“Ignore Ash Livingston? Pretty sure that’s impossible,” Andrea said, grinning.
“He also… he said something in the meeting. He said that my uncle told him that I was special. That there’s a spark in me. You don’t think Uncle Richard told him we were related, do you?”
“No. No way,” Andrea shook her head. “Rich promised you he wouldn’t tell a soul that you were his niece. He would never break a promise. Especially, to you.”
I breathed a little easier at that. Andrea was right. She had grown up right alongside of me and knew Uncle Rich almost as well as I did. He had videoed our seventh grade talent show where we danced an embarrassingly choreographed number to Gwen Stefani’s “Hollaback Girl.” I cringed at the thought that there was evidence out there of my awful rhythm. Especially dancing next to Andrea who was a natural.
“Excuse me,” a deep voice said from over my shoulder, interrupting us. “Could I please get a gimlet and a Tito’s and cranberry?”
“Sure,” Andrea said, smiling, and got to work behind the counter prepping the drinks.
I could feel the man’s eyes burning into me from the side and after another moment, I snuck a glance at him from over my shoulder. I found myself eye to eye with my uncle’s friend, Erik Larson staring back at me.
“Lucy!” he exclaimed. “I thought it was you. How are you, kid?”
“Erik? What are you—” I stopped myself from asking the world’s stupidest question of what are you doing here. “Um, hey. How are you?”
He shrugged, giving me a half smile. “Hanging in there since the separation.”
“I’m sorry to hear about you and Maria. How’s Mack handling it?” Mack—the cutest three-year-old you’ll ever meet. I used to babysit on and off for them last year in college for extra cash while they were trying to save their marriage.
“She’s young. She’ll be fine,” he answered. Then, scratching the back of his neck, he looked around awkwardly. That’s when I noticed a leather strap clutched in his hand, connecting to a woman’s collar standing behind him.
My face went white, and I darted my gaze forward. Stupid knee-jerk reaction.
Andrea brought the drinks over and he slid his credit card across the bar, opening a tab.
“So, um, don’t take this the wrong way,” Erik said, wincing with the words, “But, I’m going to go sit way over there away from you.”
I gave him a smile and nodded. Thank God. I didn’t have a problem with kink. But when it was your uncle’s best friend tethered to a sub right in front of you? It was just a little uncomfortable. And the last thing I wanted to see was my uncle’s best friend play out his kinky Dom fantasies in front of me tonight. Wait, second to last thing I wanted to see. Because seeing Uncle Rich in here would be even worse. “You aren’t hurting my feelings at all,” I said. “It was good running into you. Let me know if you ever need a babysitter.”
He nodded. “Of course.”
I lifted my Diet Coke and vodka, clinking the edge of my glass to his gin and tonic as I added, “And, no offense to you if I happen to slip out of here without saying goodbye.”
He smiled, his eyes flicking toward the back door to the secret area of LnS. I rolled my eyes and shoved his shoulder. “Not through that door,” I said, as he snickered. “Through the front door. Alone.”
He gave me a quick wave. “Night, Lucy.”
Once he was gone, disappearing into the thickening crowd, I leaned across the bar to Andrea, hissing, “You didn’t tell me Erik was a visitor here.”
She licked her lips. “That’s not the only thing I never told you about…” Andrea said, her voice dropping suspiciously low.
In all the years I had known her, I’d only ever heard Andrea whisper three times. The first was when we were twelve and she got her first period. The second was when we were sitting second row at a New York City fashion week runway show. And this right now? Was the third.
“You have a secret?” I asked. “You? The girl who blabbed when you made out with your professor and got his ass fired?”
“Shut up. I can so keep a secret. And I wasn’t one of Professor Brannigan’s students at the time. I didn’t know it would get him fired.”
“Did you know it would get him divorced?”
Andrea huffed a sigh and tossed her dirty rag below the bar. “He never mentioned a wife,” she said, sulking.
“He was, like, twice our age, Andrea,” I said.
“Oh, come on. He was in his forties and he was sexy.”
I groaned. “Right. In his forties. And we were twenty-one. Twice our age.”
“So, I have a thing for older guys. Sue me.” Andrea gave a wave of her hand and tossed her hair casually. “As I was saying, you know how I had to sign that confidentiality waiver when I started working here?”
“Yes…”
“And remember how I told you I spent a few weeks filling in for the bartender upstairs? Bartending for the private section?” she whispered, barely even mouthing the words.
I nodded, urging her to go on. “Yeah… so?”
“I told you that night that there were a few high-profile Hollywood types that were regulars up there, right?”
I shrugged. “What’s your point” Andrea knew me better than anyone, and knew I didn’t give a crap about Hollywood gossip. A sick feeling dropped in my stomach. “Oh, God. Do not tell me my uncle was upstairs…”
“No… not Richard, but you’re close…” Andrea shook her head, lips pressed into a firm line. “You really don’t know where I’m going with this?” Her gaze rose, falling on something or someone over my shoulder
I turned in my seat, following Andrea’s gaze. I didn’t have to follow it far, though. There in the bar, walking directly toward us was Ash Livingston.
Chapter Five
Lucy
Breathe, Lucy. So, what? Your boss just walked into the bar where you’re getting tipsy. Your very hot boss. At the very sexual BDSM bar where your best friend and roommate works. Oh yeah, nothing to freak out about there…
Air pulled into my lungs through my tight lips and I squeezed my eyes shut, almost like closing my eyes would make this whole scene disappear. “Ash comes here?” I hissed at my best friend.
Andrea swallowed, looking side to side. “I’m not at liberty to discuss our clients,” she answered in a rehearsed way. Once more, her eyes flicked up, catching the lights from the dance floor. “But it looks like you’ll get a chance to ask him yourself. Here he comes.”
“What?” I squeaked, and immediately ducked my head into my hands. Oh, God. This was not happening.
“Mr. Livingston,” Andrea said, and I could hear the lilt in her voice; that sweet tone she used when working or in a meeting or charming her way out of trouble. “I’m surprised to see you out here in the main bar.”
“Not all of us members are so worried about people knowing our kink,” he said, his voice a deep, velvety baritone that—if I had been standing—my knees may have given out on me.
“Your usual?”
“Please.”
I kept my eyes firmly cast down, studying the granite bar top like my freaking life depended on memorizing each detailed line.
Through the tops of my lashes, I could see Andrea pouring a tumbler of amber colored liquid. And practically in slow motion, I saw as her elbow connected with my glass of vodka and Diet Coke, sending the half-full tumbler crashing over and spilling all over my lap.
I squealed and jumped to my feet as the icy liquid landed in my lap. Shocked, I jerked my gaze up to Andrea, who met my eyes with an arched brow.
“Lucy?” Ash said, beside me.
“I’m so sorry,” Andrea said. and used a rag to mop up the mess. “I’ll get you another drink.”
I glared at her. She so did that on purpose.
Taking a deep breath, I turned to Ash standing beside me. His eyes were wide, his mouth parted; those full lips wet and so kissable…
I opened my mouth to speak, but words didn’
t quite form properly. Where I meant to say, Ash, hi, weird running into you here; all that came out was a cracked, “Ahh, I phuu—”
Phu. I actually said “phu” to Ash Livingston. Yeah. That’s not even a word! I cleared my throat and tried again. “M-Mr. Livingston. Uh, hi.”
He blinked and in a moment, whatever shocked expression he had, vanished. In its place, my cool, collected boss was back. He pulled his hand out of his pocket and ran his palm over his stubble. “What are you doing here?” he asked carefully.
Out of reflex, my eyes darted to the back door. The door where Andrea had told me some of the patrons pay astronomical amounts to have private rooms for their… um… fetishes.
“I, um… well…” Seriously. Use your words, Lucy! I scolded myself. But that one simple look toward the back door must have given Ash the wrong impression. That I was here to go into that back room.
His eyes grew even wider and as Andrea handed him his drink, he took a big sip. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he whispered. I got the impression that I wasn’t supposed to have heard it.
I swallowed, my mouth feeling like it was lined with cotton, and I reached for my drink to wet my throat only to discover it was still empty from the spill. Goddammit, Andrea.
Sensing that I was seconds away from either running away from the scene entirely or just altogether pretending I didn’t know where I was, Andrea refilled my drink.
“On the house,” Andrea said, smiling at me.
Yeah, it sure as shit better be. I grabbed the glass and sucked about half the icy liquid that was in it through the straw. Immediately, a cramp pulsed in my sinuses, like I was ten years old and drinking a Slurpee too fast. I slapped my palm to my head and hissed… just like I did back then, too. Only, now? I looked like even more of an idiot. People expect kids to be hasty and get brain freezes. No one expects a twenty-two year old working adult to need a hit of vodka so badly that she renders herself both useless and unsexy. That basically defeated the whole damn point of alcohol, didn’t it?
Ash chuckled behind his fist in a sad attempt to hide his amusement. “Brain freeze?”
I nodded, squeezing my eyes shut against the stabbing cramp.
His touch glided over my jaw and my eyes shot open to find Ash standing over me. One hand threaded into my hair, tilting my head back. “Part your lips,” he said, his voice gruff but quiet.
Standing over me like that, his hand cupping my head back; I felt like I was in a fairy tale being dipped by the handsome prince. Except in this case, the handsome prince was a member of a BDSM club and also my freaking boss. With the pad of his thumb, he brushed over my lips, pulling them apart, then cupped his hand over my open mouth. Not suffocating me, but making it so I was breathing the hot air of my own breath.
Within seconds, the throbbing headache pulsed less and dissolved into a mild thrum in my sinuses. "The warmth of your own breath alleviates the symptoms faster."
His eyes fastened onto mine, searching, wandering over my face. “Why do you watch me so closely?” I asked before I had the sense to stop myself. My lips brushed the palm of his hand and the intimacy of my mouth on his flesh sent a shiver tumbling down my spine.
Surprise edged along his features as he blinked and pulled me upright. Only he didn’t unthread his fingers from my hair. His index finger twirled around the strands. “I see you’re feeling better already.”
“That’s not an answer to my question,” I said, feeling suddenly emboldened.
“Does it bother you? Being watched?”
Yes. “No.”
The right side of his mouth tilted into a grin. “You’re different. I like different.”
I shrugged. “So that’s it? Just because I don’t look like the typical Los Angeles bottle blonde—”
“Watch it,” Andrea murmured from behind the bar, shooting me a wink.
Ash’s eyebrows folded together in the center. “I don’t mean different physically. You’re unique. There’s an energy about you that I find intriguing.”
Energy. Maybe he did feel that connection we had back in his office. That swirling, kinetic energy that made time slow down when I was locked into his eyes.
Ash moved back to his seat and took a sip of his drink. When I didn’t answer him, he pressed further. “So, you came to LnS to see what’s behind the curtain?” he asked, leaning his forearms against the bar. I followed his gaze where he inclined his chin to the back door. The super secret upstairs membership.
“Everyone knows what’s behind the curtain,” I said. He was so much taller than me that even leaning like he was, his eye line was still higher than mine.
Ash tilted his head in question. “Do they, now?”
I nodded. “The Great and Powerful Oz.”
He chuckled, a graveled, warm sound that vibrated to my toes. I could have crawled into that chuckle and nestled in for a nap. “Not quite. The Great and Powerful Oz was all a hoax.” His eyes flicked over my shoulder, landing briefly on the door behind me before coming back to mine. His face was mere inches away and his gaze kept traveling back and forth from my eyes to my lips. Did I have something in my teeth? Why the hell was he looking at me like that? Especially when he frequented a club like this—a club where there were women in tight leather and corsets and probably willing to do all the fetishy things Ash apparently loved to do—like spanking and… and… well, shit. I didn’t even know what other kinds of things they did back there. Other than the little bit of sugar kink I saw in books and movies, I had no idea what went on at these kinds of clubs.
“What happens in there?” Ash went on. “It’s great. And powerful. But nothing about it is a hoax.”
I swallowed, looking down at my white t-shirt that was dirty from work and my loose-fitting jeans. Neither of which I had bothered to change before coming out tonight. “Well, then… I guess that’s a… horse of a different color.”
His grin spread to a full smile, lighting up his face. I didn’t see him smile much on set. He wasn’t grumpy necessarily, just not very genial. But that smile? It was… wow. It revealed a set of straight, white teeth and created one dimple beside his right eye.
His white Oxford shirt was crisp and ironed and left open at the throat. His broad shoulders were like an invitation—begging to be grabbed and held on to or traced by the edge of a woman’s fingernail over the hard, curved muscles.
I caught my lip between my teeth and drew in a deep breath through my nose. “Actually, I just come here to visit my friend who works here.”
Andrea stiffened behind the bar as I revealed the truth. My best friend looked panicked for a second, and I widened my eyes, questioning without actually verbalizing. What was her problem? Ash would find out anyway when Andrea showed up on set to meet about the wardrobe.
Ash’s pleasant demeanor shifted so rapidly that it left me breathless. “Is that so?” he asked. The words themselves were fine—it was the tone beneath them. A hard, dangerous edge that dared Andrea to say the wrong thing in response.
I held my breath as my elbow brushed against his. The feeling of his flesh touching mine caused heat to pulse between my legs and his gaze jerked back to me. Hot, intense eyes regarded me sharply. “Funny,” he continued. “Andrea’s not supposed to talk about this place. Ever. She signed a contract stating as much.”
My spine bristled at the accusation. “She didn’t talk about it.” Well, she kind of did—but just in general terms. She never mentioned anyone’s name or Ash specifically. And I’ll be damned if my best friend was going to get in trouble or worse—fired—because I had a big mouth.
He arched an eyebrow. “Oh? I find that hard to believe.”
I snorted and shook my head. “So just because you find it hard to believe that means it’s not true? Up until about two minutes ago, I had no idea you’d ever stepped foot inside this club.” At least that much is true, I thought as I kicked back my bar stool, standing.
Yeah, that was a dumb idea. My 5’3 frame didn’t quite have the impact of
standing up to the big, bad bully, and I was suddenly lower in his eye line than I had been when sitting on the stool.
“Luce…” Andrea warned. Yeah, I was pretty sure this was the two vodkas on an empty stomach talking, but it wasn’t fair that Andrea get fired for this. I was already getting screamed at by Kelly on set because of Ash. I wasn’t going to let my best friend get fired, too. Andrea had kept the damn secret—which if you knew that girl at all, that was a freaking miracle.
I held up my hand, waving away Andrea’s concern. “All I’ve known for a year is that she works at this bar—and that it has some kink thing going on in here. Which… look around, Ash. Anyone with half a freaking brain can figure that out. Then again, maybe you’re not used to being around women who can think for themselves, so I’ll explain it for you. I was able to put two and two together. Look over there… see that girl with the leather corset walking around with a whip? Yeah. Not something you see at Buffalo Wild Wings. And the cages on stage that the burlesque dancers sit in? Oh, and let’s not forget the dog collars and the back door that’s guarded like the goddamn Pentagon.” Whoa. Yep, definitely the vodka talking. I hadn’t spoken that way to a superior since college when my guidance counselor suggested I move back in with my sorority.
His smirk was back and he folded his arms as he stared down at me. Literally down since he was a whole foot taller.
Oh, God. What have I done? I just yelled—literally yelled at my boss in the middle of a fetish bar where he was apparently one of the few people who knew about that back area. My knees trembled and I tightened my quads in a failed attempt to stop the quaking.
“Well,” Ash said slowly. “Alright, then. Sorry about that Andrea.”
Role Play (Silhouette Studios) Page 5
