“I can come over and take a look at it.”
“No, baby. You have someone else you want to be with.”
After she hung up, her words stuck with me. Even though I hated to admit it, she was right. I did want to be with him. Just being around him made me feel…safe. So how did I tell him that? How did I put into words how he made me feel, and how much I wanted to give us a chance? I was sure of one thing; this wasn’t something I could do over the phone. I needed to see him, and give it one last try, before I could walk away for good.
Day 19
Parking across the street from Garrett’s red-bricked office building, I checked my makeup in the rearview mirror while attempting to summon my courage. I had spent the morning debating on either going to his home or office, and had settled on his office. I hoped that being under the scrutiny of his staff would make it easier to get him to listen to me. As I stood from my car, my eyes immediately went to his line of old-fashioned windows on the second floor. It was hard to tell if the lights were on or off in the morning glare. I knew if he was there, he saw me coming.
Heading across the busy street, I stepped beneath the black canopy over the entrance and squared my shoulders, ready for a confrontation. Once inside the beige reception area with its numerous pictures of stylish homes, the blue-eyed receptionist observed me with her silver wire-rimmed glasses and smiled.
“Hello, Ms. Palmer, welcome back.” Her friendly demeanor came across as genuine. In spite of that, the pessimist in me assumed that she had been warned I might show up and start trouble.
“Ah, hi. Could I see Mr. Hughes?” I asked, tightly twisting the strap of my leather bag in my hands.
“I’m sorry, Ms. Palmer.” The blonde receptionist gave me a wary frown. “He called earlier, and said he would be out for the next few days.”
“Out?” This definitely put a kink in my plans. “Do you know out where? Is something wrong?”
“I’m not sure,” she admitted. “He just said something came up, and I was to forward all of his calls to his cell phone.”
“Thank you.” I nodded, thinking of a better idea. “I should go,” I said, backing away from her desk.
“If he calls, do you want me to give him a message?” the lovely woman inquired.
I went to the glass door at the entrance. “No, I’ll tell him myself,” I asserted before heading outside.
Pulling my keys from my purse, I darted across Camp Street to my car. There was one other place left to go before giving up. I only hoped he opened the door when he discovered it was me.
* * *
I was in the dimly lit hallway on the top floor of his building, standing before the red door to his penthouse. My fist was positioned over the door, ready to knock. I hesitated, not sure if this was the right way to handle things. I was also worried as hell about what was going on with him. If he was ill, he would need me, or if he was working, I might only be in his way. Sick of vacillating between the two possible outcomes, I finally banged on the door. After a few loud knocks, I waited. No one answered. I pounded again and listened for movement on the other side of the door, but did not hear any. After a few unsettling minutes, the reality that he wasn’t home hit me. I did not know where he was, or when I would have another chance to set things right. Even if he returned in a few days, I wasn’t sure if I would still have the courage or motivation to confront him. This had been my golden opportunity, and it had passed me by.
Leaning my head against his door, I reasoned that fate was trying to tell me to get on with my life and leave Garrett Hughes behind. I should heed the message and go home.
Back in the elevator, I went over the time I had spent with Garrett. A photo album of moments with him ran across my mind like a hurried wedding video. We had been good together at times, bad at others. There was something about being with the man that had not only challenged me, it had soothed my soul. He was comfortable. From the moment we met, I had been able to say anything, or do anything, around him and knew I was accepted. I had never had a great deal of experience interacting with people, but I knew enough to understand that kind of contentment was rare.
By the time I slipped behind my steering wheel, I was convinced that Garrett was unique. I had told him once that he was larger than life to me, and he was. My mother had been right. Garrett had cracked the surface, and wormed his way to my very core. How could I rid myself of such a man?
The debate raged in my head during the entire drive to my apartment on Esplanade Avenue. When I pulled in front of the old mansion, my questions abated and my heart plummeted as I spotted the black Lincoln Town Car parked out front.
Garrett had said he would be able to handle Mabel. Perhaps that was not the case. I contemplated staying in my car and driving away, thinking I could avoid the inevitable. Instantly, I thought of Garrett. If she was coming after me, then possibly she had already gone after him.
Imbued with worry for Garrett’s safety, I quickly climbed from my car. As soon as I approached the black car, the gray-haired gentleman who had driven me the night of the ceremony stood from the driver’s side. He lowered his sunglasses and looked over the top of the car to me.
“Ms. Bergeron requests your presence, Ms. Palmer.”
Taking in the busy street, I searched for witnesses. “Requests or demands?”
The driver, dressed in his usual black suit, came around to the passenger side door and opened it. “Respectfully requests,” he replied, holding the door open.
Taking one last look at my home, I was flooded with apprehension about ever seeing it again. Returning my gaze to the driver, I nodded my head.
“If Ms. Bergeron requests it….” I slinked into the back seat.
The driver shut my door and the dull thud made me flinch. Quashing my fear, I fought to stay sharp and thought only of Garrett. Whatever was going on, I had to make sure I did everything I could to help him.
* * *
After being promptly delivered to Mabel’s lavish pink Garden District home, I stood before her oak doorway, my palms sweating and my stomach tied in knots. Why did I suddenly feel like a fugitive? The smell of blooming gardenias from the gardens next to the grand porch rose up to greet me, making me nauseous. Above, the two black cast-iron lanterns swung back and forth in the stiff late morning breeze.
“Well, there she is,” Mabel greeted in an unusual, almost grandmotherly way. “Glad Felix got you here in one piece.”
“Felix?” I asked, gazing about the porch.
“My driver.” She waved me inside. “Get your butt in here. We need to talk.”
I scooted inside the door and was a little put off by Mabel’s outfit. Gone were the heavy velvet gowns I had come to associate with her. Wearing a lavender muumuu with silver slippers and carrying a small white Chihuahua in her arms, she was nothing like the imposing monitor of the De Sade Club. Even her face seemed older, and her voice sounded softer than I remembered.
“This is Elvis,” she said, lifting the Chihuahua in the air. “Little bugger is blind and almost deaf, so I have to carry him everywhere.”
Screaming erupted in the background. It was not the horrific calls of some woman in pain or terror, but the happy squeals of children playing that echoed about the home.
“Ya’ll behave back there!” Mabel yelled into the house. She turned to me, shaking her head. “Three of my grandchildren are visiting today. My daughter-in-law dumped them on me, so she could get her hair done.”
I stood, a little mystified, wondering how she was going to question me with her grandchildren darting about. “Your grandchildren are here?”
She shrugged, petting Elvis. “The club is only something I do in the evenings when my family is not around…except for Colin, of course.” She moved into her grand foyer. “He’s the only one of my three boys not married, and the most spoiled.”
I followed as she waddled deeper into her home. Expecting to go to the dark green parlor, I was surprised when at the hall she turned left instead
of going straight.
We soon entered a bright kitchen with glass cabinets framed in pine, a deep white ceramic sink, black granite countertops, and black appliances. In the corner, a black gourmet stove with six burners and two ovens stood shining beneath the overhead lights. Mabel waved me to a chair at the black iron breakfast table to the side.
After taking my seat, Mabel handed Elvis to me. The little dog didn’t seem the least bit bothered by the change and curled up in my lap.
“I thought it was time you and I had a conversation about Garrett,” Mabel began, as she traipsed across the kitchen to her built-in refrigerator. “He paid me a visit last night.”
I stroked the soft white fur of the dog. “Was his visit respectfully requested like mine?”
She chuckled, a throaty laugh that reminded me more of the woman I had seen in the club. “No. He came to see me. He said he wanted to talk to me about you.” She opened the refrigerator door and pulled out a pitcher of iced tea. “He was very adamant that you were pulled from any further involvement with the club. He wanted me to tell the other members that you were no longer interested in participating, and to assure them that he would vouch for your discretion.”
I pensively rested my hand on Elvis’s back, and the dog raised his head curiously. “What did you say?”
“Say?” She shrugged and carried the pitcher to her counter. “Nothing to say. You want out, that’s fine with me.”
“Then why am I here?”
Mabel reached into a cabinet filled with a hodgepodge of glasses. “I needed to hear that from you, and not him.” She placed two tall iced tea glasses on the black granite countertop. “When he brought you here, I immediately recognized you from your books.” She turned to me. “Love your books, by the way. I’m a fan.”
I shook my head, more than a little astounded. “Why didn’t you say anything before?”
Mabel filled the two glasses with tea. “I was curious if your reasons for being with Garrett were genuine, or merely for a storyline in another book. I got my answer that first night when I watched you with him. For a sub he was training, you were awfully uncomfortable with the entire situation.”
“Then why insist I come back for that ceremony?” I waited as she brought the two glasses of tea to the table. “Why not tell Garrett not to bring me back?”
Mabel slid a glass of tea in front of me. “Because I saw the way he looked at you, Lexie. You don’t mind if I call you Lexie, do you? Garrett said you preferred it to Alexandra.” She put her glass down and took Elvis from my lap. “Come to Momma, baby.” Cuddling the dog against her ample bosom, she appeared tender and caring.
“How did you get into this, Mrs. Bergeron?”
“It’s Mabel, Lexie. I’m only Mrs. Bergeron to attorneys and bankers. To everyone else, I’m Mabel.” She sat back in her chair as Elvis settled in her lap. “My husband, Max, started the club years ago. He called it a gentleman’s club. Well, it didn’t take me long to discover there was nothing gentlemanly about it. So I insisted on sitting in on a few meetings. Soon I was helping Max run it, setting up rules, and after his death a few years ago, took it over completely.” Smiling at me, she lifted her tea. “We’re good at games and wearing masks in New Orleans. That’s why my club works for a lot of important people. They also like discretion, which I give them.”
I ran my fingers along the rim of my tall glass. “I can assure you, Mabel, that there won’t be anything about you or your members in my book.”
“Garrett already told me that he has read it, and insisted that all identities are safe. He even promised a copy…if he ever returns.”
“What do you mean returns?”
“If he returns to New Orleans.” She patted Elvis’s little white head. “When he came to see me, it was to withdraw from the club. He was heading back to Dallas to talk to his boss about finding his replacement for the firm in the city. He said his job here was done.”
I covered my mouth with my hand, hiding my shock. I had never planned on that scenario. I had envisioned anger, resentment, even distancing himself from me for a time. I never imagined him packing up and leaving New Orleans for good.
She leaned forward in her chair, studying my reaction. “He didn’t tell you, did he?”
I lowered my hand from my mouth to my glass. “No. I went to his office and apartment today to speak to him, but….” I took a needed gulp from my tea, wishing for something stronger.
“I see.” Mabel’s green eyes carefully inspected me, as if trying to read my inner workings. She sat quietly petting her dog, as I fidgeted in my chair and drank from my glass. “When you first came to my club, how much did you know of bondage and Doms?” she eventually probed.
“Nothing really.” I put my glass down on the smooth surface of the table. “Garrett had told me some.”
“You have to understand that the roles we play in my club, Dom and sub, master and slave, are no different from roles we play in real life. We’re all into bondage in a way. We’re bound to families, jobs, governments, the IRS.” She chuckled. “Even love is its own kind of bondage, because we will do anything for those we love. Like you would do anything for Garrett.”
My eyes flew to hers, and then I lowered them to the table. “Love? I’m not in love with him, and he certainly—”
A scurrying of running feet and giggling from the hall beyond the kitchen door interrupted me. Mabel stood from her chair and handed Elvis back to me. I placed the little furry white dog in my lap, and he curled back into a ball and went to sleep.
“Stop running in the house, or there will be no cookies later!” Mabel shouted into the hallway.
There were a few more giggles, and the sound of running feet quickly grew fainter. When she came back to the table, Mabel was shaking her head.
“I love the little shits, but sometimes they try my patience.” Easing her round figure into her chair, she let out a long sigh. “When you have children, Lexie, make sure they heed you. If not, you will have to resort to blackmail like me.”
“I don’t think kids are in my future. I was married once, and that ended pretty badly.”
“So Garrett told me. Now you have another chance with him.” Mabel’s eyes returned to me, and the hardness I had always detected in them was gone.
I dropped my gaze to Elvis. “I don’t have a chance with Garrett. I don’t think I ever did.”
Mabel’s raucous laugh bounced about the kitchen, making Elvis raise his head and look around. “Oh, honey, you have him, all right. Until he met you, Garrett Hughes was an elite master, who excelled at manipulating others to give in to his demands. He could have taken any woman of his choosing to that claiming ceremony and made her submit, but not you. When he said he wasn’t going to take you on that stage, I knew he had fallen in love with you. Love is dangerous for any Dom. It’s even more devastating for an elite master like Garrett. He’s no longer his own man; he’s yours.” She leaned forward, grinning. “I told you before to be careful with the power you had over him. Now what are you going to do with it?”
“Do?” I demanded. “What is there to do? He’s gone back to Dallas. I think it’s pretty clear the life he has chosen, Mabel, and I’m not a part of it.”
She stood from her chair. “Life is what we we’re given, Lexie. Living is what we make of it. So why don’t you go after that man and start living?”
Day 20
The heat of the midday sun was already beating down on the sidewalk, as I stood at the glass entrance to the Renaissance Tower in downtown Dallas. A fifty-six story modern skyscraper, the sleek glass and steel structure shimmered in the bright sunlight.
Reaching for the brass door handle at one of the entrances to the building, my nervous stomach fluttered. This had to be one of the craziest things I had ever done. While making my way across the gray and silver lobby, I questioned what I was doing in Dallas. After meeting with Mabel, I decided that I had nothing to lose. Now I was having second thoughts. Determined to press on, I st
epped inside the finely paneled elevator and punched the button to the thirty-third floor; home of Parr and Associates.
As the car made its slow ascent, I picked away specks of lint from my black slacks. I had done a quick retouch of my makeup in the taxi from Dallas Love Field, yet somehow, I felt it wasn’t enough. Shouldn’t a woman be dazzling when she goes to profess her feelings to a man?
When I exited the elevator on the thirty-third floor, I followed a pale beige hallway until I came to the glass entrance to the Parr and Associates. The two front doors were trimmed in dark wood and covered with a logo of a black rooftop, which covered the name of the firm written in red.
The reception area was done in alternating shades of brown and beige, with a burgundy Oriental rug and overstuffed leather furniture. On the walls were various framed pictures of large mansions I assumed were in the Dallas area.
When I approached a cherry-stained reception desk, a dumpy receptionist wearing a frumpy blue dress glared up at me.
“Can I help you?” she said without a hint of charm in her twangy voice.
It was at moments like this I missed the friendliness of the people in New Orleans. “Yes, I’m here to see Garrett Hughes,” I replied, trying to curtail the shaking in my voice.
“Mr. Hughes works at our New Orleans branch.”
“Yes, I know that.” I put on a tolerant smile. “I’m from New Orleans and was told he was in Dallas.”
Her brown eyes scrunched together. “And you came here to see him?”
“Yes, I did.” My patience was wearing thin. “Can you find him for me, please?”
“I don’t think he’s here, Miss,” she contended. “I haven’t seen him.”
Flustered, I caught a glimpse of the name Hayden Parr above one of the framed pictures of a mansion to the side of the reception desk. I turned my eyes back to the infuriating receptionist.
“What about Hayden Parr? Is he in?”
“Ah, yes. His office is on thirty-two. All the administration offices are on thirty-two…but I think he’s in a meeting.”
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