left me of the chocolate shake. “Don’t know.”
“Are you seeing Master Edge again?” The way she said his name all breathless made it sound like a taboo relationship.
“He wants to get together,” I explained. “To assess whether or not I’m a good fit for his training class.”
Tiffany slapped her hands on the table. “Shut. Up.”
I giggled, loving her reaction.
“You’re gonna be a submissive?”
I offered another shrug. “Not sure yet. He has to make that decision.”
“Oh, my God. You’re so lucky.” Her eyes shot across the food court to the clock on the wall. “Damn it. I have to get back.”
When she started to gather up the trash, I waved her off. “Go,” I insisted. “I’ve got this.”
Tiffany nodded, grabbed the Coke as she stood. “You’ve got class tonight, right?”
I nodded.
“Text me tomorrow. We need to get together with Jonah so you can give him all the juicy details. He’ll go nuts.”
“I will,” I assured her as she was walking off.
As I watched my friend leave, I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face, my thoughts drifting back to Edge and Cav, to Friday night. I’d heard from Cav on Saturday, a few short texts completely innocent in nature. I’d been thinking about texting him again but figured I didn’t want to appear too eager.
Unfortunately, I hadn’t heard from Edge yet. I was waiting, hoping. Strangely, I was enjoying the anticipation, because for the first time in a very long time, I had something to look forward to.
CAV
ZEKE LAUTNER WAS A GIANT OF A man. Six foot eight, probably close to three hundred pounds of solid muscle, not to mention the sinister glare that seemed to be his default expression. I could see how he intimidated people.
However, since I was on the path to working for the man, my main objective was to keep us on an even keel. I wasn’t the sort who was easily intimidated, and I think he figured that out early on in our interview when we’d engaged in a few minutes of small talk. What did I think of the Chicago traffic? It sucked. How long had I been back? A couple of days. Was I interested in working for Chatter? Yes, I was.
Since then, we’d moved on, but I could sense this was the part of the interview Zeke wasn’t all that comfortable with. As of yet, he hadn’t delved too deeply into my past experience, but I got the feeling he was trying to work around to it.
“You ever manage people?” he asked casually, leaning back in the leather executive chair.
We were sitting in a conference room that held at least fifteen people, just the two of us. He had prefaced the interview by telling me I’d be meeting with a couple of the partners, but I had yet to see anyone other than him.
“I have,” I told him, although he would’ve seen that if he’d looked at my resume.
“Did you enjoy it?”
“Managing people?” I asked, more to give me time to formulate an answer than from a need for him to clarify.
“Yeah.”
“I don’t mind it.”
“How many have you managed?”
“A team of five was the largest,” I admitted.
“How do you feel about fifteen?”
Before I could answer, there was a quick rap on the door. It opened without a response from Zeke. We were joined by a well-dressed black man with a bald head and eyes that were bright against his dark skin. I recognized him instantly.
“Ben Snowden,” he introduced himself, not bothering to wait for Zeke to say anything.
I pushed to my feet, shook his hand. “Nice to see you again.”
Ben studied me momentarily, then grinned, his white teeth flashing. “Cav. I didn’t recognize you without the hat.” He motioned toward my chair as he moved around the table. “Please. Sit.”
Straightforward and efficient, that was how I remembered Ben. Seemed he was still that way.
I eased back into my chair, dividing my attention between the two of them as they sat across from me.
“Sorry I’m late,” Ben said. “I had a meeting that ran long.”
“We were talking about him managing people,” Zeke explained. “Said he can do it.”
Ben smiled, staring down at a sheet of paper in a folder he’d brought with him. A quick peek at it told me he was looking at my resume.
“Says you graduated from Columbia, then went on to be a police officer?” Ben looked up.
Since he didn’t ask why the career choice, I answered with a simple, “I was.”
He glanced down again. “For six years. Why’d you leave law enforcement?”
I leaned back in my chair, relaxed as much as I could. This topic generally had my insides churning, but I knew it was unavoidable.
“I was shot,” I told him straight. “My partner was killed.”
Ben’s expression softened. “I’m sorry to hear that. How old was he?”
“Four,” I told him.
Understanding dawned on his face. “Canine.”
“Correct.”
“That sucks,” Zeke muttered. It was possibly the first time I’d heard a sympathetic tone from the man.
“He’s got a dog,” Ben explained. “Probably close to the same age?” he asked Zeke.
“
Yeah. His name’s Tank.” Zeke’s dark eyes locked on my face. “What happened?”
I went on to explain the night in question. I’d been called in for a search of a suspect who’d just robbed a local convenience store. After half an hour of trekking through a wooded area, Kano and I came upon the suspect hiding in a pile of brush. After I ordered him to stay put or be bitten, the man had decided fleeing was the appropriate response to my order. He ran, Kano ran. My partner tackled him seconds before a shot sounded.
“I watched Kano fall,” I explained, the pain from the memory eating away at my gut. “I didn’t think at that point, just started to run. My only thought was to save him.” Pain hit me square in the chest as the words tumbled out. “That was when the suspect fired at me. He hit me three times. In the shoulder, the arm, and the gut.” Phantom pains ghosted through me as I relived it. “I shot him, killed him.”
“That fucking sucks,” Zeke bit out through gritted teeth. “Fucking sucks.”
Yeah. That about summed it up. Although the surgeons had managed to save my life, no one had saved Kano. I had mourned the loss throughout the year it had taken to recover physically. To this day, I hadn’t completely gotten over losing him. Wasn’t sure I ever would.
“I decided it was time to retire,” I told them.
“Can’t say I blame you,” Ben said, his voice reflecting his sympathy. He peered down at my resume for a moment before looking back at me. “You’ve hopped around a few times since then.”
I nodded.
“Four companies in the past five years.” He folded his hands on his flat stomach. “Are you looking to settle?”
“I am,” I admitted, glancing over at Zeke. “I’ve got the experience you’re looking for. I’ve got the drive to assist in building this division. And I don’t have an issue managing people.”
Zeke sat up, placed his elbows on the table. “I’ll be the first to admit, I’m not all that great with people. I am, however, damn good at what I do. You’d be responsible for managing the team, hiring, firing, that sort of thing. I’ll oversee, handle my own clients, and work with you to expand.” His eyes narrowed. “But I need to know you’ll stick around.”
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