by Rebel Carter
This submissive will be under stress tonight and for that reason you would be the perfect company for her to keep. You will, of course, be compensated heavily by Zeus for your presence.
“Of course, of course,” I muttered. I poured myself another whiskey, not even bothering to measure. I must have filled half the glass and picked it back up with a weary sigh. I’d come to the club to relax, to burn off the fire Honey had given me, not play fucking babysitter.
I know you hate games.
Sorry about that.
Connie
PS: Give the girl a chance!
I stared at the exclamation point for a beat. That one slash and a dot at the end of her postscript annoyed the hell out of me. She knew exactly how my mind worked and that I was ticked about this new development. When I’d been the eyes, ears and fists of New York’s mobs and gangs I’d played babysitter plenty of times. A mafia princess trying to assert her independence, a spoiled daughter on her quinceañera, the Bratva’s oldest fuck up son on a bender that needed drying out.
I’d done it all at some point.
The reason for that was because I could be trusted to do a job, any job, keep my cool and keep my mouth shut about it. It had all been for the greater cause of getting my freedom and getting the fuck out of the life. Babysitting had been low stress, even with the biggest of tantrums thrown by my charge, or whatever fuckwits had thought they could make a name for themselves by coming after what was mine. My fingers tightened on the cool glass of my whiskey and I glared at the stupid painting in front of me. A woman half bathed in light, beautiful face half obscured by the dark. She wore a deep green dress that flared out behind her as if caught by a gust of wind, the skirt of it melted into the shadows giving the appearance that she was running. She had to be running, or in motion of some kind with the figure that was behind her. Only an arm was visible against the verdant green of her skirts, the fingers seeking but missing her as she ran forward. I’d been good at my job because I thought of who I was paid to protect as mine. They weren’t just a job, or a payday, they were mine.
No one fucked with what was mine.
Connie knew that. And she was using that knowledge now to her and this VIP’s advantage. She and the almighty pain in my ass Zeus were asking me to think of the submissive as mine for the night. If I took this on, tonight would not be about relaxing or finding release, but about protecting what was mine. My fingers twitched and I swirled the whiskey in my glass around, staring into the amber depths of it.
“You don’t have to do this,” I told myself. I hadn’t taken a job in years. This wouldn't be the same as it had been when I was working to go legitimate. I knew that. But a job was still a job, and that’s what this was. I tossed back half the contents of my whiskey glass and lifted the lid on the platter to see a dish of pasta with red sauce, a steak sat on another plate alongside fresh bread and a side dish of salad, and I hummed in approval. At least I wouldn’t be going hungry if I stayed.
“You can leave,” I said, even as I already knew what I was going to do. I closed my eyes briefly and tossed back the rest of the contents of my glass before I rolled the cart towards the dining room. The familiar adrenaline that had always accompanied a job that I took was already surging through me, the high of it reminding me that even if I had talked myself into accepting boardroom conferences and multi-million dollar deals as substitutes, there was nothing like this.
This reminded me I was alive. The unknown, the thrill of that had my heart thudding in my chest, blood pumping through my veins like a damn freight train. Connie had played her hand right.
I was taking the job.
Whatever Zeus was willing to offer me had better fucking be worth it.
Chapter Fourteen
HONEY
The fruit had been delicious even if I’d stained my jeans by way of an errant pomegranate seed that had fallen between me and the chaise lounge cushion I’d been laying on. It had stained the damn pristine cushion as well. Fuck.
I’d flipped the cushion and made a hasty exit from the balcony, content to pretend that I hadn’t been the culprit even though the suite and every single thing in it was perfectly kept. There really wouldn’t be any hiding that I’d been the one to make a mess, but I figured a pomegranate stain was small potatoes to Connie and Zeus.
“She has to be Zeus,” I whispered even though there was no one else in the room. Until I saw the both of them together, Connie and Zeus, I wasn’t going to think any differently on the matter. It would make sense that Connie was Zeus—she’d been the one to personally tell Christian to fuck off, after all. She wouldn’t like knowing her order had been defied. But her concern went deeper than that, or at least I thought so.
Connie was formidable but I’d seen how she treated club members she had no invested interest in. Impersonal. Detached. Polite? Of course. Civil and professional? Always. But with no more personality than if they were getting checked in for a dentist appointment.
I set the platter down in the sink, rinsing it and drying it, my thoughts wandering. I remembered the heat of Connie’s skin against my hand. The low sound of her chuckle, the way she’d practically had me begging her to touch me.
Connie liked me.
I wouldn’t be in this room if she didn’t.
The almost...the almost, I frowned, walking from the kitchen and into the bedroom. What the fuck had that even been in the hall? The almost seduction? The unspoken offer from Connie to be the one I chose tonight.
I flushed and licked my lips. I hadn’t thought she’d noticed me like that, but now that I knew I couldn't shake the knowledge. It was a heady thing to be wanted by a person like Connie. She was a switch, but her tastes leaned far more towards Dominant. I’d seen her with her ex-lover, an idiot model that had somehow charmed her. But the relationship had been fleeting, coming and going as quickly as an early morning frost. Connie was highly selective in her partners. To be chosen by her was a mark of pride among the submissives and I only knew one or two that had enjoyed the privilege of it. There was no mistaking the fondness in their eyes when the woman entered the room, face impassive until it landed on one of them and she smiled. When Connie smiled it had the power to warm the entire room, the focus of her expression transforming into the personification of joy and desire.
On the nights that Connie smiled at a submissive was the night they became the most sought after partner in the club. Everyone wanted to know what it was that had pulled Connie towards them, everyone wanted a taste of it, even if it was second hand. I was flattered she’d shown interest in me, even if it made me nervous. Even if I knew better than to play around with a woman like that.
Christian is here tonight.
I sucked in a deep breath and held it tight. I counted to ten and then slowly let it out before doing it again. I’d picked up breathing exercises to keep myself calm after Christian had stalked me. The anxiety of those months had grown until nothing it seemed could bring me back down. Nothing really had, not until Connie had interfered and Christian had disappeared altogether.
And now he was here and I was fucking doing breathing exercises like I was practicing for Lamaze.
I let out my last breath and balled my hands into fists by my sides. “I’m not going to let him ruin this for me. You’ll be protected,” I reminded myself. “Connie said so,” I added, hoping it would give me the confidence I needed. The truth was I was shaking like a leaf, even if I had the protection of the club to make sure I was safe tonight. I held out my hand and grimaced, seeing my fingers trembling. It was going to take me seeing Christian for this to wear off. Otherwise I would be jittery and anxious in the lead up to it.
“Find him first thing,” I ordered myself, crossing the room to the closet where I had stored my things. “Rip the bandaid off as fast as you can. And when you see he’s nothing to be scared of, you’ll relax.”
Maybe it was all in my head. Maybe I had made Christian out to be worse than he was, I tried to reason with myself
while I got ready, shaking out the curls I had made earlier and brushing them into something softer. Maybe Christian wouldn’t even take notice of me if he was there with someone else. I couldn’t imagine he would set foot in the club otherwise. He wouldn't risk the embarrassment after the last time. I dressed in the gown I had packed and smiled, feeling it’s silky fabric swishing around my legs as I walked into the bathroom to apply my makeup.
I would go with drama. Tons of drama. Smoky eyes, false eyelashes, thick eyeliner, contouring to accentuate my already high cheekbones. A bold red lip that would say ‘fuck you’ to any and all that glanced my way. Not that I needed to say it to many people, just one in particular. Just one asshole I wished had never been a part of my life.
Maybe tonight will be good. Maybe, maybe, maybe...
I rolled my eyes at my reflection and focused on my makeup. I knew all the maybe’s in the world were really just wishful thinking.
Your boundaries will be enforced.
Christian was here. It was going to be a weird night. Even if he wasn’t allowed to harass me, or touch me.
“Connie said,” I told my reflection moving on to my eyelashes. The words had power in the Cairn, but here in the emptiness of my suite, where I stood alone, barefoot in a dress far too fine for me, and painting my lips crimson for armor, the words sounded painfully weak and paper thin.
What would it really do if Christian set his mind to something? He was obsessive. I knew that. It was one of the reasons I had fallen for him. The drama and intensity of his desire had been intoxicating, and I had grown up with mommy issues. I craved that sense of belonging and care from another person even if I did my hardest to ignore it. Christian had fed those needs until I was his and then he’d changed.
Everything had changed.
I shook my head. “We are not going there. Not now. Not tonight.” I put down my mascara wand with a snap of my hand and snatched up my perfume bottle, spritzing myself and then turned heel and left the bathroom with a slap of my fingers on the light switch. I pulled out the strappy gold heels I’d brought and went about putting them on, forcing my brain to focus on the straps of it, delicately and securely tying them up. When I was done, I gave myself a final once over in the gilded mirror propped up on the wall beside the bed.
The heels added just enough height to me that I became statuesque in the best of ways, the dress’s color accentuated the tan of my skin, my makeup the right blend of drama and simplicity that insisted I belonged anywhere I chose to go, my long dark hair fell in soft waves, spilling over my shoulders and back, a lovely contrast against my dress.
The woman staring back at me was beautiful. She was perfect and serene, or you’d think so, if not for her eyes. If you didn't look at her eyes you’d think she was a goddess returning home. I swallowed hard and looked at myself, looked right into my eyes and saw the fear in them.
Christian is here tonight.
I closed my eyes and took in a shuddering breath. The man still had a hold on me that sent a blast of fear straight through me, nearly rendering me immobile. I hated feeling like this. Hated knowing that a person was responsible for it. I opened my eyes and looked back into my reflection. Yes, I looked perfect and confident, except for my eyes.
“Fuck.”
Was it too late to tell Connie I needed to leave? Could I make a hasty exit, or maybe just not leave my room and-
There was a sharp rap at the door and I let out a yelp, jumping slightly at the noise. I stared at the door in silence, eyes wide and the only thought that came to me was ‘what if it’s him.’
“He doesn't know you’re here,” I insisted, and forced myself to start moving. “He can’t.” I said the words out loud because a long time ago I’d had a therapist teach me that anytime my thoughts got too loud, made me start to panic, that I needed to look at where the fear was really coming from. Was it being told to me by the outside world, or was it coming from me? From my own thoughts? If it was the latter, I had to remind myself the only fear I was responding to was from inside my head. If the only threat were the words I was repeating then the threat wasn’t truly there, was it?
Talking out loud was a way to break the loop of anxiety that had a tendency to spin out of control when I was stressed.
“He doesn't know you’re here,” I said again, forcing myself to say it louder. “It’s not him.” I moved then, crossing the room and making for the door. “He isn’t there. It’s not him,” I said, heart racing. I reached for the door and opened it quickly before I lost my nerve. A cart greeted me, not a person in sight. A nervous giggle escaped my lips. I’d been worried and there wasn’t even a staff member to be seen.
There was nothing on the cart save for a note with Connie’s familiar handwriting on it but I wheeled it into my room all the same. I shut the door and stared down at the letter with big scrawling black lines that simply said Honey.
I reached out and picked up the crisply folded paper. It felt creamy and luxurious beneath my fingers, because of course it was just like everything else in this place—-the very best. I unfolded it and bit my lip, eyes scanning the paper.
Honey, it began, and seeing my name in Connie’s writing helped me relax slightly. She’d taken the time to do this herself.
I know you’re nervous but you have no reason to be. I’ve arranged company for you to enjoy yourself. Tonight will be utterly beautiful. Trust me.
Yours,
Connie
I re-read those last two words. Trust me. She knew I was nervous and she was assuring me that I had no reason to be because she had taken care of it. I wiggled my bottom lip between my teeth, not caring that I was probably ruining the lipstick I had just carefully applied. What did she mean by company, exactly?
PS- There’s champagne in the fridge. I insist you enjoy a glass before tonight.
I smiled seeing the postscript and dropped the letter onto the cart. I walked to the fridge and opened it taking a clearer inventory of what was in it. Earlier I’d grabbed the fruit platter and not paid much attention beside that. But now I saw that there was not just a single bottle of champagne, but there were several, alongside other food that I might want to try. “Is that a chocolate cake?” I whispered, leaning in to see that it was, indeed, a chocolate cake. I was going to eat at least half before I left. No doubt about it. I pulled a bottle of champagne from the fridge and took my time pulling the wrapping free and popping the cork. It made a satisfying popping sound and I dropped the cork onto the counter, snagging a champagne flute from the cabinet. Once I had poured my drink, I took a dainty sip and sighed. It was cool and sweet, bubbly in just the right way that woke up my senses and broke through the panic I’d been spiraling in.
I took another sip and then drained the glass, which I promptly refilled with more bubbly. I didn’t normally drink at all when I came to play, but this was different. My nerves were jangling so loud I could practically feel them trying to burst through my skin. Liquid courage was essential if I was going to make an appearance at all outside of this room.
I wandered back over to the cart, heels clicking lightly on the hardwood and stopped beside it. The paper was laying where I had dropped it and I touched it again, smoothing it out with two fingers.
Yours, Connie
I didn’t miss the yours she had included. Connie had never been overly sentimental with me and this was new. What if it was her that would be keeping me company tonight?
I flushed hot, skin going prickly with all the energy of a live wire. If it was her then tonight was going to be something all right. I took another hasty sip from my drink before I set it down and made a beeline back to the bathroom.
I needed to double check my makeup and get the hell out of my room before I drank the entire bottle and refused to come out. Or worse, actually, I could drink the bottle and show up ready to lay into Christian. I shook my head and carefully fixed my lipstick. I wanted neither of those to happen tonight.
For the second time that night I turned th
e light off and walked towards the suite’s door. The gold key Connie had given me was hanging on a hook beside the door and I took it, looping the leather string it hung on around my wrist for safekeeping. I stared at the polished gold of it, my reflection dully visible in the smooth surface. I could see my outline, the shape of a woman that was, at this angle, unafraid and standing with her shoulders back and head high.
I could be that woman, even if it was a lie.
I lifted my head and reached for the door. I could pull this off and enjoy myself.
“No, you will enjoy yourself,” I corrected myself aloud. I reached for the door and opened it. The hallway was empty when I left and locked my door, which was both a blessing and a curse. I had never spent much time in this wing and I was unsure of which way to go, but I more or less remembered the direction Connie had brought me from and turned left, setting out that way.
I only had to walk for a minute or two before I heard the familiar din of laughter and voices echoing from up ahead. Adrenaline flooded my veins but I kept my gait slow and smooth. I would not panic. I would not fucking do it and give Christian the satisfaction of knowing he still had a hold on me. I exited the hallway and turned to the right, grateful to see that I was now standing in the Great Room which served as the heart of the club. Here there was a wide open space, the room dark like the rest of it.
High above us was a massive chandelier that bathed the room in a wash of golden light. It softened the hard edges of the room and gave it a romantic touch that instantly enticed you into wanting to explore. I stepped up out of the hallway I was in and into the room and walked slowly around the perimeter of it, glancing towards the bar at the left side of the room. There was a series of hallways from the other guest suites and all of them emptied into a longer passageway that circled the Great Room that rose above it. I could see people milling about in the lower corridor, their curious eyes on who had already claimed space within the Great Room. All around the room there were groups of couches and seats for people and couples to enjoy, and at the center of the room was a small raised platform which told me there would be an exhibition of some kind tonight.
