ROMEO

by Ruby Rowe

  “How could I not? That’s all I’ve done for a few days now. Thank goodness for sunglasses.”

  “I know, right? It’s much easier to check him out, along with those attractive guys he has with him from the moving company. He’s too young for me, though. Frank was more my type.”

  “Whatever. You wouldn’t turn Griffin down. He insists on calling me Ms. Lane, and for some reason, it’s annoying.”

  “Maybe you like him.”

  “I like to look at him.”

  “Shit, you’re about to get an even better chance. He’s walking this way.”

  Griffin approaches us and is a touch winded.

  “Excuse me, Ms. Lane, but for security measures, I was wondering if you would introduce me to your guest.”

  I smirk since he should know exactly who she is.

  “I’m Sydney Sinclaire,” she says, while I take the opportunity to stare at his glistening skin. “I’m not her stalker; although, she might disagree. I am a little hurt that you don’t recognize me.” She gives a pouty face.

  “Sydney is a good friend and will be over often.”

  “I apologize. I do recognize you now that I’m closer, and please excuse the sweat.” Griffin uses his forearm to wipe the droplets from his forehead. “Ladies, I’ll leave you two alone and get back to unloading the truck.”

  “Who said we’re ladies?” Sydney chimes.

  Griffin’s mouth twitches into what might be a smile, but it’s still not enough to say for sure. Without another word, he strolls off.

  “I think he’s going to be bossy. He puts his two cents in when I don’t ask for it. He actually said in the interview that it was a shame my life was dull.”

  “It is a shame. Oh, speaking of which, I got the name and number of that place you want to check out. I’m sure they have someone who will make your life less boring.”

  “I’m nervous. What if someone leaks it to the press? It would be detrimental to my reputation if it got out that I attended a BDSM dungeon.

  “Although, I don’t know why I’m worried. I doubt anyone would believe the tabloids if they ran with it. I hardly come across as someone who’d be into whips and paddles.”

  “I would still use an alias.”

  “Oh, absolutely, but first I have to get the nerve to step inside the door.” Thoughts of Mickey resurface, and I recall the few times we dabbled in kinkier sex. I loved it when he blindfolded me or smacked my ass.

  I yearned to experience more with him, but he was never interested. Now, after my boring stint with Oliver, I’m eager to delve deeper and darker.

  My eyes stray to Griffin as he stands at the back of the moving truck. Yes, I want a man like him; one whose commanding presence will leave me breathless and dizzy. I need a man I can trust with my life … and all my darkest desires.

  Ava

  I’m on my way to a BDSM dungeon for the first time, and I’m nervous as hell. I wanted to attend a munch first, which is a smaller, informal social gathering for those into the lifestyle, but I feared someone would out me to the press.

  Dungeon Six, however, is quite particular of their members, screening each one and requiring they sign a non-disclosure agreement.

  My contact said I would have greater privacy if I became a member of the club and used the opportunity to discover my interests.

  I don’t believe I could participate in a public scene, but this is the safest way to find someone I trust. It’s a place where I can watch and learn.

  Needing a distraction, I pull my compact from my bag and apply my pink lipstick. I eye the short bangs of the dark wig I’m wearing and hope it’s an adequate disguise.

  Taking a deep breath, I inhale the scent of cedar and citrus. Having smelled it before when he was near, I know it’s coming from Griffin sitting right next to me in the back of the town car.

  He recently showered, likely after a workout. I swear I’ve never known someone who exercises as often as that man, and I live in a city full of exercise junkies.

  He’s outside doing some sort of martial arts every morning, and he jogs on the property daily, too. Also, Holly claims she spotted a weight bench in his living quarters while she was standing at his door speaking to him.

  Damn, he smells incredible. I shut my purse and lean my head back against the seat. I can feel his eyes on me, so I turn my head to look at him.

  “Is there a problem?” Shit, my cranky attitude was evident in that question. It always shines through when I’m stressed.

  “I can’t help but notice you’re nervous. Is there something I should be aware of?”

  “No.”

  Nodding slightly, he shifts his gaze forward, so I close my eyes and once again breathe in his masculine scent.

  About ten minutes have passed when I feel the car roll to a stop. Sitting up, I stare out the window at the aged three-story warehouse.

  Its dark grey paint is chipping off, and there’s a worn, faded spot at the top center where a sign once hung. Iron bars cover the old windows, yet the black front door has a sheen to it, like it was recently painted.

  The dim streetlamps are unwelcoming, especially to the alley off to the left of the building. I look to my right, past Griffin, but in the darkness, I can barely make out a parking lot full of vehicles.

  “Harold, are you sure this is the right address?”

  “It’s the one Holly gave me, Ms. Lane.”

  Biting my lip, I find my phone to verify the address from an email.

  “This is it,” I mumble.

  “Are you sure?” Griffin asks with a touch of surprise in his voice.

  “Yes.”

  I could swear I hear a sigh before he gets out and comes around to open the door for me. His eyebrows are cinched with concern, and I imagine it’s from the sight of this place.

  Kellen is out of the car, as well, scoping out the area as we walk toward the door. The scent of tobacco wafts through the air from a cigarette butt receptacle next to the entrance.

  “You two can wait in the car,” I say as I raise my hand to grab the polished silver door knocker.

  “Excuse me?” Griffin asks.

  “I said you two can wait in the car.”

  “I’m going inside with you.”

  “No, I’m going in alone.”

  “I can’t protect you if I’m out here.”

  “I won’t need protection inside.”

  “I insist on accompanying you, especially since you’ve failed to enlighten me on our whereabouts.” His tone is curt, and it’s pissing me off, yet for some reason, my body is reacting to it in a sexual way.

  “What’s inside is none of your business.”

  “I beg to differ. Have you been here before?”

  “No, but I’ve already verified that it’s safe.”

  His lips purse, and his gaze latches on to mine.

  “My job is to be by your side when you’re in public. I promise to be a ghost unless you’re in danger, so I see no harm in me going in with you.”

  I grab my hip. “That’s not happening. Now, you’re welcome to wait outside this door if you’d like. I shouldn’t be more than an hour.”

  “Did you pull this kind of stunt on Frank when he worked for you?”

  “It’s not a stunt, and I make the rules, so back off.” Noticing a buzzer to my right, I push it instead of using the knocker, and even over the obtrusive sound, I hear Griffin’s growl. Certain he’s glaring, I don’t look back at him.

  “Have you noticed Kellen isn’t arguing with me?” I spout.

  “Maybe that’s because he respects my authority in a way you should respect my competency.”

  I turn around to scowl at him. “Look, I don’t usually ask for this level of privacy in public, but tonight I am, so let this go before I change my mind about your employment.”

  Uttering an obscenity, his dress shoes rub against the pebbles on the pavement before a rock he kicks goes flying off to the side of us.

  “Great, you have a
temper,” I say snidely.

  The creaking door opens, so I turn around. A gentleman is before me, and oddly, he eyes Griffin over my head and gives him a nod. The guy’s wearing a light grey suit, and I’d guess that he’s in his mid-thirties.

  “Good evening. Could I have your last name and first initial, Miss?”

  “It’s, um, A. Moore.” I give him my mother’s maiden name. He’s holding an iPad, appearing to scroll through a list. “It’s my first visit.”

  “Yes, I see your name here. Please step inside.” Fishing a cell phone from his pocket, he makes a call as the door closes behind me. We’re both standing in a small corridor while he notifies someone that I’ve arrived.

  Remembering my need for a disguise, I find my black masquerade mask in my purse and place it over my head, adjusting it on my face after. He ends the call and opens another door for me.

  “Please wait inside, and Mrs. Freemont will be with you shortly to get you acquainted with the club. I hope you have a pleasant evening.”

  “Thank you.” Conjuring up a weak smile, I hesitate before I step into the next room. The first thing I notice is the low-wattage, recessed lighting above me that casts a mystique glow.

  Men and women are wandering around the spacious room in risqué attire that’s in sensual colors such as black, red and deep purple, and maybe half are wearing masks.

  Friday nights are masquerade themed, and it’s mainly so newbies, and those requiring discretion, can attend and feel comfortable. It’s the only night I plan to attend since I don’t want a soul to recognize me.

  A young woman strolls past me in a black corset that’s laced up the back with white ties. It’s paired with a matching leather skirt, and her mask is covered in iridescent sequins.

  What am I doing? This is crazy. Even with my wig and mask, someone is going to recognize me. I can’t be here. I start to turn around when a woman calls out, “Ma’am, excuse me.” Cringing, I shift back to face her.

  The pretty woman smiles at me, and I admire her long raven hair that draws attention to her smooth olive skin and the darkest eyes. The shape of them hints she might be of Asian heritage.

  “Good evening, I’m Mrs. Freemont, but please call me Tammy.” I stick out my trembling hand, and she barely takes my fingers into hers, shaking them gracefully.

  “Hi, we spoke on the phone. I’m, um, Audrey Moore,” I say quietly. I can’t help but glance around the room, fearing that someone heard me and will call me out on my lie, but even if someone identified me, they couldn’t hear me over the techno music playing.

  “I’m glad you could make it. I received the signed agreement you faxed to me, so you’re all set.” She tilts her head to the side, nodding toward the lofty space. “Let me show you around.”

  As she turns her back to me, apprehension cements my feet to the floor. A bartender behind a long counter on my right gives me a welcoming smile, so I brave some steps and follow Tammy.

  I’m curious what the guy is serving at the bar since the rules I agreed to stated that alcohol is not allowed on the premises. There are a few men and women perched on stools, talking to each other.

  I let my eyes roam as I follow Mrs. Freemont farther into the massive space. Ahead of us, in the center, are three small rooms butted together. They’re open in the front so that you can watch the scenes taking place inside.

  There are two hallways that split off from us, one to the left and one to the right, and I’m curious as to where they lead.

  Feeling the quivering of my bottom lip, I press my fingers to my mouth to stop it, and the closer we get to the center, the more I notice my heart pounding in my chest. The first scene room on the left is empty.

  My eyes are pulled to the one in the center, where a woman is shackled to a St. Andrew’s cross. She’s naked, and a flogger is being dragged along her taut stomach by a man wearing loose-fitting jeans.

  His bare back is broad and toned, and his bicep flexes as it moves with the flogger. My breath hitches from the erotic sight. This dungeon allows nudity, so the woman’s short scarlet hair allows a clear view of her slender arms and large breasts.

  Beneath her red mask are bright greens eyes that resemble mine, and her mouth parts as she waits for her Top’s next move. What have I gotten myself into? I could never do something like that in public.

  Tammy goes over BDSM terminology with me. She names off common items used in the lifestyle and explains to me the difference between a Dom and sub and a Top and bottom.

  I’ve done my research over the years, so most of what she explains I’m familiar with, but I hang on to her every word to ensure I don’t miss something important.

  Tammy points to our left. “There are private rooms down each of the hallways. They can be rented by the hour for your privacy, and there are also themed rooms. For example, one has a medical-room setting and another is full of costumes to play dress up. I’ll show you those shortly.”

  A man wearing a black leather vest and matching pants strolls past us and eyes me from head to toe. I look away from him, self-conscious over how I must stand out.

  I’m not dressed the way other members are. Instead, I’m wearing black slacks and a red button-up blouse. I look more dressed for the office than a BDSM dungeon.

  “There’s a new scene beginning if you’d like to watch,” Tammy says, pointing to the last of the three rooms before us. A woman is lying on a medical exam table while a man drops candle wax onto her bare breasts. As I watch the sensual white liquid spill, I feel the panic building inside me.

  He moves his hand in a circular motion, causing the wax to circle her protruding nipple. The tip is stiff and pink, and she’s panting for air as the warm wax hardens.

  In my eyes, this is too erotic and personal to share with others. As much as it turns me on to watch the act as it’s happening, I feel like I’m in over my head and don’t belong here.

  “I’m sorry, but I have to go.” Turning on my heels, I dart toward the door.

  “Ms. Moore,” she calls out, but I don’t stop or look back. I rush through the first door, and the guy inside the small room stands from the stool he’s sitting on.

  “I need to leave.” Not giving him time to respond, I push open the next door and rush out into the cool evening air. Taking in a straining breath, I look to the pitch-black sky. Someone grabs my shoulders, so I bring my head down and find Griffin searching my face.

  “Did something happen in there? Are you OK?”

  “I’m fine.” Remembering my mask, I yank it off my head and shove it inside my purse. “I want to go home.”

  He shakes his head. “How this went down is bullshit.” With his arm at the small of my back, he directs me to the car still parked at the curb.

  Once I’m seated and he shuts the door, he walks around to the other side and gets in. Kellen sits in the front passenger seat and takes a glimpse over his shoulder to ensure I’m OK.

  I give him a reassuring nod, so he turns forward. He’s only twenty-six, so we don’t talk much, but he’s worked under Frank for a couple of years now.

  I believe Frank felt he should bring on some younger guys who were fitter and faster. Pushing fifty, he had to admit he was slowing down a bit.

  Kellen’s at least six-feet-six inches and is a solid wall of muscle. Griffin is just as fit, but I’d guess him to be a few inches shorter than Kellen. I lean my head back against the seat and dwell on what I witnessed in the club.

  It was sensual and taboo, and I wanted to be one of those women, but the thought of exposing myself to others that way ran me off, which only frustrates me since I seldom back down from anything.

  I’ll have to email Mrs. Freemont tomorrow and apologize for my rude departure. Maybe I can find the nerve to return, but right now I’m not so sure.

  I look over at Griffin as he stares out the passenger window. The passing streetlights and stoplights give me brief shots of his tightened jaw and rugged face. His big hands are clenched into fists on his thighs
.

  “You’re mad at me.”

  “Confused is more like it. I don’t understand why you hired me if you’re not going to let me do my job. I just left a reckless client; I wasn’t looking for another.”

  “I needed privacy tonight, but I apologize for not letting you know that beforehand.”

  He doesn’t reply, and I’m wondering if he gets this angry every time he doesn’t get his way? He crossed a line tonight, speaking to me the way he did, but I want him to cross another.

  I’m turned on after what I witnessed in the club, and I’d like nothing more than for him to punish me for disobeying his ridiculous demands, which is mind-boggling since I’m independent and often stubborn.

  Regardless of what I’m feeling, it’s never going to happen. I doubt he holds any interest in women my age. Sexually frustrated, I yank off my black wig and run my fingers through my short blond hair.

  In the process, I imagine him gripping it tightly. There are enough soft curls for him to grasp with his strong hands. Lord, I might have to take Mickey up on his offer so I can get off a time or two.

  The man has skills. I’ll give him that, but I’d be using him, and it would only give him false hope that we’re getting back together for good.

  I guess I’m left with my talented fingers and small collection of toys. They’ll have to do. If not, Griffin will have to go.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Griffin

  The frustration over what happened with Ms. Lane last night only festered and dug deeper under my skin, so since it’s my day off, I suit up and grab my helmet. A ride on my motorcycle is what I need to clear my head.

  I notice Ava on her patio as I walk to my bike. She’s sitting at a table in a string bikini top and a pair of extremely short shorts. One of her long legs is crossed over the other as she reads the paper.

  Damn, those legs. Needing to burn off some sexual tension, I drive out of the front gate and rev my engine. I speed down the highway and revel in the rush of adrenaline and the force of the wind I feel against my riding suit.

  I try to empty my mind and enjoy the clear blue sky, but Ava Lane is all I can think about. I’ve been around attractive women. Hell, Ms. Velasquez, who I previously worked for, had a youthful, fit body, but she did absolutely nothing for me.