by Cara Dee
She flushes and ducks her head. "Crap, you're right. I'm sorry. I'll back down."
"It's all right, hon." I hug her to me and kiss the side of her head. "I know you get excited and want everybody to settle down and have a bunch of babies."
Almost everyone cracks up at that, so I assume they've heard about Kayla's matchmaking ways, too. Even when she was single, her focus was on finding the perfect match for her friends.
*
I'll back down, Kayla told me earlier.
I nearly snort.
If backing down meant inviting Rio—who's here with a fucking date!—to my gig, I fear finding out what full speed ahead would entail.
As I wrap up another love song—a beautiful Duffy tune—I kick off my heels and attach the mic to the stand. The spotlight keeps me from seeing the faces of the people in the crowd, although I was able to spot Kayla, Nicholas, Brayden, Evangeline, and Mark earlier.
Rio, too. And the woman he's here with.
Though, unlike Kayla and the others who are occupying one of the round tables in front of the low stage, Rio and Whatsherface are standing at the end of the bar.
Feel free to leave.
After the munch earlier today, I went home and ended up bitching to Jase and Robby about Rio. They didn’t deserve my ranting, but I couldn’t help it. I'm frustrated, confused, hurt, and pissed. Dangerous combination for any woman.
Once I was done, Jase told me I better put on my big-girl panties and confront Rio. It's the only way to get answers as to why he treats me like I stomped on his sandcastle. So my big-girl panties are on, and I'm ready to ask what his problem with me is, but I can't say seeing him here with a date makes me wanna approach him all sweet and polite.
In fact, defiance surges forward to the point where I decide to change the last song. The house band behind me already has the sheet music because I'm supposed to sing it for Ladies' Night tomorrow, but with the lyrics in mind, I want it now. Right fucking now.
I thank my little audience and announce the final song for the evening. What with it being Lovers' Night and all, I figure some explainin' is necessary. "How about we dedicate the last song to the frogs we kissed before meeting our princes and princesses." I grin into the hot spotlight, chuckles from the people giving me a boost of confidence, and wipe sweat off the back of my neck. Turning around, I murmur the song to the drummer, guitarist, and bass player, and they nod in understanding.
As the first notes fill the bar, I swear I can hear Kayla and Evangeline laughing. Maybe they’ve heard the song before and know where my mind is at.
The song is upbeat and fun, and it completely annihilates the poor attempts of a guy who flirts by being pompous and dry.
"Thanks for the offer…but I'm not going home with you." I bring the mic over to the rockabilly-hot guitarist. "Trust me, mister, the attitude ain't cool."
He grins and sings the next words with me. "Now who's the fool?" Then he winks, and I blow him a kiss before returning to the front of the stage.
And my reason for picking the damn song tonight… "Congrats on your success and all that jazz." I make sure to face the bar, and I fire off a playful pistol shot in Rio's direction. "But I'm not blind, and I see you're just an ass."
Take that, almighty Master.
*
I'm in the tiny room backstage struggling to get out of my even tinier black dress when Kayla and Evangeline barge in.
"You were awesome!" Kayla hugs me tightly, and she realizes very quickly I'm in need of a shower. "Oh…" She grimaces and smiles at the same time and breaks the hug. "Gets hot with those lights on stage, huh?"
"Little bit," I chuckle. "Glad you enjoyed the gig, though."
"Girl, your voice is out of this world," Evangeline says.
I'm no good with compliments regarding my singing, so I grin and wave it off. Then I refocus on getting outta my dress, and Kayla grabs my white tank top from a chair.
"I can't wait to go home and jump into the shower." I put on the top, then get crackin' with my skinny jeans. "And I'm starving."
"You're not going to have a drink with us first?" Kayla gives me the puppy-dog look she pulls on Nicholas.
I snort and slip my feet into my sneakers. "Not after someone invited Rio here tonight." Who. Brought. A. Damn. Date. "Seriously, Kayla. How could you?"
I may or may not be jealous of his date, which is totally irrational.
"Pay up." Kayla makes a gimme motion at Evangeline. "Did I not tell you she was gonna blame me for Rio being here?" I frown in confusion as Kayla faces me with a smug look. "For your information, nobody invited him. Nicholas told him where we were going. That’s it."
"That…" doesn’t make sense. "Rio couldn’t have known I was singing—that I was here."
After he told Nicholas he specifically didn’t want me anywhere near him, Rio wouldn’t seek me out. That’s batshit crazy right there.
Kayla shrugs and pockets ten bucks from Evangeline. "Maybe he wants to talk to you. He just ordered a new beer when we left our table to come in here."
But, but, but!
I don’t know what to make of this.
Evangeline hums and lifts a brow in Kayla's direction. "Then again, would he bring his slave if he wanted to talk to Chelsea?"
My stomach drops. "He has a slave?"
Considering Rio's reputation in the community, it's not that much of a surprise, but according to Kayla, he's been in a rut or something. Only playing every now and then, mostly volunteering as a DM, and never scening with a sub more than once or twice.
"I'm still working on that one." Kayla scowls into the air and bites her thumbnail. "Miranda's one of the waitresses—"
"So the bitch has a name." I gather my things and shove them into my bag.
Kayla ignores my crap and goes on. "She used to have the biggest crush on Mark—"
It's Evangeline's turn to interrupt. "Mine." She sneers, and I pull a sweater over my head. "I'd put Master's cock in a cage if it weren't for…you know, the beating he'd give me."
"I've heard you like that, though." I wink.
"Okay, you two have got to stop cutting me off!" Kayla huffs. "Anyway. Her last relationship with a Dom was a nonsexual one, so perhaps that’s Rio's deal. I'll do some more digging." A firm nod.
As much as I admire her willingness to help, I'm not sure it's worth the hassle. I'm gonna be living here, so I'm still set on talking to Rio, but I can catch him when he's alone. Right now I'm only tired and itching to shower and eat my body weight in ice cream.
"Don’t get yourself in trouble." I shoulder my bag and kiss her forehead. "I'm gonna head out, but you guys have fun."
"We can't convince you to stick around?" Evangeline looks concerned.
I smile and give her a brief hug. "Nah. Say hi to your men for me, but I wanna go home."
Probably sensing I can't be swayed, they let me leave, and I track down the bar's owner. He praises my performance and says, as he hands me my money, that he's looking forward to making me a regular for Wednesdays and Thursdays.
His words cause some of the tightness in my body to ease up, and maybe my private life is a little uprooted at the moment, but I'm doing pretty damn well work-wise. I gotta thank Nicholas again for my position at one of his clubs, 'cause that’s definitely the paycheck that lets me live where I live.
"You'll be a local star in no time, darling." André kisses my cheeks and grabs my shoulders, a smirk on his face. "I want your two nights here in writing, because once I promote you, bitches all over the Castro will want to hire you for gigs."
I chuckle self-consciously, tongue in cheek. "Is it against policy to call my boss a drama queen?"
"Certainly!" His laughter tells otherwise. "Although, I can forgive you if you manage to bring Tristan down here sometime."
Oh, I'm sure. What is it with that quiet roommate of mine? Yeah, he's hot, but he's so…shy, introverted, and prim. Maybe he gives magic blow jobs or has an enchanted butt. Who knows?
O
nce I've said goodbye to André, I make my way down the hallway toward the back exit. The kitchen has closed for the night, so it's only me back here. I'm guessing the guys from the band are either having drinks or have already gone home.
With a push to the door, I step out into the night, and I suck in a breath as the February cold hits me.
Why didn’t I bring a jacket?
An alley cat rushes past me toward one of the two Dumpsters.
"Chelsea?"
Chapter 4
"Jesus!" I whip to the right and squint at the mouth of the alley as the figure of a man moves closer. And my mind has already registered the owner of that voice. "What the fuck're you doin' hea'?" I didn’t mean to spit it out like that, but color me fucking shocked.
It was merely a few days ago Rio told Nicholas he didn’t want me here, and now… Not only did he come to my gig tonight, but he hunts me down in the alley outside the bar?
"Still the hostile New Yorker I remember," he says in a mild voice. He emerges from the darkness and comes to a stop a few feet away from me.
Too damn beautiful. Really, Rio Kelly is a beautiful man. All edges and contrasts, but oh, so smooth.
My heart skips a beat, and I kick myself internally for losing my shit for even a second.
I'm not sixteen anymore.
"I wasn’t hostile back then," I tell him irritably. "I just wanted the D, and you didn’t deliver."
His brows rise, nearly touching the edge of his black beanie. Unlike me, he's dressed properly in a nice jacket, scarf, beanie, and gloves. "The D?"
I roll my eyes and adjust my bag. "Your dick, genius."
Now his eyes narrow. "You're lucky we're not in the club right now, little girl—"
"Don’t pull that shit on me," I warn, getting heated in an instant. "Ten years ago, I had to push you for half an eternity to tell me that you cane brats who disrespect your Domly ass. But now you can whip out the Dom card ten seconds after seeing me again? I don’t think so."
I don’t want her here. I don’t want her here. I don’t want her here.
Being so close to Rio right this minute makes his words in Nicholas's office cut me even deeper. Masking the hurt with rage is easy, though.
"I see." He's displeased, to say the least. Not that I give a fuck. I haven't done anything to deserve his treatment. Or rather, avoidance. "In that case, may I ask what I have done to offend you? Because I sincerely hope you don’t speak to everyone like this."
"Thank you so much for your concern." My voice drips with sarcasm. "But you don’t have to worry about how I talk to my friends—or strangers. And…" I release a breath, the mist of it mingling with Rio's. "As for offending me, no, not in person." I've never been one to hold back or beat around the bush. "However, you did a fine job of it in your buddy's office last weekend."
It dawns on him quickly exactly what I'm referring to, and I can see the wheels turning. He's probably going through what I could've heard. His eyes grow wide, his lips part. But before he can even think about speaking, I get all my frustrations out into the open.
"Look, when I saw you at Switch after Mark's brother raised hell in there, I only wanted to thank you," I say. "I was in a shitty place when you and I met the first time, and you helped me set a few things straight. But with the reaction I got…?" I doubt I'll ever forget the glare Rio gave me. "Not only would I be dead if looks could kill, but you stormed out as if your ass caught fire."
"Seeing you there—in a fetish club, Chelsea…" He pinches the bridge of his nose.
"Yeah, I know. Last person you wanted to see in there. I got that."
His eyes flash to mine at that, his gaze intense and merciless. "What I want has very little to do with things. You were only a child. Bloody fuckin' hell, I was afraid you were at Switch for all the wrong reasons. I had no idea BDSM was actually for you, and considering what I told you in New York, you must admit that I didn’t give you a nice introduction."
Yeah, there's no forgetting his words.
"Tell me," I'd demanded over and over. "I wanna know what you do with those who don't respect you." I'd pushed him too far, aggravated him enough, and in the end, he spat out a few sentences that made something inside me snap.
"I put them over my knee." He'd towered over me. "I cane them until they cry with remorse, until they're reduced into a blubbering mess that begs to be fucked into a good little girl again, until my marks burn red."
Most young women would've run away screaming at that, and believe me, part of me did, too. But most don’t have my upbringing. And, truth be told, it wasn’t mainly what he told me that made me look into BDSM. It was the air of dominance and consistency he oozed. There's structure in Rio's entire being, and sixteen-year-old me wanted that so much she couldn’t even describe it.
Regardless of it being for wrong reasons or right, back then I was ready to attach myself to him like a Band-Aid simply because I could tell he was a rock.
I'd lived day-to-day, rarely knew where I'd be spending the next night, had the wrong type of friends, and was under the impression that men were meal tickets and women were holes to fuck.
Enter this guy. Solid, takes no bullshit, and didn’t try to get into my pants. Instead he lectured me. He told me to take care of myself because there's only one of me.
Feeling very much like that lost little girl again, in need of so much structure and comfort, I hug myself and try to fend off the cold as well as the emotions I've suppressed for a long time.
Comfort. Scoff. I've never been able to trust anyone enough to find real comfort in them. The mere thought of letting my guard down that much… No way.
I'm not in the mood to go into all the things that made Rio's effect on me back then so life-altering. I could tell him a short anecdote about my aunt's strict ways that have also played their part in my life, but it seems I can't form the words. Once more, Rio leaves me vulnerable and unsettled, and revealing anything would only make it worse.
"The introduction was enough for me," I settle for. "Now, are you gonna tell me why you're here when you don’t even want me in San Francisco?"
That earns me a quick look of impatience. "Again, it's not about what I want. I was shocked to see you there. But, I do admit I didn’t handle things very well." To his credit, he does appear contrite. However, the damage has already been done. "I am sure there's a story behind your reasons for seeking out this lifestyle—something I may have triggered—and I have a story, too. It explains why I've acted the way I have, and perhaps we can talk—"
"Why the sudden change?" I ask abruptly.
I can't imagine sharing my story one day, especially not the part where I basically stalked his Facebook and found out about Switch that way. Heh, if only everyone knew my crush on him is the reason I sent Kayla to Switch, resulting in her meeting Nicholas.
"I spoke to Dante," he answers, and I nod and stare at my feet. "I found out you're coming to my play party this Saturday, and it made me realize that this is something I can't hide from. You're part of this community now, so I might as well get over my issues and make the best of the situation."
And what exactly are his issues?
What is the situation?
"I apologize, Chelsea," he murmurs, causing me to look up at him. "Listening in on my private conversation with Nick notwithstanding…" Insert a Domly brow cocked. "I'm sorry for what you heard. You didn’t deserve that, and in retrospect, I would have phrased myself differently. Differently enough to change the meaning." Vague, but I guess he's not ready to divulge. "Nick and Mark said they'd be here to watch you sing tonight, and I wanted to see for myself. I also—" He pauses and frowns then mutters a curse and begins unbuttoning his jacket. "I also came to start over, I suppose. I want us to be civil. Here." He moves closer with the intention of wrapping his jacket around me.
I step back, a protest ready to be unleashed.
He doesn’t let me. "Don’t argue with me," he says warningly. "We may not be in the club, but I don't give
a fuck."
I huff, stunned and irritated and stupidly giddy, as he eases the warm jacket over my shoulders and shifts even closer to button it. Button by button. Sigh.
"It's a good thing I'm used to this behavior," I quip.
He hums. "I was curious about that. You were a natural during the demo with Dante and Gretchen. I take it you're fairly experienced?"
"I dove in as soon as I was eighteen," I reply. Not for lack of trying before that, but good Doms evidently don't associate with underage subs. "It's been a life of servitude ever since." I give him a little smirk.
"Is that a fact?" He smiles back, finished with the jacket. "So, what do you say—our first and second encounters could've gone better. Should we go for a third?"
I think I'm still shocked at this turn of events, so my nod is a little slow, and I'm feeling a whole lot dazed. A few seconds later, though, I do find my words. "I'd like that," I say, clearing my throat. "And I'm sorry for acting like a bitch earlier."
"Water under the bridge." He extends a hand. "Rio Kelly."
I can't help but grin as I grasp his gloved hand in a shake. "Chelsea Dunn. I'm looking forward to your party on Saturday, Sir."
Even in the dim glow of the lamp above the door, the darkening of Rio's eyes is unmistakable. "Let's see if you say the same after the auction."
"Auction?" Heat rises to my cheeks, and I wonder if I've missed something. With the theme being Ancient Rome, I obviously figured out it's slaves versus Masters, but what else could there be?
"We're starting off with a slave auction, naturally." Amusement trickles into Rio's voice. "Didn’t Dante tell you?"
I wince internally. "Gretchen sent me an email titled 'party specifics.' I should probably read that." In my defense, I was planning on reading it tomorrow.
"Probably," he deadpans. "You better pray I don’t buy you as one of my house slaves. Don’t think I've forgotten your gesture at me on stage tonight."
Shit, double shit, triple shit.
I called him an ass, didn’t I?
"What happened to water under the bridge?"
He grins. "I choose not to include that little remark."
