“You won.” Darcy’s amused pronouncement cut through the mental mist binding them together and separating them from the crowd. “Do you want me to untie you, or maybe you want to stay this way?”
Bree laughed. “You can untie us. It’ll be awkward in the bathroom.”
“It’s a portable potty. It’s awkward even when you’re alone.” Darcy tugged at the knot and had it quickly unwound. “Congratulations on the win. You’re in fourth place overall.”
They’d missed a game that had gone on during the corselet demonstration, but David didn’t care. “Thanks.” He never took his gaze from Bree. She put her hair back in place, covering the worst of the scar. This wasn’t the time to ask about it. “Hungry?”
“Yeah. A little.”
On the way to the buffet, Bree held his arm the way he’d instructed, but now her grasp seemed more like a caress. He filled a plate with foods he thought she’d like. “I’m going to feed you.”
He watched her struggle to not object. Feeding a submissive was an intimate experience for both of them. The rules she’d put in place were designed to keep distance between them, but he felt the kiss had shattered the miles. He led her to a table and guided her to a chair. Then he scooted his chair closer and repositioned her so that her legs draped over his. He hadn’t touched her anywhere she’d prohibited, yet he’d managed to create sensual intimacy.
Try as he might, he couldn’t think of a single thing to say while they ate. Each time he held a morsel of food to her mouth, he was mesmerized by the way her lips closed over the fork. Up close like this, he could see every light freckle dotting a path like stardust across her cheeks and nose. He wanted to tell her that she was beautiful, but the words stalled in his throat. He wanted to ask her about her shoulder and how she’d become involved in the lifestyle, but he knew she wouldn’t answer. She’d deflect or tell him that she didn’t talk about personal things with clients, and that would force a reality that would ruin the moment. And so they ate in silence, each watching the other and falling deeper into the precarious spell.
The rest of the night passed in a slow whirlwind of contests, demonstrations, and small talk. He made connections as well as he could with the agents at the party, and when he felt Bree rest her head against his arm, he knew the evening had come to a close. He walked her to her car.
“If you’re too tired to drive, I can give you a ride.”
She smiled, but there was nothing behind it. “I’ll be fine. I’ll stop at a drive-thru and grab some coffee.”
“At least let me give you my number so you can text me to let me know you got home safely.” He could find her number easily by looking through the CalderCo employee files or calling Dean, but she would be put off if he came on too strong.
Shaking her head, she managed a rueful smile. “I’ll be fine. I had fun tonight, and I hope you got what you needed. You seemed to get along well with the agents and the other Doms.”
He leaned against her door so she couldn’t open it. “I had fun with you. Bree, I’d like to see you again.”
She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, a nervous gesture that had him wondering whether he should come on stronger or back off. “That’s not possible. Look, you seem like a great guy. I’m sure you’ve made connections tonight, and eventually you’ll meet someone you click with.”
“We clicked.” He went with his strength—dominance. Tracing the same path her fingers had taken, he caressed her hair. “And you know it.”
“Dating a client is prohibited.”
He decided to call her bluff. “You don’t work for Beatrice, not officially. I know you’re friends, and that you came here with me as a favor to her.”
She nailed him with wariness in her green eyes. “I work for CalderCo, and you’ve been hired to start there next week. It’s best that we have a professional relationship and nothing else. Besides, I don’t date. I don’t have the time or energy to pursue a relationship. It’s not personal, David. Like I said, you seem like a great guy, but this isn’t going to happen.” Hand on the door, she stared expectantly, silently commanding him to move.
Going one step further, he opened the door. “I’m not conceding defeat, merely acknowledging that I’ll see you Monday.”
He watched her car as she drove away, frowning as he realized the thing was being held together by chewing gum and duct tape. Maybe his father didn’t pay her enough at CalderCo, but working as a pro Domme, even occasionally, should have meant she could trade up for a car that could boast modest claims of reliability.
“How did it go?” Jordan Monaghan’s voice floated over David’s shoulder.
He turned to respond. “I don’t know. She doesn’t strike me as the kind of woman who would steal three million dollars.”
Jordan nodded at the fading tail lights. “She sure didn’t spend it on transportation.”
“I’m meeting with my father tomorrow. I’ll get it out of him why he suspects her.”
“I ran her picture through our databases, but it could take a couple weeks to get a hit. And it’s low priority, so it’ll be bumped when someone needs the system for a case.” Jordan jerked his head toward the barn. “Head back with me. We need more paddlers for the gauntlet. It’s the final game. Too bad Bree is leaving. You guys are tied for second place. This could have clinched a victory.”
David didn’t get the feeling that Bree had wanted to win the games. He’d tasked her with having fun and making him look good, and she’d used the games to do exactly that. “I gave your rope to Amy. Thanks for the loan.”
“No problem.”
Malcolm took a position next to him as they lined up to man the gauntlet. “Darcy liked Bree a lot. She said to tell you that if you treat her like a suspect, you’re going to ruin your chances with her.”
“She may have stolen a lot of money from my father.” David cared more that the missing money could cost hundreds of honest people their jobs. Any damage inflicted on his father was karma coming back to take a chunk from the old man’s hide.
“My wife is a romantic. She’s going with the theory that if Bree stole any money, then she had a good reason, like she’s being blackmailed, or that she’s being set up. And she thinks that you two make a cute couple.”
David didn’t want to discuss any of that. He created theories to fit evidence. Looking for evidence to fit a theory was shoddy investigative work. “Are we just supposed to paddle the subs as they run by?”
“Yep. Don’t hold back, either. These aren’t just subs. Some of the Doms are masochists as well. I’ll owe you one if you go full out on Keith.”
Thinking back to the information on the dossier, David was surprised at the request. “Isn’t he your best friend?”
“And he’s engaged to my sister. Fucker has it coming. I told him that she was off limits. This is one way I can get out my frustration. He’s expecting it from me, but it’ll be icing on my happy cake if he gets it from you too.” Evil glee lit Malcolm’s eyes, and David felt sorry for Keith.
But he still paddled full out. It proved a great way to channel the complicated emotions churning through his chest and stomach. The masochistic contestants ran by one at a time, and each race was timed. Most entrants ran quickly, but a few went slowly and savored the paddling. In the end, a couple David hadn’t met won.
Thirteen years ago, he’d walked out on his father without a single regret. When his mother had passed away, everything that bound him to that life had gone with her. As he pulled into the driveway of the palatial estate, he noted how little had changed. Some of the landscaping was different. The magnificent sugar maple he’d loved to climb was gone, most likely a victim of age, but it had been replaced by another sugar maple. Mostly it suffered from a lack of color. His mother had loved to garden, and she’d spent more hours than he could count tending to roses or peonies.
The servant who answered the door was different. He’d grown up with Joseph, a man who always seemed to be ancient. Joseph’s
replacement was a woman, young and pretty. She welcomed him with a courteous smile. “Good evening, Mr. Calder. Your father is in the study.”
“Eastridge.” He’d taken his mother’s name when he’d left. “My name isn’t Calder.” He didn’t invite her to call him by his first name because he was sure the woman functioned as more than a maid, and it sickened him to see Bill Calder taking advantage of the innocent young thing.
“Sorry, sir. Can I show you to the study?”
“No. I remember where it is.” He set off, noting as he walked the cavernous main hall that nothing had moved. All the portraits and paintings were exactly the same. It was as if time had stood still once he and his mother left. He found his father sitting in a leather wing chair. That was new.
“David, it’s a pleasure to see you. I wasn’t sure you’d come.” He got to his feet, and David noticed other things that had changed. The thick mane of jet black hair on his father’s head was shot through with grey, and it had begun to recede along the forehead, leaving a sort-of widow’s peak.
“If I hadn’t promised Mom, then I wouldn’t have.” He shook his father’s hand. “This isn’t a social call. We have business to discuss.”
“I disagree.” Bill said. He went to the wet bar and refilled his bourbon. “Can I get you a drink?”
“Scotch, neat.” David frowned. “You disagree about what? I have questions, and I’ll need answers before I start the investigation.”
Bill handed him a short glass, and the two of them sat. “You’ve already begun the investigation. As much as it pains you to hear it, I know you. You’re methodical and always prepared. You wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t done your research.”
David sniffed his drink before taking a sip. It was firm and spicy, both dry and sweet. As expected, Bill Calder only stocked the best. “Research can only tell me so much. You still haven’t said what you disagreed with.”
“This is a social call. I’m having a civilized dinner with my son for the first time in over a decade. It’s not just a social event, but a momentous one. Your mother would be so happy to see you here.” Bill smirked as if he’d played an unexpected trump card.
It didn’t work to tug at his heartstrings or stir latent guilt. His mother had known he would leave, and she’d given her blessing. She’d understood why he’d needed to go. David sipped again. “Let’s get one thing clear: I’m not here for you. I have no interest in salvaging any kind of relationship with you. I’m here because I promised Mom that when you got in trouble and needed me to bail you out, I’d be here. This is a one-shot deal. I’ll find your thief, get your money back, but then I’m Casper. There won’t be holiday cards or birthday phone calls. After this, we’re through.”
Bill pretended not to hear, but that didn’t surprise David. His father had always ignored him when he’d taken a stand. “She liked to tell me that my problem was that I didn’t know how to handle a son who was exactly like me. I’ll admit that I wasn’t the best parent to you and that we had a contentious relationship when you were younger, but that doesn’t mean we can’t associate now that you’re a man with a successful business venture of your own.”
But it did. He hadn’t forgiven or forgotten a thing. However, going down this road now wouldn’t lead to anywhere productive. The maid came into the room. “Dinner is served.” She retreated quickly, without waiting for further instructions.
David regarded his father through narrowed eyes. “Looks like you’ve moved on from Mom just fine.”
Color drained from Bill’s face. “Don’t you dare. You have no right to cross that line. I loved your mother with every fiber of my being, and I lived to make her happy. She’s been gone for thirteen years, and not a day goes by where she isn’t my first thought upon waking and my last thought before going to sleep.” His father breathed to get his temper under control. “However, it’s my right to move on.”
“With the maid.” David knew he shouldn’t have said it, but being around his father brought out his worst qualities. At the ripe age of thirty-one, being in his father’s home made him feel like a powerless kid again—and he hated it.
The look of disgust on Bill’s face spoke volumes. “Cammie? For God’s sake, David! She’s Joseph’s granddaughter. I gave her a job because he asked me to. His health isn’t what it used to be, so he only works two days a week. I tried to get him to retire, but he refuses. Cammie fills in another two days. I have a cleaning crew that comes out every Monday.”
David followed his father to the elegant dining room, also untouched in the past thirteen years. He considered apologizing for jumping to conclusions, but he discarded the thought. He wasn’t sorry. Cammie served dinner from the wrong side and in the wrong order. A decade ago, Bill would have shouted at the servant until she cried, or Joseph would have fired her and served dinner himself. As it was, Bill barely managed to hide his winces at the improper service.
When she left the room, David let loose his laughter. “Joseph didn’t train her, I take it?”
“Oh, he did. She’s not detail-oriented, as she likes to tell us. She’s a free spirit who is exploring different art and creative writing classes at community college.” Bill spread his napkin on his lap. “The chef is wonderful, so at least there’s that.”
David dug in. He was hungry, and he wasn’t used to eating this late. The filet mignon was excellent, and he polished off half of it before firing questions at Bill. “Why do you suspect Autumn Sullivan?”
“She’s in charge of the accounting department. Not officially, but almost all accounts make their way to her before they go to Carl Tucker, the actual head of accounting. I’ve noticed he has a knack for hiring talented people and rubber-stamping their work. Autumn is in a perfect position to skim money off the top.”
David thought about the mischievous glint in Autumn’s green eyes and the sad little clunker she drove. “I can’t see her doing something like that.”
“You’ve met her?” Bill frowned. “I should have known you’d be that thorough. Anyway, I told you that it didn’t sit right with me. I’ve looked for alternate possibilities, but the trail only leads to her. And there’s something else.”
David waited for Bill to gather his thoughts. “I’m listening.”
“Always the smart guy,” Bill muttered. “It’s hard to put into words. I know she’s not above board, but my gut tells me I’m missing something.”
“How do you know she’s not above board?” David scowled. He didn’t like to hear her character maligned. “What’s your proof?”
“She, um…She maybe steals things. Not from me, but I had a PI follow her around for a few weeks. She takes jobs, usually with a partner, that require breaking and entering. She’s good, though. The surveillance photos show her getting into the buildings, not what she does while she’s there.”
“Then you have no proof.” David schooled his features to a neutral expression.
“None,” Bill agreed. “Having her followed only led to more questions. That’s why I called you. I want to know who is taking my money, and I want it back. I’m getting older, David. When I die, this all comes to you.”
David finished his dinner. “Sell it off and give the money to charity. I don’t want a dime from you.”
“Tough shit.” Bill’s eyes narrowed. “Cammie, we’re ready for dessert.”
They didn’t speak while Cammie cleared the table and brought out the final course—a fruit parfait, heavy on the fruit and short on the parfait. David lifted his eyebrows. “I expected something much more decadent.”
“Cammie said Joseph and I were getting paunchy, and she put us on a diet.”
David had noticed the smaller portion on his father’s plate. “A free-spirited maid who isn’t afraid to tell you that you’re getting fat. I like her.”
“Yes, yes. Now let’s talk about your trust fund. My lawyer tells me that you haven’t touched it. You know it matured when you were twenty-five? I had a registered letter sent to you.”
>
He’d shredded the document. “I told you that I didn’t need or want your money.”
“The trust fund came from your mother. When we married, I told her that she wasn’t allowed to spend her money, that I’d provide for everything she needed. So she set it aside in a trust fund when you were born. That’s all from her, not me. Though, if you need money, son, just ask. I’m your father, and I’ll never turn my back on my own flesh.”
David saved the eye-roll for the drive home. Bill Calder talked a good game, but when it came down to it, he knew the old man wouldn’t follow through with anything except what mattered to him.
Chapter Four
“Did you see the new guy?” Julianne perched on the corner of Autumn’s desk.
Autumn blinked away the fog of concentration that had her living in a world inhabited solely by numbers. She peered at Julianne, puzzled. “Huh?”
“New guy—tall, blond, so hot that ice cubes have been put on the critically endangered list. Have you seen him?” Julianne fanned herself even though the object of her interest was nowhere around.
Autumn figured that Julianne was talking about David. Her expression soured, but it didn’t relay the message to her pulse. “I don’t have time to drool. I’m working, in case you haven’t noticed.” She looked around at the people seated at other desks in her department either on the phone or tapping at their keyboards. “This is why accounting always gets the productivity awards.”
“You work too hard. It’s important to take time to smell the roses. And let me tell you, this is one hothouse flower.”
Autumn winced. “That was bad. I see your taste in reading hasn’t changed.”
“Romance novels make me happy.” Julianne sighed. “I’m going to write one. I read the most horrid story the other day, and all I could think about was how I could do it better.”
“Go for it. Use the hothouse flower as your hero. Maybe he’ll take you to dinner and help you with your research.” Autumn didn’t like throwing David toward her friend, but she didn’t have plans for him, and Julianne was the complete package. She was sweet and gorgeous, and loyal to a fault.
Re/Leased (Doms of the FBI Book 5) Page 5
