by Ivy Nelson
The rest of the meeting went by swiftly as there was little to address. They had covered most of it in the regular monthly meeting last weekend. Thankfully, nobody gave Lance shit about his ex-girlfriend being in the building.
In the lobby, they scattered, with some heading upstairs to their suites and others leaving for dinner.
Elijah went upstairs to his wife and Lance headed for the office to check on Marissa.
“Hey,” she said, pulling off her headphones when he came in. “Do you want to go get some dinner and talk?”
He lifted an eyebrow. That was a surprising turn of events.
“Yeah sure, let’s go. You can stay at the Glenview tonight and we’ll sort out your arrangements here tomorrow or after the weekend is done.”
She nodded and slipped her computer into her bag. “Sounds good.”
Outside, Lance watched from his own car as Marissa climbed into her driver’s seat and started the engine. With Samuel missing and Marissa Sullivan back in his life, it had definitely turned into a very strange day. He wasn’t quite sure what to do with it all.
5
Marissa followed Lance until he pulled into the parking lot of a hole-in-the wall burger place. He was loaded with more money than she could ever hope to have, so the choice surprised her. Of course, the small town probably didn’t have much in the way of fancy restaurants.
At the counter, he insisted on paying for their burgers and beers, claiming it was part of her compensation. They were paying her more than double her annual salary, there was no way they needed to buy her food too, but Lance wouldn’t take no for an answer.
Marissa looked around for an empty table and found one in the corner. She stopped at the drink station and filled her glass with lemonade while Lance opted for water. They would both wait until their burgers arrived to open their beers.
At the table, they sat and stared at each other both unsure what to say.
“So…” she said hesitantly. “You sure you don’t mind me being here?”
“You sure you don’t mind being here?” he countered.
She leaned back and sipped her lemonade. “I’ve been thinking a lot about that. It’s definitely awkward. I spent a lot of time processing what happened with us and I thought I was over it. But seeing you has definitely stirred up some negative feelings.”
Lance lifted one eyebrow. “You were never one to talk about your feelings. What’s up with that?”
Marissa gave a curt laugh. “Five years of therapy?”
He cocked his head to one side. “Really? I thought you hated therapists.”
“I had to do something. I was in a bleak place. You accused me of stealing code and using it for nefarious purposes, Lance. You kicked me out without hearing my side of the story. You think that isn’t going to fuck me up? Because it did. It really did. Especially given the connection we had.”
“What was I supposed to do, Marissa? The code in that attack had your signature all over it. I thought I knew your coding style forward and backwards. I’m not proud of how I reacted, but how would you have reacted had the roles been reversed?”
She picked at the paper napkin in front of her. “I’d like to think I would have at least asked some fucking questions first. I couldn’t get work for almost a year. I finally landed at the law firm because it’s all I could get.”
“Even after I caught the real hacker? I did my best to restore your standing in the community. And why did you disappear from the Chicago BDSM scene? Was that my fault too?”
“By the time you caught the hacker I was blacklisted from virtually every major tech firm and the little guys wouldn’t touch me either. I did some odds and ends for people. By the time I started getting calls to come work in the industry again I was already at the law firm. I was drowning in debt, so it seemed wiser to stay where I was because it was a steady income. I finally got my loans paid off, so I’ve been moonlighting and saving money for my own startup. I’m ready to get back to software development again. Russell Adler hired me to do some work for him. God, I’m such an idiot.”
Lance leaned across the table. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, the phones he gives his crew. The encryption on them. That’s yours. How did I not recognize it until now?”
“I’m impressed you still recognize my work at all.”
She smiled. “Some of the best.”
“I notice you didn’t answer my question about the scene.”
She looked away. “I couldn’t face that group of people without you, without your collar. To them we were a pair. I belonged to you. It didn’t seem like I would fit if that weren’t the case anymore.”
“I’m sorry, Marissa. I really am. I don’t expect you to forgive me. I just wanted you to hear the words face to face.”
She gave him a half grin. “It’s good to finally hear it.”
The buzzer they’d been given buzzed and flashed and vibrated the table.
“Saved by the bell,” Lance murmured as he jumped up to get their food. When he returned, Marissa did her best to put on a cheery face and dug into her food. She felt a bit lighter having received an apology from Lance, but she wasn’t quite ready to let the past go.
They ate and talked about advances in technology in the last five years. The conversation soon moved to computer code, the thing they often did together.
“Are you still a neat freak?” she asked as she bit into a burger.
He shook his head. “Really? You want to go there, little miss I annotate nothing when I code.”
Her mouth fell open. “That is such a load of bullshit. I annotate everything. Just not to your exacting standards. It’s like you have OCD or something.”
He let out a low growl and for a moment, she thought he was going to come across the table and either kiss her or strangle her.
“You are damn infuriating,” he murmured as he took a pull off his beer.
“I’m infuriating? At least I don’t leave passive aggressive messages about the state of your code.” She winced. Her voice was louder than she’d intended and customers around her stared.
He leaned back and folded his arms across his chest. “I seem to remember my ‘neat freak’ ways saving our asses a time or two.”
Marissa felt her voice go up another octave as she spoke. “We clearly have very different memories of the past.”
“Still have beef with MIT?” she asked, purposely changing to a topic she knew would ruffle his feathers.
He lifted his middle finger in her direction and called her a bitch just as a waitress came by to check on them. She scurried away when she saw the look on Lance’s face.
His fist clenched around his beer and she thought he might shatter the bottle. OK maybe that wasn’t such a smart idea.
A minute later, the manager approached their table with to-go boxes in hand.
“I’m terribly sorry, but you’re making some of my employees and other patrons a bit uncomfortable with the language you’re using. It might be better if you took your food to go.”
Marissa gaped at the man, but Lance simply pulled a twenty out of his wallet and handed it to the manager. “Apologize to the waitress for us. We’ll get out of your hair.”
He efficiently boxed up both of their plates and stood, motioning for her to do the same.
“There you go getting us kicked out of a restaurant again,” Lance said as they stepped outside with their to-go boxes. “I didn’t even get to finish my beer.”
Marissa giggled. The fight had been invigorating and somehow just like old times. The only difference being the last time she’d had that public of an argument with Lance she’d ended her night tied to his bed screaming out her apologies for yelling at him, while he drove her body mad with a combination of pleasure and pain.
She did her best to squash the memory, but she knew it would follow her home.
When they said goodnight, Lance headed toward Solitaire, and Marissa drove the short distance back to the Glenview.
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Isabelle was at the desk talking on the phone, but she gave Marissa a wave and a friendly smile as she walked through the lobby. Marissa just nodded.
In the elevator, she leaned against the wall and closed her eyes. It had been a long weird day. Hopefully, she managed to get some sleep.
When she got to her room, she went into the bathroom. Earlier, she’d discovered a jacuzzi tub and she intended to take full advantage of it. It took a while to fill the massive tub up but when it was full, she sank into the water and pressed the silver button to start the jets.
As she laid her head back and let one jet pound into her lower back, her mind drifted to another night in a similar tub.
Lance held her in his lap, her back to his chest, forcing her legs wide. The jet from the tub pulsed against her over sensitized clit and she writhed against him trying to escape the sensation.
“Stop moving, love. I want you to feel it. Let it wash over you. But don’t come. Not yet,” he murmured in her ear. One hand drifted from her thigh up to her nipple and squeezed as he nipped at her bare wet neck.
“Ah, God,” she cried. “Make it stop, please. I just want an orgasm.”
“And I’m not ready to give you one. Patience, Riss.”
There had been another ten minutes of torture before he let her have her orgasm. As she pulled herself back into the present, she realized her hand was between her thighs. Disgusted with herself, she pulled her hand out of the water and turned the jets off. There was no way she was masturbating to thoughts of Lance Moss dominating her. That ship sailed a long time ago.
When the water cooled, she stepped out and climbed in the shower to rinse off after pulling the plug on the tub. The cool air from the AC made her nipples hard when she stepped into the bedroom for clothes. At least she told herself that’s what caused the reaction. Slipping into bed, she pulled up her favorite bondage porn site. Maybe she didn’t want to masturbate to thoughts of Lance, but that didn’t mean she would deny herself pleasure.
6
Lance woke from dreams of Marissa, something that hadn’t happened in years. But he also woke disturbed. So far, his attempts to locate Samuel had been fruitless.
After checking his phone hoping to hear from him, he rolled out of bed and trudged to the shower where he tried to wash the intense dreams away.
As he turned the water off, he heard his phone vibrating against the nightstand. Grabbing a towel off the rack, he wrapped it around his waist and jogged into the bedroom hoping it was Samuel calling to check in.
It was Isabelle.
“Hello?”
“Master Lance, are you at Solitaire? I need some help.”
Her voice sounded like she’d been crying.
“What’s wrong sweetie?”
“I’m trying to get to work from my sister’s place and there are news vans parked in front of my house.”
Lance felt his blood run cold as he tugged on a pair of boxers. Had the video anonymously emailed to him been leaked?
“I tried calling Master Hunter but he’s not answering, and Garrett is on a plane to get to me. Probably asleep because he worked all night.”
He pulled jeans and a t-shirt out of the small dresser and laid them on the bed. “Have you looked at the news? Can you tell what they want? I’ll be there as soon as I can. In the meantime, stay away from the windows and keep the doors locked. They probably won’t try to come inside, but you never know.”
When he ended the call, he dressed then dialed Marissa’s number.
“Are you still at the Glenview?” he asked when she answered.
“I am. What’s up?”
“Look out your window. Are there news vans?”
Marissa was quiet. “Why would there be news vans?” she asked after a moment.
“Just do it please. It’s not about you. It’s Isabelle.”
Marissa huffed but he heard her moving. “Sure enough,” she said, a tremble in her voice. “What’s going on?”
"Part of the reason we called you in is that Garrett and Isabelle were almost outed. Now I'm afraid the anonymous video sent to me was in fact leaked to the media. This could end Garrett's political career and make Isabelle's life harder than it needs to be."
He could hear the sounds of Marissa getting dressed.
"What do you want me to do? How do I help?"
"I'm heading to rescue Isabelle now. Can you scan the news and see if you can find the story? You know how I feel about interfering with the fourth estate, but if they were to have trouble broadcasting the story, I wouldn't be upset," he said as he slipped his feet into a pair of loafers.
"Understood," she said. The line went dead. Even when they were together, she rarely said goodbye, so this was no surprise.
With his tech bag slung over his shoulder, he jogged down the stairs and out the front door.
Driving down the hill, he prayed they hadn't found the gate to Solitaire. The place wasn't exactly a secret thanks to publicity when they first opened, but they didn't broadcast the location anywhere either.
In the car, he turned on his Bluetooth headset and called Isabelle.
"I'm in the car now. How are you doing?"
She sounded nervous when she answered. "I'm OK. I'm just really worried for Garrett. I'm too scared to turn on the news and see what they're saying."
Lance reached the gate and was relieved not to see anyone waiting with a camera.
"That's probably for the best sweetie. I'm on my way."
"Can you drive by the warehouse before you get here? It's on the way. I just don't want Garrett getting ambushed."
"Sure thing. I'll be there as soon as possible. In the meantime, I have Marissa digging into what the media knows and she'll have a plan for a diversion to get them out of your driveway for now."
"Thank you," she whispered. "We're keeping my sister's girls home from school today. There's no way to get them out the door without going through the throng of reporters out there."
"I need to hang up now, sweetie. But I promise I'm on my way."
When he ended the call, he flipped on a local news station to see if any of them were carrying a story. After ten minutes of listening, he heard nothing, so he called Marissa.
"I don't have anything yet. I'm looking through e-mails at the Gazette right now."
"I'm going to pretend you didn't just tell me that you hacked into a newspaper's e-mail server."
"Probably for the best. I always was a little more black-hat than you." He heard her fingers flying over the keyboard. The sound brought him some sense of calm as his thoughts were racing through every worst-case scenario that might play out.
"Shit," she whispered a moment later as the clacking noise stopped.
"What?" he asked as he rolled through a stop sign with only a tap on his breaks.
"I found the video. Let me see if I can trace it to the same account that e-mailed it to you. They definitely have it. I don't see any copy for a story in anyone's box yet. If there are multiple news vans at Isabelle's house my guess would be it got sent to several news agencies. I'll call you back."
The line went dead again.
"God damn it," he said into the empty car.
As he drove, he called Eli but got no answer. He was at Solitaire but him and Holly were probably still asleep. They did a lot of business with people in other time zones around the world and kept odd hours as a result.
Next, he called Russell.
"Morning. What's up?" the man asked between deep ragged breaths.
"You sound like you're running."
"Morning workout. What's going on?"
"It looks like the video that outs Garrett and Isabelle as a part of Solitaire got into the hands of the press. I'm on my way to Isabelle's now because the media is camped outside her house. They're also outside the Glenview and I have a feeling I'll find them at the warehouse too. Can you get security back on Isabelle? Garrett is asleep on a plane from Philadelphia so we can't get in touch with him yet."
"Yep," Lance said as he switched his blinker on.
"Might have her pack a bag and just go ahead and plan to camp out there. We'll talk to Hunter about getting someone to fill in for her at the hotel."
Lance blew out a breath as he spotted a single news van in the parking lot of Garrett's Colorado warehouse.
"One news van at the warehouse," he said.
"I'll bring Isabelle to the club."
"Good deal," Russell said. "Talk soon."
He used his voice activated GPS to guide him the rest of the way to Isabelle’s. Instead of pulling into the driveway, he drove past the house and flipped around as he scanned the small crowd that had gathered. It all seemed to be local news stations so far, but it probably wouldn’t be long before word got out that one of the president’s advisors was involved which meant it would go national.
“Fuck,” he swore again as he slowed and pulled into the driveway. As he did, two black SUVs pulled in behind him and four men he recognized as bodyguards—two from each car—piled out. One of them knocked on his window and he rolled it down.
“You Lance?” the man asked.
“That’s me. How do we get her out of the house?”
“We’re under orders to put her in your car and follow you back up to the ski lodge. We’ll park a detail here to make sure things don’t get out of hand and we’ll work out a plan to move the family somewhere else by this evening.”
He nodded to show he understood. Solitaire was an old ski resort and he noticed the guard was careful not to say the club’s name. That meant he’d at least been briefed by Russell.
“Can you call her and let her know we’re coming in?”
He picked up his phone and dialed Isabelle’s number.
“Hey sweetie, Russell sent some men over. They’re going to escort you out and come back for your family once we have a place to put them. You’ll ride with me back to the club.”
“OK. Thank you,” she whispered.
