Cora glanced at her lap for a long moment before finally looking up through her long lashes. “I don’t really know what to say here. I understand where Dmitri is coming from. The thing that means the most to him is falling apart. He feels that the members trusted him and that he’s let them down. He’s scrambling to somehow make this all better.”
“Yes, and that’s my point. That’s the biggest problem of all.” At Cora’s arched brow, Presley explained, “I should be the most important thing to him.”
After a moment Cora nodded. “You’re right. You should be.” She took Presley’s hand lightly in hers. “You know I will support you with any decision you make, so I guess the only thing left to ask is, what are you going to do?”
Presley looked down to their held hands. Her friendship with Cora had always been so uncomplicated. First they’d been best friends, then they’d been roommates, and then they’d become fellow submissives. Cora and she just fit. But Presley had changed since first meeting Cora. She’d become stronger. She’d tasted happiness.
Once Dmitri had told her to stand up for herself, and perhaps that lesson in the dungeon that one night—which seemed like a lifetime ago—had stuck more than she realized. She didn’t deserve this treatment, no matter what Dmitri was going through. She wouldn’t tolerate a man behaving as though she was second in his life, pushing her away and acting as if she was nothing more than a mindless fuck when things got tough. She wanted more than that for herself.
Hell, she deserved to be put first.
She sighed, embracing the strength rising inside her. “I’m going to do exactly what Dmitri would tell me to do.”
Cora’s eyebrows lifted. “Which is…?”
She loved Dmitri with every bit of her soul. But loving someone didn’t mean it was okay to let that person hurt her. She replied, “Be strong. Do what I want. And never allow anyone to treat me like shit.”
Chapter 5
Meeting arranged. Foxie’s, 1 p.m.
Dmitri stared at his phone, rereading Porter’s text. It was now a little after ten o’clock in the morning, and Dmitri sat at his sleek desk in his casino office. It was hard to believe that it had come to this. He fired off a reply confirming the meeting, all the while thinking of the next steps, strategizing his response to Steven.
His next text was to Aidan: Mind preparing a copyright agreement before noon? Might come in handy.
Aidan replied quickly. It’ll be delivered to your office within an hour.
Thank you, Dmitri texted back before he placed his cell next to his keyboard and stared out the glass windows into the main office. He mindlessly watched his employees hustling past his office. The looming afternoon conversation weighed on him, but much needed to be done before he mended Club Sin’s problems.
With plans in place and his confidence renewed about the path he needed to take, Dmitri spent the rest of the morning focusing on the casino, though the situation with Presley was never far from his mind. His fingers twitched to reach for his phone and call her, yet how could he? It was impossible for him to right all that had gone wrong when he couldn’t tell her the truth.
His heavy heart begged to reach out to her. But his mind told him to wait. The truth would cripple her, and he would never do that to her.
On top of it all, he was scrambling trying to settle things at the casino, rescheduling his meetings for the next couple of days.
By the time lunch rolled around, Dmitri’s mind was quieter as he drove down the strip toward Foxie’s, a five-star restaurant known for its fine Italian cuisine. His muscles twitched as he parked at the curb and grabbed from the passenger seat the envelope containing the agreement that Aidan had sent over. Everything inside of him wanted to make this personal. Nothing would please him more than to take all his frustration out on Steven. But with Club Sin on the line, not to mention Presley’s well-being, he would keep this all business.
Nothing more. Nothing less.
The hot sun beat down on the shoulders of his tailored black suit as he exited his sports car, refastening the top button of the jacket. He spotted Kyler waiting outside the door of the restaurant wearing his police uniform. While Dmitri had known that Kyler was working today, he also thought the uniform only helped their case now. “Ready?” he asked.
Kyler gave a firm nod. “Always.”
Dmitri noted the twinkle in Kyler’s eyes—clearly he would be happy to deal with Steven. But this show belonged to Dmitri, no one else. “I need you to stay close, but let me talk to him alone.”
Kyler paused, clearly annoyed. “If that’s what you want.”
“That’s what I want.” What I need to do, Dmitri thought as he opened the door to the classy restaurant he’d visited many times for business. Tables covered with white linen were spread out through the small rectangular restaurant. It came as no surprise the restaurant was busy, as the Italian food was the best he’d ever tasted. But food was not his focus today.
Dmitri scanned the tables, searching for Steven. He found Presley’s ex-fiancé by one of the large windows to the right of the bar. Steven was a good two heads shorter than Dmitri and had less bulk, indicating to Dmitri that Steven didn’t spend much time in the gym. Wearing casual clothing, Steven seemed out of place in the fancy restaurant—out of place in Dmitri’s world. Dmitri enjoyed that.
“May I help you?”
Dmitri addressed the young brunette dressed in a black pantsuit. “No, thank you. My guest has already arrived.” Noticing the hostess’s astonished expression, Dmitri glanced over his shoulder to see Kyler looking rather foreboding in his uniform.
Kyler smiled tightly. “Unofficial business, I assure you.”
“Okay,” the greeter said. “Shall I show you to the table?”
Dmitri lifted his hand. “No need.”
Not waiting for a reply, he strode past her. It had been almost two years since he’d seen Presley’s ex-fiancé. He hadn’t changed much, and Dmitri liked knowing that Presley had changed a lot, knowing she deserved so much more than this asshole.
Hearing laughter and conversation around him, tension burned through Dmitri. As he closed in on the table, Kyler took his position at the bar.
One step.
Two steps.
Three steps.
Then Dmitri was directly behind Steven, who was drinking a cola.
His muscles quivered with a desire to hurt this man, but Dmitri pushed it back. He knew better than to piss Steven off. Today was about coming to an agreement. He reminded himself to stay focused and confident, no lashing out.
When Dmitri moved to the seat across from Steven, unbuttoned his jacket, and sat down, the fucker slowly glanced up. Stunned brown eyes under thick eyebrows met Dmitri, and a flush crept across Steven’s thin face. Dmitri held his stare, knowing Steven would read nothing in his expression—a trick he’d perfected over the years that had served him well in high-stakes business negotiations.
Dmitri wanted to make Steven uncomfortable.
Scared, even.
He placed the envelope on the table next to the glass of water, and when Steven started to rise, Dmitri said sternly, “Sit down, or I’ll have you arrested for blackmail.” He tipped his chin toward Kyler, who stood at the bar, arms crossed over his chest.
Steven regarded Kyler a moment before he gingerly sat back down, his anger obvious. “What do you want?”
A thousand questions and demands rushed through Dmitri’s mind, but only one remained important. “What is your motive behind the pictures?”
Red-hot wrath burned across Steven’s face. “How did you—”
“The how is not important.” Dmitri leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. “Only the motive is. What’s your play?”
Steven’s jaw twitched, those brown eyes black with ire. “I’m sure you know exactly why.”
“For Presley?”
Steven straightened in his seat, studying Dmitri. “I’m protecting her.”
“By exposing her
to the tabloids?” Dmitri scoffed.
“By showing her parents exactly what she has turned into, and to get her back home to Apple Valley.” Steven’s nostrils flared. “She’s changed now. Different. I’ve seen her at your house wearing slutty clothes. That is not the Presley I know. I told her before, and I’ll say it again—I owe her this for the wrong I did to her. It’s for her own good.”
Dmitri knew that Steven thought Presley had fallen into a deep depression because he had cheated on her. In fact, Steven couldn’t have been more wrong. It just reminded Dmitri that Steven didn’t really know her. Not the real her. Not the special woman Dmitri knew.
He concentrated on keeping his face emotionless as Steven added, “I know that she only works part-time now, since her employer told me when I called to get an appointment with Presley. You’ve completely taken control of her life!” Flames of anger filled his eyes, and his lip curled. “My mother talks to her mother, and she has told me that Presley’s mother still thinks Presley is working full-time. She is too fucking scared—or ashamed—to even talk to her mother. Did you know that I’m still so connected to the family?”
“No, I did not.” That connection didn’t bother Dmitri. Presley’s mother was a sweet woman. He assumed that she would keep in touch with the family that had almost been her in-laws. He also suspected Presley didn’t tell her mother about the change in her job, because that was entirely like Presley—always worried about what others would think of her.
Besides, Dmitri heard the underlying point: Steven thought Presley was a complete mess and that Dmitri was the man who was bulldozing her.
That was so far from the truth it was almost laughable. Almost.
When Dmitri offered nothing more, Steven sneered. “What you’ve done with her is wrong, man. She was a good girl, had a good head on her shoulders, and a great job. You’ve belittled her and made her nothing but your sex slave.”
“In your eyes.” Dmitri countered, clenching and unclenching his fists. “Only in your eyes.”
“If you love her and aren’t using her for your perverted lifestyle, why haven’t you married her? From what I hear, you’re not even engaged.” The flush on Steven’s face deepened. “It’s because you don’t respect her enough to do it. Isn’t that right?”
A line was being crossed here, and Dmitri fought to keep a level head. He leaned in a bit closer and warned, “Be careful, Steven.”
“Do you forget that I was engaged to her?” Steven shot back, jarring the table with his leg and rattling the glasses on top. “I’ve known her longer. She’s a sweet girl who’s been corrupted by a powerful pervert.”
Dmitri let the insult roll off his back. Ignorance was ignorance. “You honestly believe that outing her in a public magazine is going to somehow fix her?”
“No.” Steven leaned back in his seat with a proud look. “I believe that outing her is going to ruin you and expose your sick sex club. And that maybe, just maybe, she’ll be so embarrassed she’ll go home to her family. And then she’ll get her fucking head on straight again.” Guilt flashed through his eyes, though it quickly vanished. “I hurt her. I’m taking ownership of that. This is my amends for what I did to her.”
Dmitri absorbed that, shaking his head. Of course, those in the vanilla world didn’t understand what Club Sin was about. He couldn’t begrudge anyone their lack of knowledge, because the club was too secretive for anyone outside it to truly know how it worked.
Before Dmitri had discovered that it was Steven behind the leak, he’d wanted to bury that person; now he wanted Steven to go away quietly. It had become personal—too personal. The root of this involved Presley. And Dmitri needed to clean this up as quickly and peacefully as possible.
“Can I get you a drink?”
Dmitri blinked as the voice drew him out of his thoughts. He glanced up at the blond waitress and shook his head. “No, thank you. I won’t be here long.”
The waitress gave both him and Steven a searching look, clearly not blind to the tension between them, before she strode away. Dmitri shut his eyes a moment, pushing away the emotion clouding his mind. Business, he reminded himself. He reopened his eyes, finding Steven’s on his. “Everyone has a price. Name yours.”
“Price?” Steven repeated with clear confusion.
“Financial incentive,” Dmitri explained. “What amount of money would make you hand over the photos and sign a copyright agreement giving me ownership of the pictures.”
Steven’s eyes widened for only a second before his glare returned. “You think I’m doing this for the money?”
“I’m well aware you think you are doing this to help Presley.” Dmitri leaned back in his seat, noticing Kyler’s posture relax a smidgen, too. “I also know that money is a motivator here, since you aren’t offering to publish the pictures for free.” He tapped his finger against the table. “I can top their offer. Name your price.”
“I don’t want your money,” Steven spat out.
Dmitri studied this nothing of a man, more than done with this conversation. “You have two choices here. Only one is in your favor.” He raised one finger. “First choice. The pictures are printed, and then I will go after you with every resource I have. You’ll be arrested for blackmailing me, and I’ll bury you in lawsuits.” He lifted a second finger. “Second choice. You take my generous offer to purchase the pictures, sign the copyright over to me, and this gets put to rest. Those are the only two ways this is going to go.”
Steven stared at Dmitri for a long moment, the fight of refusal burning in the depths of his eyes, until his shoulders finally slumped in defeat. “You’re a fucking asshole.”
“I told you once, Steven, that Vegas is my city,” Dmitri said through gritted teeth. “You can threaten me, but I will never let you tarnish Presley’s good name. You have thirty seconds to make a decision.” He gestured to Kyler, who watched the exchange, arms crossed over his chest. “Then I will make the decision for you.”
Clinks from the silverware on the dishes filled the room, as did low conversations coming from the tables around them. Dmitri focused on the darkness fluttering across Steven’s face. He didn’t have a way out. What Steven had done was classic blackmail, and Dmitri had enough proof to see the case through. Steven, while a foolish idiot, wasn’t stupid.
As the seconds drew on Dmitri saw the acceptance wash over Steven’s expression. “The magazine offered fifteen thousand for the group of pictures,” Steven snarled. “From you? I’d take nothing less than three hundred thousand.”
Dmitri wanted nothing more than to reach across the table and level Steven. Yet with his members’ privacy on the line, with Presley’s heart riding on this, it made his decision easy. “Final number?”
“Yes. Non-negotiable.”
Dmitri saw the doubt in Steven’s eyes; he didn’t believe Dmitri would pay that much money. And, maybe to some, it was absolutely ridiculous. But Dmitri had made promises to those in his club, and he couldn’t live with himself if they were broken. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a business card. “What’s your bank and account number?”
At the ensuing silence, Dmitri lifted his head and found Steven staring with huge eyes, shock reflecting in their depths. “This is a business deal, Steven. I’m treating it as such. I have no time to piss around with you. Tell me the information so we can be done with it.”
Steven rattled off his bank information, and Dmitri wrote it on the back of his card. Once finished, he took out the copyright agreement from the envelope, handing it to Steven. “If you break this agreement, I will go after you for more money than you have, and bankruptcy will look like a great option when I’m done.” He arched a brow. “Do you understand?”
“Ah…” Steven cleared his throat. “Yeah.” He accepted the document and began reading it over. It simply stated that any photo taken by Steven or anyone he hired of Dmitri or anyone who came to his home belonged to Dmitri. If Steven published the pictures, he would be in violation of copyright
laws.
Dmitri pulled out the final piece of paper from the envelope, an agreement that he had drafted himself before leaving his office. He added the amount of $300,000 to the agreement. “This is a promise letter securing your money. If I don’t follow through, you can sue me to get it.”
His body bristling with tension, Dmitri gestured toward the bar. “Kyler will follow you to your house and pick up any remaining pictures you have, since I know you’ve made copies and likely have them stored on your hard drive. Once he calls and tells me he has them, I will transfer the money into your account.”
Steven watched Dmitri a moment, then he picked up the pen on the table and signed the agreement. Once finished, he pushed the document back to Dmitri. “I will agree to that.”
Deal done, Dmitri allowed his anger to now show on his face. He rose, leaning down to Steven to make sure he understood what he was about to hear. “Believe me when I say to you that I never want to see you again. Take this as the warning it is meant to be. Do not come near Presley, myself, or anyone I know. I told you once before that I could bury you in Vegas. I don’t appreciate having to repeat myself.”
Steven attempted a return glare, but it held no strength now. “Is that a threat?”
“Not a threat,” Dmitri growled. “A promise.”
Chapter 6
Later that day, and minutes before four o’clock that afternoon, Dmitri exited the stretch limo, staring up at the modern skyscraper in the heart of the Financial District of San Francisco. He inhaled the scent of bacon-wrapped hot dogs being grilled by a vendor farther down the street.
The driver shut the limo door behind him as a streetcar whizzed by. Dmitri noticed a sidewalk café on the corner, regretting there was no time to grab a cup of coffee. Exhaustion weighed on him down to his bones. Determined to get this meeting over with and return to Presley, he headed toward the tall black high-rise.
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