Claiming Fifi

by Tara Crescent

  He takes a deep breath. “I suggested the trip,” he says woodenly.

  “Because she’d been working round-the-clock, and you wanted her to take a break.” I want to shake some sense into Adrian. “You did a nice thing.”

  He resumes stacking the mugs on the shelf. “And she died.”

  “Accidents happen.”

  “This one could have been prevented,” he replies, his jaw tight.

  I heave an inward sigh. We’ve had this conversation so many times, and it never goes anywhere. I don’t even know why I still try.

  Of course you know why. You’re thinking of the future again. One with Fiona in it.

  On Monday, I’m about to leave for lunch when Nita pokes her head in our office. “Patrick Cohen’s in the lobby,” she says. “He’s insisting that he sees one of you.”

  Adrian’s on a conference call with our team in Congo. Which leaves me. Fuck. Patrick Cohen, who’s one of our bigger clients, will spend the next hour gossiping about everything that’s going on in the Hill. The man loves the sound of his own voice.

  So much for that meatball sub. “Sure, I’ll see him.”

  She departs, giving me a sympathetic smile. A couple of minutes later, Cohen walks into my office, an uncharacteristically serious look on his face. “Payne, thanks for fitting me in.”

  I shake his hand. “No problem, Mr. Cohen. What can I do for you?”

  He avoids looking at me. “There’s no easy way of saying this,” he says. “I’m terminating my relationship with Lockhart & Payne.”

  I go still. “You are? May I ask why?”

  He looks torn. Finally, he nods. “This is off the record,” he warns.

  “Of course.”

  “I got a call from a certain senator’s office this morning suggesting that I do my business elsewhere.” He gives me an apologetic look. “We can’t afford to piss him off.”

  Senator Theodore Downing, I’m willing to bet.

  Not only have we refused to bid on the contract in Niger, but I also threatened to beat his only son to a pulp. The senator is choosing to express his displeasure by chasing off our clients.

  “You have teams on the ground in Mexico and Guatemala,” he continues, his expression wary. “As of tomorrow, they’ll need to vacate their premises.” He shakes his head. “I’m sorry, Brody. I really am.”

  I get to my feet. “Thanks for letting me know.”

  Fucking hell. I’ve got to get on the phone with Felicity and figure out how many of our clients will cave if Downing exerts pressure.

  We’ll survive this. If Raymond Downing ever says another word to Fiona, I’ll gladly and cheerfully break his nose. No matter how much business we’ll lose as a result.

  25

  Fiona:

  Avery Welch lifts her head up as I enter her office Tuesday afternoon and surveys me thoughtfully. “You look… different.”

  I can’t believe it’s only been a week since I last saw Avery. So much has happened in these last seven days, and I don’t know where to start. I sit in my usual armchair and look at my therapist. “I went to Club Ménage,” I tell her. “I saw Raymond there.”

  “You did?”

  I nod soberly. “It wasn’t good. I went into shock. Well, not real shock, of course, because I’d be dead.” I fill her in on everything that’s happened. My lunch with Adrian and Brody on Wednesday. The scene in their office on Thursday. Heading to the club on Friday, and then the events of Friday night.

  “Then,” I continue, “In the middle of the night, I finally admitted something I’ve spent the last two years denying. I had been afraid of Raymond. The moment I said those words out loud, I felt free.”

  Avery scribbles something on her notepad. “You’ve made more progress this week than you have in almost two years,” she comments.

  “I really think I have. After that, I spent the rest of the weekend with Adrian and Brody, and I’m having dinner with them tonight.” I bite my lower lip. “You’re going to tell me to take things slow, aren’t you?”

  She looks up. “I wasn’t planning on it,” she replies, sounding surprised. “Fiona, you’re the best judge of how you feel.”

  “You don’t think I’m swinging between extremes? One moment, I’m terrified of being tied up, the next moment, I’m signing up to be a kitten on stage? What’s next, fire play?”

  “What’s fire play?”

  “Not a clue,” I reply. “Someone called Kai Bowen was going to do a demo on Friday night, but I missed it.”

  She’s writing something down, but when I say those words, her pen freezes. “Kai Bowen?” she asks, her voice faint.

  I frown. “I think that’s his name, yes. Why?”

  She resumes writing, but her fingers are noticeably shaky. “It doesn’t matter what I think,” she says, ignoring my last question and focusing on the earlier one. “Do you think you’re swinging between extremes?”

  She changed the topic pretty damn quick. Then again, we’re supposed to be talking about me, not her. “I don’t know if I am. Maybe. That’s not what I’m really worried about.”

  Avery waits for me to continue. I gather my thoughts. “I’m starting to get attached to them,” I say at last. “Brody and Adrian, I mean.”

  “You spent the weekend with them. Isn’t it normal to get attached?”

  I lean forward. “They’re dominants, Avery. The bartender at the club said women were fighting to be their submissive for this demo. A woman even came up to them and volunteered.”

  “So what?”

  “I have so many hang-ups. What if they get bored of me? What if they get annoyed with having to work around my limits?”

  “Hmm.”

  “Avery, stop doing that. I want to know what you think.”

  “You already know the answer, Fiona,” she replies patiently. “You are who you are. You can’t be anyone else. It’s better to be honest and risk losing the person you love than to live a lie.”

  Love? Who said anything about love?

  I’m about to open my mouth and hotly deny that I’m falling in love. Then a random thought strikes me.

  Neither Brody nor Adrian had been surprised to see Raymond Downing at the club.

  But they should have been. If Club Ménage really is as safe as they say it is, someone like Raymond Downing should never have been allowed to join.

  So they’d known.

  Which means Xavier told them.

  My skin goes clammy. They told me Xavier had asked them to mentor me. They’d made it seem like a normal part of joining the club. But what if it wasn’t?

  Oh. My. God. They’ve joked that Xavier’s playing matchmaker. Is that why they’re sleeping with me? Because Xavier asked them to?

  Bile starts to rise in my throat. I really need to talk to Brody and Adrian.

  26

  Adrian:

  I’m walking back from lunch on Tuesday when a bracelet in a shop window catches my attention. It’s a wide platinum cuff, simple and unadorned, and the instant I see it, I can picture it on Fiona’s wrist.

  Nita follows my gaze, and she gives me a sidelong look. “I didn’t know you were seeing someone.”

  I don’t tend to discuss my personal life with my employees. Nita is absolutely trustworthy, of course, and I even consider her a friend, but certain boundaries exist for a reason. “It’s early days.”

  Sandy had a collar. Meant for play, it was a thin gold choker. I don’t know what happened to it. I couldn’t handle the disposal of her belongings; it was too heart-wrenching. Sandy’s sister Diane had taken care of those details. She might have wondered about the piece of jewelry, and she might have had her suspicions about what it signified, but she never asked.

  Fiona’s too gun-shy for a collar, but a bracelet is less intimidating. More discreet. And even though it’s too soon, I like the idea of Fiona wearing something I gave her. Something to signify she’s ours.

  “I’m glad.” Nita grins. “You’re far more agreeable when
you’re in a relationship. Brody too.”

  “That’s a polite way of saying I’m a pain in the ass, Nita.”

  “Your words, not mine,” she says, her eyes dancing with amusement. “I’m going to head back to the office. Don’t forget, you’re meeting with Daniel Snow at two. It was on Brody’s calendar, but he’s busy with Patrick Cohen’s curve-ball, so I moved it to yours.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  I push open the jeweler’s door and walk in. “May I help you find something?” the woman behind the counter asks me.

  “I’d like to see the platinum cuff in the window, please.”

  Her eyes gleam in anticipation of a commission. “Of course.” She pushes open the glass case, reaches for the bracelet and hands it to me. I hold it in my palm, its weight satisfying against my hand. It’s simple in design. The platinum is two inches wide. “It’s hinged,” the clerk says. “And it clasps shut.”

  You’re getting way ahead of yourself, Lockhart.

  We haven’t talked about the future. All Fiona has agreed to do is play with us exclusively until the pet-play demo. Nothing else.

  But I can picture Fiona wearing a bracelet on each wrist and nothing else. Her hair tumbling down her back, her rosy nipples swollen, her clit engorged, her cunt slick with arousal.

  I pull out my wallet. “I’ll take two,” I tell the woman.

  What the hell, Lockhart?

  Fiona’s supposed to come over at seven. After a few hours in the office, and a quick stint in the gym, I get to Brody’s place a little after six.

  He’s looking at his phone. “Felicity just emailed us,” he says. “Twenty percent of our business is at risk. And we’re going to lose nearly five hundred grand getting our teams home.”

  “Ah well.” I shrug philosophically. “Such is life. You don’t have any regrets, do you?”

  “I regret not punching Downing’s face,” he replies, not looking up from chopping tomatoes.

  “Me too.” I open his refrigerator and pull out a beer. “Something struck me this weekend. Fiona doesn’t know we knew Downing was going to be there.”

  He stops what he’s doing and looks up at me. “Fuck,” he swears. “This isn’t good.”

  I know. At the start, protecting Fiona had been an obligation, something I did because of what happened to Lina. But that’s not the case anymore. Not after this weekend.

  For two years, my life has been tinged with darkness, but Fiona’s brightness and laughter are chasing them away, replacing them with something lighter and more hopeful.

  We’d been immensely lucky once to have found a woman that was perfect for us. When she was taken away too soon, I didn’t dare think we’d get another chance at love. “I want this to work.”

  Brody looks up from the cheese he’s grating. “Are you sure?”

  I nod, a smile breaking out on my face. “I think I am.” I take a deep breath. I never thought I’d get to this point. It feels good.

  Brody gives me a direct look. “If we want this to go somewhere, we owe her the truth.”

  “Tonight.”

  Fiona:

  All the way to Brody’s place, I debate whether I’m going to confront them or not. When I arrive at seven with my bottle of wine, I still haven’t decided. Am I ready to hear their answer?

  I lift my hand to knock at the door, but before I can, it swings open. Brody stands in the doorway. “Come on in, Fiona,” he says with a smile, stepping aside to allow me entry. I walk in, my mind barely registering the beautiful space. I’m too nervous.

  His eyes run over me, taking in my blue wrap dress, with its low neckline. “You look lovely.”

  He’s dressed casually in black slacks and a navy-blue t-shirt. Despite the churning in my gut, I smile back at him as I hand him the wine. I can’t help it. “You cooked. It smells great.”

  “I’ve got some steak going on the grill,” he says. “I hope you like fajitas.”

  My stomach chooses that moment to rumble. I go beet-red. Brody chuckles warmly. “Please sit,” he says, pointing to the living room area, where two couches are arranged in an L-shape around a fireplace. He opens a large bag of chips and empties it into a bowl, placing it in front of me.

  “Where’s Adrian?” I ask, sitting down at the corner of one of the couches. Brody takes a seat on the other, giving me plenty of space. Even though my stomach is churning with tension, I still feel a faint stab of disappointment at how far away from me he is.

  “He’ll be a couple of minutes,” Brody replies. “He stepped out to take a call.”

  “Is everything okay?”

  He shrugs. “Work. Your job must intrude into your life as well.” He gets to his feet. “I’m sorry, I’ve been quite rude,” he says apologetically. “Can I get you something to drink?”

  Before I can answer, the door opens, and Adrian walks in. He’s dressed in jeans and a grey t-shirt, and when he sees me, his face breaks out into a smile. “Hey Fiona,” he greets me, collapsing next to me on the couch. “It’s really good to see you.”

  “I was just about to offer Fiona a drink,” Brody cuts in. “Adrian?”

  “Yes please.”

  Brody turns to me. “Fiona, red wine? Something else?”

  “Wine’s perfect. Want to open Xavier’s bottle?” Maybe the alcohol will calm me.

  Brody pours wine into glasses and hands one to me and another to Adrian. As he’s doing that, Adrian turns to me. “There’s something we need to tell you.”

  I take a deep breath. “You knew that Downing would be at the club, didn’t you?”

  He nods, unsurprised. “You figured it out. I thought you might.”

  I take a big sip of the wine. “Did Xavier ask you to sleep with me?” I blurt out.

  “What?” Brody sounds shocked. “No, of course not, Fiona.”

  “But he did ask you to watch over me, didn’t he?” I persist. “Why’d you do it?”

  Adrian exhales. “I told you we were in college together, right?”

  “You said you bonded over late-night drinking,” I reply carefully.

  He shakes his head. “Not quite. We bonded over BDSM.”

  To hide my surprise, I lean forward and grab a handful of chips. “You did?”

  Brody answers. “Yeah. I grew up in a small town in Mississippi. It was, in many ways, a sheltered upbringing. It wasn’t until I got to Boston that I met people who shared my tastes. It was… exhilarating.”

  “It was,” Adrian agrees. “Until things got out of control.” His eyes are sad. “Our friends Lina and Stephan liked to play harder than the rest of us. Stephan, in particular, had a reckless streak in him. The play got wilder. More dangerous.”

  “What happened?” My voice is a whisper.

  “A breath play scene went badly wrong,” Brody says bleakly. “Lina died. When Stephan realized what he’d done, he shot himself.”

  Adrian stares into his wine. “This lifestyle comes with responsibility,” he says. “We shirked it once. We made a vow when we buried Lina. Never again.”

  “What does this have to do with me?”

  The men exchange glances. For a minute or two, neither of them answer. Finally, Brody breaks the quiet. “Earlier this year, Downing killed a prostitute in Thailand,” he says. “But he bribed his way out. Xavier’s using you as bait, hoping your presence in the club will make Downing do something unstable. That’s why he asked us to protect you.”

  Shock and anger swirl through me. Raymond killed someone? He’d been vicious and mercurial when we were together, but things have escalated dangerously. While Xavier should have been open with me from the start, I agree with his fundamental impulse. Raymond Downing needs to be stopped.

  But where does Maria Dumonte fit into this?

  “He hired you to investigate a blackmail attempt,” Adrian says, seeing my frown of confusion. “That’s what you’re wondering about, aren’t you?”

  “Did he make the story up?” If he did, I’m going to have a serious
conversation with Xavier Leforte. One where I point out that he might be richer than God, but that doesn’t give him the right to jerk me around and waste my time.

  “He says he didn’t.” Brody takes a deep breath. “I’m not thrilled with Xavier,” he says. “I’d prefer that you don’t go back to the club as long as Downing’s still a member.”

  “He killed someone.” I look up at them, silently begging them to understand. “It could have been me. I can’t stand by and do nothing.”

  “I thought you’d feel that way.” Adrian sighs. “We’re not going to stop you, Fiona. I already told you. Our dominance is reserved for the bedroom. But,” he adds, “I do have a request.”

  “Of course.”

  “Don’t confront him alone.” He takes a deep breath. “I lost someone I cared about once. I don’t want it to happen again.”

  They care about me?

  “Fiona, I’m not going to lie to you.” Brody’s eyes are uncharacteristically serious. “When we had lunch with you, we did it because Xavier asked us to protect you. But…”

  “But?” I take another sip of my wine—it’s excellent—and stare at them, my heart in my mouth.

  “When I asked you to come over to our office last week,” Adrian says. “I didn’t do it for Xavier. I did it because I was attracted to you.”

  “Me too.” Brody’s blue eyes hold mine. “We should have told you everything this weekend. I’m sorry.”

  Raymond never apologized to me. Not once. He ignored my hard limits so many times, and he never once said he was sorry. I already know that Adrian and Brody are far, far better men than Raymond Downing will ever be, but if I needed evidence of it, I just got it.

  “So I’m still doing the pet-play demo then?” I ask them, trying to keep my tone light.

  “And more, I hope,” Adrian says quietly.

  I’d really like that.

  “Fuck.” Brody jumps to his feet with a curse, darting toward the balcony. “I forgot the meat on the grill.”

  Adrian laughs and gets to his feet as well. “I hope you like your steak well done, Fiona.”