I shouldn’t want those things. Not from her. I don’t like that she feels like an addiction. That since we last spoke, I’ve looked at my emails and been disappointed not to see her name. That when my phone has rung, I’m unhappy it’s not her. I’m not comfortable with how, in her quest for a new life, Veronica has somehow thrown mine into chaos.
My friend Jillian Santoro, wife to one of my best friends, Leo, always asks me how I can be so unrelenting in my dominance. So cool and collected and in control, never expressing any emotions or attachment. Her only experience is with Leo, and the two of them are so in love, the power exchange in their relationship only heightens and deepens their connection. She can’t understand how I remain so detached.
What she doesn’t understand, and what I won’t explain, is it’s because I have no emotion. Of course, I feel fondly toward them. I like them. I never take advantage of their submission. I treat them with the utmost respect and appreciation. When I’m with a woman I ensure an experience she’ll never forget.
But I can’t remember the last woman I slept with where I cared if she walked away.
Of course, they never do. Because of my nature, I attract submissive women to whom cool, casual dismissal is like crack.
Stephanie is like that. Sitting here, having to bear my silence is making her impossibly wet. She’s practically melting with desire. The longer I sit here, taking no action, the more lust thrums through her. My lack of attention on her, my casual disregard to her growing petulance and restlessness, is more effective than any foreplay I could dream up.
She shifts again in her chair, sucking a breath as her thighs probably press against her bare cunt. Other than a brush of my lips on her cheek, I haven’t laid a finger on her, but I know she doesn’t have panties on because she’s forbidden to be in my presence with them on. That’s the rule. If she knows she’s going to see me, they are to be taken off as soon as the plans are solidified. If I show up unexpected, she is to remove them the second she sees me.
If I take her, use her body as my own personal playground, some of my agitation will abate. To me, dominating women is calming. If I fuck Stephanie, I will go into my dinner with Veronica tomorrow night with a clear head.
It’s the only rational action. And rational is the only approach I take with women.
I meet Stephanie’s glazed eyes and, without breaking contact, lift my glass to take a drink before slowly putting the snifter down on the table. She leans forward, ready for me, anticipating what I will do next.
I open my lips to issue her forward, but those aren’t the words that come. “Stephanie, I’m afraid we need to talk.”
5
Veronica
With my hand on the handle that will lead me into The Lair, I take a deep breath, mentally trying to prepare myself for my dinner with Brandon. I haven’t seen him since the night of the benefit and I can’t help wondering if I’ll experience the same pull I had that night out on the balcony.
I hadn’t known what this dinner would entail. Was it business? An interview? Something else entirely? I’ve had days to think about him. And I’d spent most of that time fending off messages from Winston, packing up the few belongings I want to take with me into my new life, and researching Brandon. For a modern man, he’s conspicuously absent from the online world. Yes, there are plenty of pictures of him, plenty of speculation in society rags. But he’s not on any social media. Even his club, one of the hottest spots in town, is mysterious. He has a website, but it isn’t typical. It’s basically a landing page with a picture of an opulent bar that’s a cross between a French boudoir and clubhouse. There’s only one sentence: The only way to know is to experience it yourself. Other than the address that’s the only information.
So I have no idea what to expect when I open this door, but it feels a little like I’m Alice about to tumble through the looking glass. The uncertainty regarding the nature of our dinner had made choosing an outfit difficult. In the end, I’d worn my hair down and sleek, curving over my shoulders, and a black dress with a squared neck and three-quarter sleeves that comes to my knees.
It’s a dress right for almost any occasion.
I take a deep breath to calm my racing heart and enter.
The picture didn’t do the place justice. It’s like nothing I’d quite seen before. It’s all deep reds, and rich woods. It’s the type of place I’d envision for a nineteenth-century drawing room. It’s huge, but with the low lights, and buttery leather furniture combined into separate chat areas, it’s oddly intimate.
Brandon’s club is a visual representation of the man himself. Deep, rich, otherworldly and sophisticated. There’s a beautiful woman with raven hair standing at a small podium wearing a silky midnight-blue dress that drips off her.
She offers me a welcoming smile. “I’m afraid we’re invitation only tonight. May I help you?”
It’s a genius marketing move, making the club so exclusive, but somehow I doubt that Brandon planned it that way. If I had to guess, he does it because it’s what he wants, the success of the tactic, merely a byproduct.
“I have an—” I stumble a tiny bit over my word choice. “Appointment with Brandon Townsend.”
Expression clearing, she nods. “Ah, one moment, please.”
I stand there, waiting, taking in my surroundings and letting them wrap around me. I become so caught up in the details I don’t even see him approach until he’s in front of me.
I blink, and I can’t lie, my heart rolls over before falling into a rapid beat. I didn’t think it would be possible for him to look better than he did in a tux, but I was wrong. Blond men aren’t supposed to be dangerous looking, that’s a trait I’d always reserved for dark hair and brooding eyes, but Brandon appears to be the exception. He’s dressed in all black, wearing a form-fitting black knit shirt that clings to his broad chest and even broader shoulders. His pants are so well crafted, such a perfect cut on his slim hips, they could only be custom made for him.
I don’t know if it’s because of the conversations I’ve had with him, or that he’s spent so much time occupying my thoughts, but he’s even more stunning than when I last saw him.
He smiles, flashing his dimples, and it dazzles me. “Hello, Veronica.”
Heart a frantic beat I nod. “Brandon. It’s a pleasure to see you again.”
He glances at a thick-banded watch on his wrist. “You’re early.”
I tilt my chin. “Did you think I’d work this hard and show up late?”
“No, I didn’t.” He steps close to me, close enough to suck in the subtle scent of his aftershave, something spicy and mysterious. “Come on, I’ll show you around.”
My lashes flutter, ever so slightly. “I’d like that.”
Instead of moving, our gazes lock, and the air thickens between us. We stand, not saying anything, but the silence feels like a thousand unspoken words. His eyes skim over my face, lingering on my mouth, down the curve of my neck, before traveling back up.
“Are you ready?” His voice is like a caress over my skin.
I shake my head and my words are a bit too husky. “Not really.”
The corners of his lips tilt up. “And why’s that?”
I’m well aware I shouldn’t desire him. That if I want a job I need to keep things professional and businesslike, but that seems impossible right now. There’s something between us. Something that burns hot and fierce. Something about him calls to that secret part of me I’ve kept hidden for so long I no longer have a name for it. It’s like he knows me and I know him. Like we are different sides of the same coin. At least to myself, I’ve stopped pretending that this is about the position. Now it feels like something more.
I swallow hard. “When I walked in I thought I felt a little like Alice tumbling down the looking glass.”
He leans impossibly closer, his body warming me without a single touch. “Tumble away, Alice.”
“I will.” I square my shoulders. “I’m not backing down.”
/> “I never expected anything less.” He stands to the side to allow me to move in front of him. When I step forward, he puts his palm on the base of my spine, and it about sears me through my dress. “I have a few things to take care of before we leave.”
“Not a problem.” The imprint of his hand feels like a brand. We walk through the room, he steers me through the clusters of tables and I can’t help commenting. “This place is spectacular.”
His palm drops away, leaving a cold spot in his wake. “Thank you. I wanted to do something different.”
I stare up at the ceiling, it’s intricate with wood and decorated tiles. “You’ve succeeded. The ceiling alone is a work of art.”
He stops and points upward, giving me a chance to soak it all in. “I imported the wood and tiles from a church in France that was in disrepair. I’ve always loved old, beautiful things.”
I glance at him. “Me too. Everything is so sterile now, don’t you think?”
“Yes, that’s exactly it.” He meets my gaze. “Maybe it’s because of how we grew up, surrounded by all that old money and history.”
“I’m sure you’re right.” I smile. “My grandparents live in a historic mansion in Lake Forest and it’s always been my favorite place.”
Something flashes in his expression. “I live in a historic home left to me by my grandparents. A lot of it is original work.”
I bite my lower lip and he tracks the movement, his blue eyes darkening. “I’m sure it’s beautiful.”
“It is. It’s old and rambling, but it’s my favorite place.”
“It’s your home, it should be.”
His gaze flickers and he tilts his head toward the back. “My friends are in the corner.”
I glance over his shoulder and see three couples, all with various shades of dark hair, all beautiful, and all staring at me with curious faces. I look back at Brandon. “They’re watching us.”
He laughs. “Indeed they are.”
I get an impulse and don’t ignore it. “Do they check out all your prospective employees?”
“I’m sure they’re not above it.” He touches my arm. “I’ll take you to meet them.”
“If they hate me, will you refuse to hire me?”
His gaze narrows. “They won’t hate you, but they have no bearing on my business decisions.”
“Does that mean I have a chance?” I have to know. He’s throwing me off, everything about our interactions screams intimacy, chemistry and attraction. I have to orientate this night in my head, so I can act appropriately.
He looks down at me. “I don’t know quite what to do with you yet, Veronica.”
That gives me no answers, but I’m smart enough not to press at this point in time. “Fair enough.”
“Come. You’ll like them, I promise.” He turns, and walks in front of me toward the couples sitting in the corner.
I follow, my stomach doing a little dance. I have no idea who these people are, other than they are friends of Brandon’s, and I’ve never seen them before. They are most certainly not part of my world. Which is an exciting prospect to me. Further solidifying my irrational belief that Brandon holds the key to the life I’ve been searching for.
When we’re in front of the group, Brandon gestures me forward. “This is Veronica Westwood.” He offers no explanation of who I am, or why I’m here, leaving me further in the dark about what this dinner date with him might mean.
He points to the couple sitting on the loveseat. “This is my oldest friend, Michael Banks, and his soon-to-be wife, Layla Hunter. Michael and I were roommates at the University of Pennsylvania.”
I’m very practiced at social graces, a skill beaten into me since I was old enough to talk. I offer my most brilliant smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“You too, Veronica.” Michael’s voice is slightly rough and deep, his unusual hazel eyes direct. He’s large, even seated he looks impossibly tall and broad. With his arm over the arm of the loveseat, and his finger casually drifting over his fiancée’s skin, he manages to be somehow both gorgeous and scary. The woman to his right is almost hauntingly beautiful, with dark flowing hair and blue eyes. Together, they are the kind of couple you watch as they walk past on the street.
Layla smiles. “And how do you know Brandon?”
“No grilling, girl,” Brandon says in an exasperated voice before turning to another couple sitting together on a large chair. The man is dark and looks Italian. The woman next to him is pretty, tall, with full, lush lips, and the same unusual eyes as Michael, signaling some sort of relation. “This is Leo and Jillian Santoro. Leo and Michael are homicide detectives and partners. Jillian is Michael’s sister.”
My expression widens in pleasure. Real live cops. “It’s so nice to meet you, I had the pleasure of meeting Superintendent Fitzgerald a few months ago.”
Leo’s brow rises. “Oh, really?”
I nod. “Yes, I attended a benefit for the National Law Enforcement Officers Memorial Fund.”
“In D.C.?” Michael inquires, his expression interested.
Before I can answer, Brandon interjects. “Veronica’s family is very influential and does a lot of charity work both locally and nationally.”
Leo looks at me with narrowed eyes. “How interesting.”
His wife, Jillian waves her hand. “Ignore them, it’s so nice to meet you.”
Her expression is warm and friendly, and I feel an instant ease. “Thank you, you too.”
Brandon gestures to the remaining couple on a chair. A clean-cut, good-looking guy and a woman with the coloring of Snow White and wearing a red dress is perched on his knee. “This is Chad Fellows and his new fiancée, Ruby Stiles.” He winks at the woman. “The lovely Ruby is going to be singing for us in a few minutes, isn’t that right?”
She gives him a little eye roll and shrugs one shoulder. “That’s the rumor.”
“It’s great to meet you both,” I say. They are a striking couple, but they don’t quite look like they go together. She’s got a rocker vibe that’s in contrast to Chad’s all-American looks.
Chad nods. “You too, Veronica.” He gestures to an empty, leather winged-back chair. “You should have a seat.”
I glance at Brandon, unsure of what his plans are, but he nods. “I want to hear Ruby sing. I had a sound system installed and this is a practice run to see how the acoustics are.”
“Great.” I sink into the chair and cross my legs demurely before smiling at Ruby. “What’s it like to be a singer?”
She shakes her head. “I’m only one in my spare time. I’m a graphic designer by trade.”
“I’d love to be able to at least carry a tune, but I’m afraid I’m hopeless,” I say.
A pretty blonde girl that appears to be in her early twenties walks up to Brandon. She gives him a fluttery glance before biting her lower lip. “Reggie is looking for you, Sir.”
“Very well.” He shifts his attention to me. “Can I trust you to stay out of trouble until I get back?”
Something about his words warms my skin, so I shrug. “Does that mean hacking into your computer system is a no go?”
His expression flashes as the couples laugh. He raises his brow. “With your hacker, most certainly.”
There’s something about him that makes it impossible for me to resist bantering with him. I snap my fingers. “And I have him on standby, too bad.”
He puts his hands into his pockets. “Which reminds me, I still need his name. You never know when those skills can be put to good use.”
I smile sweetly. “You’ll have to pry his name from my cold, dead fingers. I’m sworn to secrecy.”
He laughs. “I have plenty of ways to extract information that doesn't include murder.”
It feels like a warning. Like a promise. And by the scowl that forms on the waitress’s face, I’m certain it’s not in my imagination. “I’ll shore up my defenses.”
“See that you do.” Brandon shifts his attention to his friends
. “Don’t let her wander off.”
Without a backward glance, he swivels and walks off with the girl, leaving me alone with these six people that all know him better than anyone else. These are the people he’s taken into his private world, and I want to know them. Impress them. Learn from them.
I put my hands on the arms of the chair, cock a grin and say, “Would it be safer if you tied my hands to the chair?”
Just like I wanted them to, they all laugh before passing each other sly glances I don’t understand.
Chad curves his hand over his fiancée’s hip. “That could be arranged.”
Ruby’s lips quiver before blinking innocently back at me.
Leo scrubs a hand over his jaw. “Hmmm… Do you think Brandon has any rope lying around?”
This causes a chorus of hearty laughter.
Jillian’s expression goes wide. “I don’t know. What on earth would Brandon do with rope? He’d never.”
In this brief exchange I learn a few things: one, their closeness is obvious. As is their ease. They have a warmth about them I’ve never experienced with my group of so-called friends and it makes me envious. They have what I’m looking for. And two, they are all sharing a secret I’m not a part of, that eludes me.
Layla clears her throat and smiles. “But seriously, how do you know Brandon?”
I decide on the barest details. “My family and Brandon’s family are old acquaintances. We ran into each other at a benefit about a week ago.”
Jillian nods. “And now you’re going to dinner together?”
I clear my throat. I don’t want them thinking this is a date when it’s not. “It’s a business dinner. That’s all.”
Jillian glances at her husband who winks at her. She turns her attention back to me. “I see.”
I’m not sure what to say because they are clearly speculating. The best way to get people to open up is to be forthcoming, so I lean forward as though I’m about to reveal important information. “I want him to hire me for his general manager position.” I glance behind Michael and Layla to where Brandon disappeared down a hall. “He’s…reluctant.”
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