by Aline Hunter
Candice looked at her. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but it’s none of your business.”
“Ouch. Harsh much?”
“Look, I’m sorry.” Candice’s face reflected her apology. “I’m tired and cranky and I’m being a bitch. I’ll call you later, okay? I’m working on a story and it’s kicking my ass.”
“Don’t leave.” Lacey shifted toward the end of the booth. “We don’t have to talk about anything. Just sit down, enjoy your meal and relax.”
“I can’t. I’m sorry, Lace.” Candice’s voice was shaken, her hand trembling as she returned the phone to her pocket. “I’ll call you when things settle down.”
Lacey watched, confused, as Candice shouldered past the waitstaff in her path, walked past the bar and exited the building. Candy would never admit it but something had gotten to her recently. It might be work-related, but somehow Lacey didn’t think so.
She had a decent idea of who her best friend was running from—like a G.I. Joe he came complete with muscles, a gun and a uniform—she just didn’t know why.
* * * * *
“Come in!” Michael yelled as he exited the bathroom upstairs and adjusted the bowtie at his throat. Jacob wasn’t supposed to arrive with the limo for another hour.
Please don’t let it be bad news.
Staying away from Lacey for an entire week had been hell. There was no way he was going to last several hours without her, much less another day.
The doorbell rang again and he rushed down the stairs, careful not to slide on the wood, slip and break his neck. As he approached the door, he knew it wasn’t Jacob. The visitor, who was facing away, was too large and broad. He stifled a groan when the man turned and he saw his face. He’d expected this. From the moment he’d seen the looks exchanged between his friend and Candice Bradshaw, he’d known this was coming. But now was not the fucking time.
“Brady,” he said as he opened the door.
The brick shit house didn’t offer a greeting as he walked past Michael and into the house. He was out of uniform—dressed in a pair of jeans and a skintight navy polo—but Michael was well aware that the cop was armed. More than likely a gun was tucked on Brady’s ankle. Ever since he’d been in a store robbery without his weapon, he never went anywhere without one. Brady turned around in the center of the living room, placed his arms over his chest and set his feet shoulder’s width apart.
“Tell me about her.”
Michael closed the door. “What do you want to know?”
“Everything I can’t get from our records database. She’s not a member of Fantasia but she was there during the Halloween Masquerade. I did some digging and found out you were her host at the event. I want to know why you invited her and why she hasn’t returned.”
“Can I ask why?”
Unfolding his arms, Brady shifted his weight uncomfortably. “We struck up a conversation at the bar and eventually we took it somewhere private.”
Shit. Candice and Brady? It would have been laughable if the man standing before him wasn’t dead serious.
“She approached me about writing a piece on the club, and I agreed to get her in if she kept the intimate details—including names—out of her article. I got her in for a couple of weeks to get a feel for the lifestyle and the people. That’s it.”
Brady’s face fell. “She’s not a Domme?”
“If she is, she didn’t share it with me.” He couldn’t answer that question, even if he wanted to.
Candice Bradshaw exuded a dominant vibe, but so did a lot of people. During the two weekends she’d spent at Fantasia, their personal encounters and chats had been brief. He hadn’t wanted to discuss his personal life and neither had she. He came and visited friends while she mingled at the club as a Domme without a sub. Since she was extremely picky and standoffish, it worked perfectly. He protected his club while she got her story.
“If she’s not a Domme, why was she pretending to be one?”
“She asked to get into the club for an exclusive story. That meant she had to blend in. We both know how it can be for a submissive. It was best, in her case, that she portrayed herself as a dominant.”
“What the fuck?” Brady sent an angry glare in his direction as he put the pieces together. “She was the one who wrote the article on Fantastia in Pleasant View Living, wasn’t she? Why would you expose the club like that?”
“Because the snitch would have gotten in if I hadn’t and possibly revealed names. The deal was she would keep the identities of the members secret and I would help her get a story.”
“So you don’t know anything about her?”
“I knew her when she was just a kid, before she left for college. We didn’t talk much when she returned, aside from saying hello when we crossed paths. I was actually shocked when she approached me about Fantasia.”
“Did you discuss anything when you took her to the club?”
“Afraid not. Since I wasn’t comfortable with the idea of getting her in, and she wasn’t exactly social, we parted ways at the door.”
“Shit.” Brady combed his fingers through his hair. “No wonder she’s been avoiding me.”
“You’ve tried talking to her?”
Brady nodded. “I approached her after you left the apartment but she acted like she didn’t know who in the hell I was, thanked me for my time and closed the door in my face. I managed to get her phone numbers, but I haven’t been able to get in touch with her. She won’t return my messages and she’s not been to her apartment all week. That’s why I decided to come here.”
“So what are you going to do?”
“Blackmail.”
“Excuse me?” Michael asked.
“I’m resorting to blackmail. When she refused to return my calls, I used the only thing I had to get her attention.”
“I’ve got to hear this.”
For the first time, Brady cracked a smile. “She invited me to play in a private room. I found it odd, since most Dommes who don’t know a sub won’t consider doing anything with them in private or without a Dungeon Master. Now I’m thinking she did it so that the encounter would be completely private.”
“How do you plan to use that as blackmail?”
“She chose the first empty room we came to that had a bed and a lock on the door.” Brady’s smile turned to a grin. “The video room.”
Michael returned Brady’s grin despite himself. That’s what you got when you fucked with karma. The video room was used by exhibitionists who were also voyeurs and liked to watch themselves as they played. The moment the lock was engaged, it triggered the camera hidden in the mirror across from the bed. Every single minute of their encounter would have been digitally stored in the computer upstairs.
“She knows you have the video?”
“I texted a screenshot to her earlier today with the message that I’d be at her apartment tomorrow night. She hasn’t responded yet, but I still plan on showing up. She owes me an explanation at the least.”
“Somehow I don’t think she’ll take kindly to you pushing the issue.”
“I didn’t take kindly to being left tied to a bed until a DM came along and found me with my pants down.”
Michael couldn’t help but chuckle at the visual. An enormous man left helpless on a bed by a woman who was lucky to be an inch or two over five feet. “Seriously?”
“I shit you not.”
“I suppose I can’t feel too sorry for her then.”
“I didn’t know anything about her. When she split, there was nothing to go on. I tried frequenting the club but she never showed again. I’d almost given up until I saw her last weekend.” Brady finally seemed to notice the dress slacks, shirt and tie. “Going somewhere?”
Michael tugged at the bowtie, recalling all too well why it was that he never frequented the upper-class restaurants in the city. “To dinner and a private party if things go well.”
“The same newbie I met at Candice’s?”
“She’s Candice
’s best friend.”
“What party are you taking her to?”
“Trevor and Brian are having an informal play party. I figured I’d let her watch. If she’s game for more I’ll set something up at Fantasia.”
“And if she isn’t?”
Michael tried to ignore that heavy weight inside his chest. It was a question he’d asked himself a thousand times as he’d carefully planned out his seduction, searching for the proper way to introduce her to his world and earn her trust. But trust only went so far. The desire to engage in what he wanted and needed had to be something she reciprocated. If not, they’d be living a lie, and eventually it would all fall apart.
Meeting Brady’s expectant gaze, he repeated the same thing he’d told himself in the mirror each time the devil on his shoulder reared its ugly head.
“I’ll have to do the right thing.”
“Which is?”
“The same thing you will if things don’t pan out with Candice.” Michael turned away and started back up the stairs. “I’ll have to let her go.”
Chapter Nine
It felt as if her nerves were shot, her sexual frustration at an all-time high. Michael had arrived in the limo at seven o’clock as promised, dressed to the nines in a spiffy suit, bowtie and shiny dress shoes. His face was cleanly shaven and his hair was neat and pulled back at the nape with a leather tie. He appeared so different from the man who’d bent her over the spanking apparatus in his home, stirring a fire in her blood.
Even worse, his touches were fleeting, his mannerisms those of a man taking a date to dinner for the first time. From time to time his eyes betrayed him, those ice blue irises flaring when turned in her direction. Unfortunately those long, tanned fingers stayed exactly where they belonged and he kept enough space between them that she could feel the heat of his body but was unable to bask in it.
He took her to the posh Le Mer restaurant in Nashville. She was nervous from the moment she exited the vehicle, unable to relax until she took her seat at a table situated in the far end of the room. From her seat she could see everything, although the curved wall surrounding them practically obscured her and Michael from view.
Michael chose the wine and they gave the server their orders. With a curt nod, the waiter walked away and left them alone at the table. She tried to initiate a conversation with the eye candy across from her but the words wouldn’t come out. Whereas Michael was clearly in his zone, looking good enough to eat, she felt uncertain and awkward.
“I was worried you wouldn’t join me tonight,” Michael said, breaking the silence.
The tension at the back of her neck diminished. A safe conversation. Not a bad way to start the evening. “After all the gifts you sent, how could I possibly say no?”
“So that’s what it takes to get on your good side.” His seductive gaze made her insides puddle.
“Bribery never hurts.”
“Are you still angry with me?” He didn’t look away and she knew he was intentionally gazing into her eyes, forcing her to answer honestly. “Have you had enough time to sort things out?”
“I’m not angry.” She told herself to be truthful, even if it was difficult. “I’m just confused.”
“About?”
“The fantastic evening we shared that was destroyed by a former lover who showed up at your doorstep.”
“A former lover who had no business being there in the first place,” he reminded her. “I was just as angry as you were.”
“I somehow doubt that.”
“Why?”
She wanted to tell him because she was the one who’d had to face Aly when he was nowhere in sight. Humiliation took on a whole other meaning when she got a slice of humble pie.
“I felt betrayed.”
“Now we’re getting somewhere.” Placing his elbows on the table, he continued, “Betrayal is an interesting thing, because the emotion can exist even if there isn’t a solid foundation for it. That’s why most marriages fail, you know. The lack of communication and trust creates a roadblock. It’s important to always tell me how you feel, even if it makes you uncomfortable.”
“You can tell I’m uncomfortable?”
“Extremely.”
“I don’t want it to happen again.” Shit. She’d come right out and said it.
“I can’t promise unexpected people won’t show up on my doorstep, but since I removed my spare key I can assure you no one will enter my home again unless we extend an invitation.”
“We?”
“Did you honestly think I’d send you gifts and bring you here if I didn’t intend to have you at my home as often as possible?”
If the chair she was seated in hadn’t been holding her ass in place, she was fairly certain she would have swooned and tottered to the floor. He smiled and reclined in his chair as the server returned with their wine, filled their glasses and left again.
“Tell me about you, Lacey.”
The request was so surreal. He’d seen her posed in the most intimate ways, yet she had only told him bits and pieces about her life. “What do you want to know?”
“Start at the beginning.”
“The beginning?” She laughed and reached for her glass. “I was born, I grew and here I am.”
“What about your parents?”
“What about them?” She took a sip of the wine and rolled the bittersweet liquid in her mouth.
He took her teasing good-naturedly. “How do they feel about their daughter moving miles from home to live in a rural town?”
“They didn’t mind. I was away at college for several years and they’d already retired and started traveling the world. They drop postcards in the mail and call once a week.”
“You went to Berkeley, right?”
She was impressed. Michael had obviously done his homework. “Yes. It’s where I met Candy.”
“It’s hard to imagine you two becoming friends.” When she frowned he explained, “You’re nothing alike.”
She jumped to her friend’s defense, feeling her temper come to life. “Candy isn’t the same woman she was in college.”
“None of us are.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Invisible scars.” Michael’s deadpan statement agitated her. “Easy to spot if you’re looking.”
“What would you know about it?”
“Enough.” He placed his forearm on the table. “I knew Candice when she was just a teenager, before she decided to hold a grudge against the world.”
“That’s not fair.”
“I’m not insulting her, Lacey,” Michael clarified, and she realized he was taking cues from her body language—namely the fisted fingers wrapped around the stem of her glass.
She allowed her fingers to go limp and took a deep breath. “It doesn’t sound that way.”
“Listen,” Michael sat up, his expression no longer matter-of-fact but tender, “I was merely stating a fact. I never would have thought the two of you were friends.”
She attempted steer the conversation to a safe place. “How about you? Did you go to college?”
“I got my associate degree in business before I decided I wanted to work for my father. It didn’t take long for me to figure out I was more comfortable in jeans and grease than I was sitting behind a desk.”
She brought the glass to her lips and asked, “So your father started the company?”
He nodded. “He opened Mike’s Wrecker shortly after I was born. He must have known or hoped I’d take over, since he started the business while I was only in diapers.”
“What about your mom?”
“She was an RN.”
“Was? What does she do now?”
Michael’s eyes darkened, becoming reflective. “She passed away several years ago.”
“I’m sorry.” She returned her glass to the table before he could see her hand shaking.
Open mouth, insert foot.
“It’s okay.” He lifted his glass. “Both of m
y parents are deceased, actually. I’ve had time to come to grips with it.”
“Both of them?”
“My mother had an aneurysm. It was unexpected and devastating. My father had a difficult time letting her go, so he started drinking. One night he had one too many and he lost control of his car. He crashed down a ravine not far from home and died on impact.”
“Oh God, Michael.” She ached to reach over the unbearable distance created by the table and smooth the lines around his mouth.
“They always said they couldn’t exist without each other. I learned the hard way that they weren’t lying.” He shrugged and put down his drink. “It was a long time ago.”
“Is that what you want?” Her heart lodged in her throat and she wanted to slap herself as the question flew from her mouth. She felt the telling heat of embarrassment staining her cheeks as a loud roar engulfed her ears. He was talking about his dead parents and she wasn’t filtering anything she said. “To find a commitment like that, I mean.” She rushed to clarify. “Not dying after the loss of another person.”
“My parents were the ultimate example of what I wanted for myself. I’ve never seen two people more devoted to each other. Even as they got older, they behaved like teenagers, sneaking kisses when they thought I wouldn’t see or rushing upstairs for time alone when I was visiting. If I didn’t know any better I’d say that each time I drove over for Sunday dinner they used it as an excuse to turn back the clock and pretend they were newlyweds who had to sneak moments together since they had a rambunctious toddler underfoot.”
Unsure of how to respond, Lacey was grateful when the server arrived with the entrees. She was too wired to eat, so after forcing a few bites down she shuffled the food around her plate. When she glanced across the table, she noticed Michael was doing the same. The silenced stretched, becoming miserable, until he placed his fork on his plate and gave her his undivided attention.
“My parents taught me a lot about who and what I am. My father was a Dom and my mother was a submissive.” When her eyes went wide and her lips parted in shock, he laughed. “I suppose that’s where it comes from. I wasn’t fully aware of their kink until I was a teenager and started to notice certain things and decided to break into what I was always told was my parents’ private office.”
