Brody and I enter her private office. The desk is covered with files. “I was supposed to catch up on paperwork yesterday,” she says, catching my gaze. “Unfortunately, I didn’t get through as much of it as I would have liked.”
“I didn’t realize you were a private investigator,” Brody says.
Her chin lifts. “Why? Because I used to be submissive? I’m very good at what I do.”
Used to be? I guess Xavier was right. She’s vanilla now. What a shame.
Brody cocks his head to one side and surveys her. “I wasn’t implying you weren’t,” he says mildly. “Why would you think I was?”
She flushes. I feel my temper rise as the implications of her defensiveness become clear. Of course Downing would have questioned her competence and made her feel insecure. Weak dominants always do.
Fiona doesn’t answer Brody’s question. The silence stretches out, and I wait, willing her to crack before either of us do. A good dominant is, above all, patient.
Sure enough, she breaks the quiet. “Are you members of Club M?” she blurts out. “Did Xavier Leforte send you here?”
A smile creases Brody’s lips. “Technically, we’re silent partners.”
Oh right. I’d almost forgotten. It was seven years ago, after all. Xavier’s family had taken an extremely dim view of his desire to start a sex club and had threatened to cut him off. By then, Brody and I had left the CIA and founded Lockhart & Payne, so we’d given Xavier a start-up loan. We hadn’t been the only ones. If I remember right, Kai had chipped in too, as had Nolan and Hunter.
“Very silent,” I quip. “Yeah, we’re members. Xavier mentioned you were joining the club, and he asked us to mentor you.”
“Mentor me?” Her voice is nervous. “What does that mean?”
Brody grins wickedly. “It can mean whatever you’d like it to, Fiona.”
Her breathing catches. I frown at my friend, wondering what the hell he’s doing. Fiona’s already skittish, and there’s no reason to make matters worse. “Don’t listen to Brody,” I advise her. “He thinks he’s funny. We’ll just show you around the premises, tell you the rules of the various sections, that kind of thing.”
“I am funny,” Brody protests, looking wounded.
Fiona laughs out loud and then claps her hand over her mouth. “Sorry,” she mutters sheepishly.
She looks like a different person when she laughs. Her eyes sparkle, and she seems to come alive. I only met her three times, but I don’t think she smiled or laughed once when she was Downing’s submissive.
I want to see her in the club. Will she be eager, or will she be coy? Will she embrace her desires, or will she fight them?
I told Brody at lunch yesterday that I wasn’t ready to go back to the club again. But the direction my thoughts are going…
“We’re driving down Friday evening,” I tell her. “Need a ride?”
She bites her lower lip. “Umm, are you sure? I don’t want your submissive to get the wrong idea.”
We both give her identical, startled looks. “Sandy?” Brody says at last, sounding strained. “Fiona, she died in a skiing accident two years ago.”
Fiona:
I am such an idiot.
I take a deep breath and strive for composure.
I’m all topsy-turvy.
Seeing Adrian and Brody in my office, after the very erotic dream I had about them last night? Awkward.
Learning they’ve been asked by Xavier to show me around a sex club? More awkward.
Finding out their submissive died? Terrible. “I didn’t know,” I stammer, feeling the color rise on my cheeks. “I’m so sorry.”
Adrian smiles slightly. “How could you know?” he asks reasonably. “You didn’t know Sandy.”
Two years ago. That would have been around the same time I was ending things with Raymond.
I’d envied their submissive. She had two perfect doms who adored her, and I’d made a failure of my only BDSM experience.
If they were single, I’d totally make a pass at them.
Last night, I said that to Avery. Now they’re here in my office, and I’m not so flippant. My insides clench at the thought of doing something so brave, so brazen as to make a pass at the two dominants.
You’re going to the club, and they’ve offered to be your mentors.
Could I ask Brody and Adrian to be more? I want to. Even when I thought I was in love with Raymond, Adrian and Brody had been hard to ignore. They were tall, ripped, and good-looking. More than that, they had an air of effortless command about them. Raymond barked orders, hoping he would be obeyed. Adrian and Brody didn’t need to raise their voices.
Then again, Sandy had probably been a perfect submissive, able to read her dominants’ every mood. I, on the other hand, have demonstrated that I’m too stubborn and too independent to be a good submissive. Untrainable, Raymond used to call me.
Adrian and Brody probably have their pick of every submissive in the club. Even if I could summon up the courage to ask them out, why on Earth would they want me?
Then Brody speaks up. “It’s almost lunch,” he says, “and I’m starving. Would you like to join us, Fiona?”
7
Brody:
Smart women turn me on. When a clever, intelligent, independent woman submits to me, it’s such a head-rush, because her submission isn’t easily won. It means something.
Two years ago, when I looked at Fiona, all I had seen was a woman in over her head. Raymond Downing had a history of abusing his submissives, and when we’d seen her with him, we’d been determined to protect her.
Then Sandy had died in that freak accident in Vermont, and our world had ended. For months after, we were like zombies, barely surviving. We withdrew from everything and went into mourning.
Two years is a long time. We’re different people now. And I’m very aware that I’m attracted to Fiona.
Yesterday, Xavier told us she wasn’t in the lifestyle anymore, and he might be right about that. But I have an instinct about these things. Fiona is still interested. Her breathing had quickened when we talked about the club. Her legs had parted, so slightly that she probably didn’t even notice.
But it’s my job to notice these things.
Fiona Clarke is a submissive. She had a shitty introduction to the lifestyle, but it hasn’t completely quenched her thirst. Like a moth to the flames, she can’t stay away.
The real question is, am I going to do anything about it?
It’s not quite noon. Early for lunch, though the Italian bistro we head to is busy. Most people have opted to sit on the sunny patio.
Adrian and I are regulars here. The hostess gives us a smile of recognition. “Table for three, Mr. Payne?” she asks. “Would you like to eat outside?”
I shake my head. “Could you seat us in the back room please, Savanna?”
“Sure thing, Mr. Payne.” She leads us to the secluded space in the back. As I hoped, it’s deserted. While I thank her, Adrian pulls out a chair for Fiona, who looks startled by the gesture.
A waitress appears with menus. “Anything to drink?”
“Just water for me.” Restless anticipation runs through my veins. “Fiona?”
Once again, an expression of surprise crosses her face. I’m assuming Downing wasn’t interested in soliciting her opinion. “Could I get a glass of your house white, please?”
The waitress disappears to fill our order. I set my phone on the table, shooting Fiona an apologetic look. “Sorry about this,” I tell her. “My team is all over the world, and when they need to reach one of us, it’s usually an emergency.”
“It sounds exciting,” she remarks.
“It can be.” The company that Adrian and I have built is small but extremely profitable. More importantly, I love what I do. I wouldn’t trade what I do for anything. “Catch us up on your life, Fiona. You’re not still with Downing, are you?” Xavier’s already told me she left him, but I want to hear it from her lips.
“No,” she says at once. She gives us a sheepish look. “You warned me about him when we met, and you were right. I should have listened.”
“Some lessons we need to learn for ourselves,” Adrian murmurs. “So you’re ready to explore again? Check out the offerings at Club Ménage?”
“Did Xavier Leforte tell you that?” she asks, her eyebrow arching. “He’s far chattier than I would have guessed.”
I grin at her tone. “We go back a long way,” I explain. “We were in college at the same time. I’ve watched him puke his guts out more than once. It creates a bond.”
The real bond was created when Lina died, but it’s a lovely summer day that doesn’t need to be marred by the shadows of the past.
Her lips twitch. “I can understand.” The waitress brings our drinks to the table, and we order. I watch her covertly as she scans the menu, chewing on her lower lip, running her eyes down the specials before deciding on the penne all'arrabbiata.
I order lasagna, and Adrian chooses the chicken marsala. The waitress writes down our choices. Once she leaves, I turn back to Fiona. “Forget the club for a minute. Catch us up on your life.”
The woman we met two years ago would have let us fuck her because her master ordered it. She’s clearly not that woman anymore. Who is Fiona Clarke now?
Why do you care, Payne?
She takes a big sip of her wine. “What do you want to know?”
“Have you been a private investigator long?”
“Seven years,” she replies. “I used to work for a firm in DC, but I struck out on my own two years ago. Business is steady, and hopefully,” she adds ruefully, “It’ll stay steady with you guys in the building.”
“Us?” I frown in confusion. “We specialize in private security, Fiona. We’re not competition.”
She exhales. “Thank you,” she says, sounding relieved. “That takes a weight off my shoulders. I know what Lockhart & Payne does, of course, but if you were thinking of broadening your portfolio…”
“My team would rebel if I had them follow unfaithful husbands around,” I tell her. “I’m assuming that’s the bulk of your client load?”
She nods. “I like it though. It’s satisfying. I’m fixing one broken relationship at a time.”
“Fixing?”
She takes another gulp of her wine before she replies. “Sometimes,” she says quietly, “the best way to fix a broken relationship is to leave.”
“I agree.” The waitress shows up with our food and asks us if we want anything else. I give Fiona a questioning look. “Another glass of wine?”
“I probably shouldn’t. Doing paperwork is bad enough, but I’m sure it’ll be worse if I’m buzzed.”
“In that case, she’ll have a glass of water,” I tell the waitress. I turn back to Fiona. “What about your personal life?”
She flushes. “What about it?”
“You’re not wearing a wedding ring,” Adrian says. “Are you seeing someone?”
Is Adrian interested in Fiona too? Yesterday, he’d shut me down when I talked about finding another submissive, but today, he seems more open to the prospect.
“No,” she says, not looking at either of us. “It hasn’t been a priority.”
“Because of Raymond Downing?” Adrian asks softly.
She flinches for a split-second before she recovers her composure. “Of course not. I started a new business two years ago. That doesn’t leave much time for anything else.”
That’s not the entire truth. Her hand shakes as she reaches for her glass of water. Fucking Downing. I don’t need to be a psychologist to put the pieces together.
She left the lifestyle, and she hasn’t been in a relationship since Downing.
I’m interested in Fiona Clarke, but I should walk away. She’s damaged. Everyone has hard limits, and a terrified submissive is one of mine. It hits a little too close to home.
Adrian, who knows perfectly well what my triggers are, gives me a sidelong glance. I’m debating what to do when Fiona gives us a tentative look. “If you’re going to be my mentors,” she says, “Can I ask you some questions?”
My partner waits for me to respond. I nod. I’m still not sure how I feel about the entire situation, but something keeps me where I am. “Sure. What do you want to know?”
“What’s the club like?”
“Luxurious.”
My answer isn’t the reply she’s looking for. She bites her lip. “Are there a lot of unaccompanied women there?”
I give her a searching look. “Unaccompanied submissives, you mean?”
She takes a fortifying sip of her water before she answers. “I guess. For the first couple of weeks, I don’t want to participate in anything, just observe. Is that going to be a problem?”
She’s so expressive. Her questions might be carefully neutral, but her body gives her away. Her fingers are worrying at her napkin, and her food is untouched. Fiona Clarke is nervous as hell about going to Club M.
The dominants are going to be fighting over her like a rabid pack of dogs.
“You’ll attract attention,” I say frankly. “But you’ll be safe. There are cameras all over the club. Monitors everywhere. Xavier runs a pretty tight ship. And of course, we’ll be around too.”
She flushes. “I’m sure you have better things to do with your time than to babysit me,” she mutters, pushing her pasta around on her plate.
Not really.
“What are you hoping to get out of the club?” I know that the real reason she’s there is because Xavier has hired her to investigate the blackmail attempt, but a part of me hopes she’d like to do more. “Are you looking for a play partner? Or a dominant?”
She shivers. “I’m not looking for anything serious. Like I said, I don’t have time for a relationship.”
We’re tiptoeing around the core issue. Enough. “And, after Raymond, you’re afraid of BDSM,” I say bluntly.
She lifts her head up and stares at me. “I only dated Raymond for three months.”
“So you’re not afraid?” Adrian interjects. “You’re comfortable finding another dominant to play with casually?”
“Of course.” She reaches for her wine glass, realizes it’s empty and takes a sip of water instead.
Bullshit. She’s terrified, but she’s so fucking stubborn that she won’t admit it.
I lean forward, wanting to ease her fear. I want to wrap my hands around Downing’s neck and squeeze. I hate dominants who use BDSM to bully and terrorize their submissives. “Submission is a negotiation, Fiona. It isn’t about the dominant unilaterally dictating his will on his submissive.”
“I know that.” Her voice is barely audible.
Does she?
Fuck Xavier. This woman is too wounded to be walking around the club floor. Every single thing there is going to freak her out. And when she sees Downing again, she’s not going to react well. “Fiona, I don’t think Club M is right for you,” I say gently. “You’re not ready.”
Her jaw tightens. “I disagree. I’ll be fine.”
“Prove it.” Adrian’s voice is low and tight. “Show up at our office tomorrow night at eight. Scene with us.”
What the hell?
Her luminous blue eyes rest on us. My pulse speeds up. “If I do, you’ll get off my case about Raymond? You’ll show me around the club and keep me away from the creeps?”
I’m about to reply when my phone rings. I look down at the screen and every muscle in my body tenses.
The call isn’t from a member of our team. It’s from my mother.
I haven’t talked to her for more than five years. For her to be calling now can only mean one thing. My father has molested yet another underage girl, and my mother’s calling to complain about the sixteen-year-olds that just want to ruin her husband’s career.
You can run from the past, but you can never fully hide.
8
Fiona:
Show up at our office tomorrow night at eight. Scene with us.
<
br /> The words hang in the air. Adrian’s implication is clear. He doesn’t think I can do it. All of them—Avery, Brody, Adrian, even Xavier—have been implying that I can’t do this. That Raymond Downing made me afraid of BDSM.
That’s bullshit. I’m not walking around with unresolved issues. I’m not. Really. There’s a perfectly logical reason why I’ve stayed away from dominants. As I told Avery last night, I’m just being careful.
You also told Avery you could trust Adrian and Brody.
I eat a forkful of the spicy penne while I consider the offer. Could I let them tie me up, control me, dominate me? I reach for my glass of water, silently wishing it was wine instead, and take a sip of the ice-cold liquid. My face feels flushed, and my body is heated, my insides tightening with long-suppressed desire.
If I don’t do it, Adrian will call Xavier Leforte and tell him that I’m not in any shape to visit Club M.
Will Xavier listen? I think he will. My prior experience with BDSM makes me useful, but I’m hardly irreplaceable. Private investigators are a dime a dozen.
Losing the hundred grand won’t be catastrophic. Adrian told me that they have no intention of competing with me. While Xavier Leforte’s money would be nice, I don’t technically need it.
But… They think I’m weak. They think Raymond Downing broke me. This is my chance to prove them wrong.
I’m going to do it.
Adrian is watching me, and I get the sense that he knows exactly what I’m going to say. Then Brody flips his phone toward Adrian, and the dark-haired man reads the message on the screen and grimaces. “How long has it been since you heard from her?”
“Five years,” Brody says tersely. “Not long enough.” He rises to his feet. “Fiona, I’m sorry. Will you excuse me? I need to return a call.”
“Go.” Adrian’s eyes are troubled as he waves Brody away. “I’ll take care of things here.”
We’re done with our meal. I watch Brody walk away, his shoulders tense. What’s going on with Brody? Who is the mystery woman who hasn’t contacted him for five years? A former submissive?
Claiming Fifi Page 4
