Maisy's Keeper: Club Drift, Book One (The Club Drift Series 1)

by Saffron Hayes

  The guests, already merry with champagne, cheered and clinked glasses with their table mates. It was a diverse mix of people. If you’d been unaware of Club Drift’s nature and invited to guess the connection these people had to one another, you’d struggle.

  There were older couples, some of whom Maisy had seen passing time in the bar, some who she’d yet to meet.

  One silver haired pair caught her attention, their hands had been entwined from the moment they’d arrived. They wore understated black formal wear and leaned on each other when walking in and now again as they watched Claude speak. One wore a delicate gold collar and the most serene smile Maisy had ever seen.

  There were men and women wearing black armbands. She’d been informed were previous House Masters and Mistresses. No longer active enough at the club to perform the role often, but always welcome to wear the armband when they visited.

  There were people of all ages, of all professions, of all races and abilities. The striking Domme who she’d first seen holding court from her wheelchair weeks ago was there with a male sub Maisy recognised. Xavier and Chloe sat together and Xavier was actually allowed to sit on a chair, rather than kneeling by her side, in honour of the occasion.

  Maisy estimated she’d seen about half the guests in the club before. The others were known to her only by name, by brief anecdotes Claude had shared when they were arranging invitations. “Marie,” he’d said, “Oh, Marie. I would have married her, you know. If only she’d deigned to leave America.”

  “You could have followed her there,” Maisy had offered. Claude had shaken his head, “I have moved far enough from my homeland, petite. I could not be an ocean away.”

  Despite several leading questions since, Maisy had failed to get any further information about Marie. But she was here. She’d flown in for the anniversary, as Claude had known she would. She sat on the centre table, her tightly curled mop of hair like soft fire in the artificial light. Striking was an understatement. Maisy could easily see how, once upon a time, she’d stolen Claude’s heart.

  Maisy realised she’d zoned out of Claude’s speech entirely. Not surprising, really, she’d been helping him write it and was a bit sick of it. Not that it wasn’t lovely, but she’d heard it ten times already on this day alone. There was a lot of gratitude and warm friendships and incomparable connections and so on.

  “Maisy?” Dan spoke quietly from beside her. She startled, she’d been so busy watching the guests she’d temporarily forgotten he was there.

  She gave him a tight smile and turned her attention back to Claude. Had he done the baguette joke yet? He would be finished soon after the baguette joke.

  “Sweetheart, can we talk?” He touched her elbow gently, as if suggesting he lead her to somewhere private.

  She jerked her arm away, “I’m working.”

  “Later then? I need to apologise. Beg forgiveness might be more like it.”

  Despite herself she smiled at the thought of him begging for anything, “I don’t know, Daniel. Let’s say maybe, okay?”

  “Maybe baby.” A smarmy voice chimed in from her other side. She grabbed Dan’s hand instinctively then let it go almost as soon as she’d taken it. It wasn’t possible. He couldn’t be here. He couldn’t be in her sanctuary tonight of all nights.

  Sick to her stomach she turned to face the voice, knowing who she was going to see, refusing to believe it.

  Hair slicked back, sneer fixed in place, larger than life and twice as arrogant. Michael. Her boss. And he looked extremely pleased with himself.

  Chapter 37

  One Of Us

  “And there I was thinking you were frigid,” Michael’s grin was unnaturally wide and stiff. This wasn’t the same as when he was drunk, this time he was sober and high on ugly rage.

  “Who’s this?” Dan asked, stepping closer to Maisy in a protective stance.

  “Is this one in addition to the frog or is he the new squeeze?” Michael asked, looking between them gleefully. “Here, why aren’t you naked like these other tarts?” He waved his arm at the guests.

  Several of the guests had already noticed a disturbance, but this insult made several of them turn around and stare at the interloper.

  “Maisy, are you okay?” Dan took her arm, “Maisy?”

  She couldn’t respond. She heard him, just like she’d heard Michael’s crude comment and she was now aware that Claude had stopped his speech and was heading towards them. However, it was like she was watching these things happen to somebody else. She’d checked out the moment she heard Michael’s voice.

  Claude reached them and whispered something in Dan’s ear, both men looked at Michael with disgust.

  “You’re leaving,” Dan said, “Now.”

  Most people who were subject to Claude and Dan’s united disapproval would make themselves scarce as soon as possible. Michael, however, had such an inflated opinion of himself he didn’t notice when others were disgusted by him, so he continued. His eyes were as wild as his grin and they didn’t stray from Maisy’s stricken face.

  “I’m not going anywhere, mate. My employee and I are going to have a little chat about sordid sex clubs and external contracts. And maybe we’ll go into how nobody in the industry will ever work with her again after I tell them about this shit hole and how Miss Prissy Bennett is actually a massive slut. That’ll be fun, won’t it, hmm?” He leaned in closer to Maisy’s face and she snapped out of her disassociated state enough to shove him backwards.

  “Oh ho!” Impossibly, Michael grinned even wider and licked his lips, “Spankee or spanker? That’s a fun game. John loves to be smacked around by escorts in leather boots, shall I move your desk into his office for Monday?”

  “Excuse me, sir,” The older man who Maisy had noticed holding his wife’s hand earlier stood up. “Did I hear you correctly? You intend to blackmail this person?”

  Michael looked him up and down then turned his malicious gaze back to Maisy, “What’s it got to do with you?”

  “I suggest you retract the threats, boy, if you know what’s good for you,” His hand rested steadily on his wife’s shoulder. He might look frail, but he wasn’t a pushover by any measure. His voice wasn’t forceful, but it did not waver.

  Michael laughed and reluctantly tore himself away from Maisy to look at the man again, “I suggest you fuck off and mind your own business if you know what’s good for you, old man.”

  The man smiled and nodded, “Very well.”

  A man and a woman seated at the older man’s table stood at the same time. Both were more conservatively dressed than most of the other guests. They both reached into a pocket to pull out a police I.D. and held it up for Michael to see.

  He scowled at them, but didn’t back off, “So I tell your boss he’s got coppers hanging out in a brothel, or whatever the fuck this is, and you both get the sack too. You can’t touch me.”

  The older man, still smiling, said, “Their boss is my daughter and I assure you she will not fire them for being at a party.”

  Maisy saw Michael’s eyebrow twitch and took a step back. That always happened before he really lost his temper. It’d happened in the corridor the other day, after the meeting. Michael glanced around at the rest of the guests, no doubt wondering who else had witnessed his tantrum.

  Monsieur Leroy, esteemed businessman, was looking at him like anyone might look at a slug in their cabbage patch. William, unnaturally still and quiet, was clearly ready to pounce and just as clearly able to overpower Michael easily. Matilda and Matt stood between Michael and the door to reception.

  Slowly, it dawned on him that he’d walked into the lion’s den and, what’s more, attacked a cub. He needed to change his tune if he wanted to emerge unscathed.

  He stepped back from Maisy and put on his best city-boy grin, “No need for all that. I’ll go. You’re still fired, by the way. Have fun being unemployed without a reference.”

  Matilda spoke up, her accent stronger than usual in anger, “Did she n
ot tell you, little man? She is booked solid these six months. She doesn’t need you or your chaka-chaka firm.”

  Michael sneered at Matilda and opened his mouth to respond, but her patented ‘get your arse away from me before I beat it’ stare shut him up completely.

  “You heard her,” Maisy said, voice steadier now, “I don’t need you. Now get out.”

  His eyebrow twitched again, “You think you can boss me around, slut?”

  “Watch it,” Dan growled, but Maisy held up her hand to signal to Dan that she had this under control.

  As far as Maisy knew, Matilda was very much exaggerating the amount of solo work coming her way, but that didn’t matter. Maisy was standing in the middle of her first solo event, which had been going very well before Michael turned up. Actually, it had been going perfectly.

  She’d pulled this off. She hadn’t just survived her first solo event, she’d excelled. Surrounded by friends from Drift and illustrious guests, who had her back even though they didn’t know her, she realised she didn’t need Michael or the firm in the slightest.

  Finally, after months of putting up with Michael’s incompetence and abuse, she was ready to strike out on her own. Not because she needed to get away, but because it was what she was meant to be doing. She was good at her job, really good, and she didn’t need the company to support her anymore. Or, more accurately, she couldn’t let the company hold her back while she worked her arse off to kept it afloat anymore.

  She smiled. Michael’s smug expression faltered. Perhaps he saw that he’d lost all power over Maisy, that he couldn’t make her feel uncomfortable anymore.

  Whatever it was, he was shaken enough to stammer when he spoke next, “You’re nothing without us.”

  Even he sounded unsure.

  “Please leave, you’re spoiling the party,” Maisy gave him her best customer service grin and gestured to the reception door. Matilda and Matt stepped aside, clearing his path in a way that told Michael exactly where to go and to do so quickly.

  He started on his way to the door then, gripped by the insanity that sometimes springs from an inadequate chauvinist being outdone by a woman, turned and slapped Maisy clear around the face.

  The force of the blow knocked her into Claude’s arms. The whole room gasped as if they’d been slapped themselves, surprised by the chaotic violence in this usually safe place.

  Daniel moved first as the shock of the moment faded. He grabbed Michael’s collar, pulled him forwards, and punched him square in the face. His nose broke with a satisfying crunch. The resultant spurt of blood splashed across the floor, sinking into Maisy’s red carpet without a trace.

  Michael staggered backwards, somehow surprised that his actions had brought consequences with them. “My nose,” he spluttered, spraying blood unattractively around his face.

  Daniel turned back to Maisy and Claude as if to dismiss Michael altogether. However, as soon as he saw Maisy’s red cheek, he turned back and punched Michael again, this time catching his cheekbone. He hoped it was enough to give him a black eye.

  “William,” Daniel said. He didn’t need to say anything else. William stepped up, grabbed Michael by the scruff of the neck, and shoved him towards the exit where the taciturn bouncer was waiting with open arms.

  Silence followed in their wake as every guest watched them go, then turned their eyes to Maisy, Dan, and Claude.

  Chapter 38

  Bad, Bad, Bad Cop

  Maisy rifled through the first aid box, tutting every few seconds. She knew full well that there was gauze in there somewhere because she’d restocked the box herself in anticipation of the event, but it was proving elusive now she needed it.

  Matilda re-joined them, having detoured to get a bowl of ice and water from the utility room. “You okay, sweet thing?” Matilda said, eyeing Dan’s bloody knuckles askance.

  Maisy grabbed a packet of gauze triumphantly, “Yeah, I’m fine. It was only a slap.” She was surprisingly unshaken. In fact, she felt full of energy and a sense of accomplishment. It was probably just adrenaline, but she felt pretty good at the moment and that was what mattered.

  “Mm.” Matilda put the bowl on the table of the booth they’d retreated to, “You put ice on your cheek, you hear?”

  Maisy nodded, distracted by mopping up Dan’s hand. Unheeded, Matilda backed away to the entrance of the tunnel, protecting their sanctuary from intruders and giving Maisy and Dan some privacy.

  “Thank you,” Maisy said, dabbing his cracked knuckles with an ice cube wrapped in damp gauze.

  “What for?” He’d given up trying to tell her his hand was fine. Maybe she just wanted to torture him with this sadistic cleaning process.

  “You know, for Michael. For standing up for me. Getting rid of him.”

  “You did the hard bit,” he said, grimacing as she sprayed him with some stinging disinfectant stuff.

  “Yeah. Still, thank you.”

  “I haven’t had a chance to say congratulations. The place looks incredible.” She nodded her thanks, concentrating on wrapping his hand with a clean bandage.

  “And congratulations for getting out of that job,” He continued, “I wish I’d known how bad things were,” he said.

  “I needed to do it myself,” she replied.

  He nodded, “You did a damn fine job, sweetheart.”

  She felt a little pang when he used the pet name, “It was a long time coming.”

  He took her hand, ignoring her protests about the bandaging, “I’m proud of you. I know that doesn’t mean anything coming from me, but I am proud of you.”

  Maisy paused for a moment, not sure how to react, then brought their hands up to her lips and kissed his palm. “Thank you,” She said. And she meant it.

  “I’m sorry,” He said.

  She smiled, “I know.”

  “Can I ever make it up to you?” His eyebrows furrowed, his sincerity was clear, but Maisy didn’t know what to say.

  She could tell him again what a fool he’d been. She could give him a hard time. She could tell him all about Harry’s benevolent reaction to her kinky secrets. She could tell him he didn’t deserve another chance to explain or make things right. She could tell him how none of it mattered anymore because she’d forgiven him as soon as he apologised.

  But, for now, all she said was, “Yes.”

  The look they exchanged then contained everything that had been between them and everything that might yet be.

  If they hadn’t been interrupted, that look might have gone on forever.

  William had found them in their quiet tunnel and he’d brought Jenna with him. Matilda abandoned her protective position by the entrance of the tunnel to join them all. Jenna winced when she saw Matilda take a seat next to Maisy. Two angry Drift Masters and a Mistress to boot, no wonder she looked unhappy.

  Maisy looked between William and Jenna and understood instantly why the trainee been brought to them. For some reason known only to Jenna and Michael, she’d let a stranger into Club Drift. She was a member here too. She’d violated her own privacy with this reckless act. It didn’t make any sense

  Once again, all Maisy could think to say was, “Why?”

  Jenna remained silent, not meeting anyone’s eye. William tutted loudly. “Speak now, pet, you know you’re better off talking to us than Claude.”

  For the first time since Maisy had been at the club, she saw an expression other than arrogance and frustration on Jenna’s face. She was unmistakably afraid. “Will he throw me out?” She asked, looking between the three senior members of the club and getting nothing but hard stares from any of them.

  “Maybe,” William said, “Maybe not. Depends what you tell us, doesn’t it?”

  Jenna shuddered, “Fine, but I don’t want her listening.”

  Maisy pointed at her own chest incredulously, “I’m ‘her,’ I take it?”

  Daniel took Maisy’s hand, “You just deliberately let a stranger into our club on a night when our most publicly recognis
able members are here en-masse. A stranger who you knew could impact Maisy’s outside life considerably. She will be here while you confess your reasons and you will beg forgiveness from her.”

  Maisy nearly interrupted to say that, actually, she wasn’t sure about all this begging for forgiveness lark, but Dan looked very cross, so she just nodded for now.

  Maybe she should get all the people who needed to beg forgiveness from her to line up in a neat row and express their regret through the medium of interpretive dance.

  Or maybe she’d been awake for far too long today already and she was likely to miss out on dinner because of this ridiculous interrogation.

  “Look, can you just spit it out, please?” She said, “I know these three will get it out of you eventually with their bad, bad, bad cop routine, but I’m really hungry and can’t be arsed to wait all night.”

  Jenna gaped at her for a moment before her features contorted in ugly rage. “See?” She said, gesturing furiously at Maisy, “She doesn’t even take you seriously. Why her and not me? Or any of the others? Why have you been chasing after a charity rat when you haven’t even helped with the trainees for months? Why didn’t you just leave the club when Alicia did if you weren’t even going to look at any of us, hm?”

  Dan was as surprised as everyone else was by Jenna’s outburst. For a moment nobody said anything, then Dan said, “But you and Alicia were friends?”

  Jenna groaned as if he’d said the stupidest thing she’d ever heard. She completely ignored the reproving glare Matilda gave her. Whatever power they had over her as a trainee was void at this moment. She was running on emotion alone.

  “Alicia was my friend. Exactly!” She said. When she realised that none of the other people in the room had understood what she clearly saw as an obvious fact, she sighed. “You’re all as stupid as her.”

  “I’m ‘her’ again, if anyone was wondering,” Maisy said, rummaging in a subbie basket under the table for water. Or chocolate. Hopefully there was chocolate in this one. Or maybe some painkillers, her face was starting to hurt after all.