San Francisco: The Complete Trilogy

by Lila Dubois

  There was a small landing on the third floor, with three doors off of it. The first was a glass door that led out onto a ten-by-ten rooftop garden. He opened the door across from that one, ushering her in.

  The far wall of the room had nearly floor-to-ceiling windows. The outdoor garden was on the interior side of the building, but this room looked out onto the street below, and had a rather impressive view of the city. A small wedge of ocean was just barely visible. The lights of the city spilled in, casting a pretty, multi-colored glow over the floor.

  The door closed and Dino turned on the lights.

  It was a dungeon.

  The walls were painted dark blue, and the floor was hardwood so dark it was almost black. The lighting was elegant, a series of directional spotlights that illuminated a St. Andrew’s Cross, spanking bench, and what looked like a medical exam table.

  Chains hung from one wall, beside a set of artistically displayed implements, most of which she recognized. She knew more now about BDSM than she had when she left James, having spent the weeks between then and now researching and reading everything from blogs to instructional manuals to fiction. There was a paddle, flogger, long whip, something that might have been a tawse, and a three-foot cane.

  “What do you think?” Dino asked.

  Christiana curled her fingers into her palms so he wouldn’t see them shaking. “It’s very nice. But the window…” There was a building across the street that would have a rather scandalous view of this kink-focused space.

  “It’s cool, right? State of the art. Specially treated so it’s either opaque or transparent. All I do is flip a switch.” He stood in front of her, not touching her, but close enough that all he had to do was reach out a hand. “Sometimes as punishment, my slaves stand naked in front of the window. Of course, that doesn’t work if they’re exhibitionists. Are you?”

  Christiana had a vivid flashback of standing on that stage, naked and on display for no other reason than James wanted her there.

  “I’m… not really sure,” she said.

  “We’ll find out.” Dino’s face had taken on that hard look once more. “I told you once, slaves aren’t allowed to wear shoes in my house.”

  Just turn around and walk out. Leave. Now.

  She had to try, had to give this a chance. It was either that or spend her life pining for James.

  Christiana slipped off her flats, then bent to pick them up, sliding them into her large, messenger-style purse. She held the bag, hesitating.

  Dino reached out and took it from her, hanging it on a hook on the back of the door.

  “Jacket,” he demanded.

  Christiana squeezed her eyes closed, then took off her jacket, handing it to the stranger she was about to submit to.

  He found Lillian on the first floor of the manor, talking to one of the servers in what James thought might have been Thai. Lillian herself was Indian, and the manager of the Orchid Club, though she referred to herself as the “owner’s assistant.” James had no idea who the owner was and didn’t particularly care, though there were plenty of rumors that went around, his favorite of which was that the owner was a member of Spain’s royal family who had set up the club as a way of indulging himself safely.

  In practice, Lillian was the face of the organization. When James had signed his membership papers at a solicitor’s office in London, Lillian had been there to witness it and then welcome him before providing him with the secure, encrypted e-mail the club used to communicate with members and talk him through what to expect at his first event.

  He hadn’t interacted with her much since then, as he had yet to host one of the gatherings. Each member was expected to host, though in practice there were a few members who enjoyed doing so and ended up hosting every year, sometimes twice a year. If he had hosted, he would know Lillian much better, as she took care of all the details of the event, helping the hosts execute their vision and providing the on-site staff, who were often the same people event after event.

  As he approached, she glanced once at his face and then dismissed the young woman she was speaking to.

  Lillian wore a strapless gold gown and a multi-strand gold necklace. She looked regal and calm, her hair woven into a crown of braids on top of her head.

  “Mr. Nolen, how may I help you?” she asked in a lovely accent.

  He looked around. There was no one near. “I want to ask you about one of the members.”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Nolen, but as you know, we take our members’ privacy very seriously.”

  “I know that, but I think… I think something has happened to her. We were supposed to meet.”

  “Again, as you know, we don’t require members to RSVP, as plans change, and again, it’s a matter of—”

  “Privacy,” James finished for her. He reached into his pockets, then held out his hands. He uncurled his fingers, revealing the two collars, one functional, one beautiful.

  Lillian’s mouth rounded into an “O” shape. “They’re… they’re exquisite.”

  “I had them custom-made for her.”

  “You were planning to collar her permanently and she never arrived?” Now Lillian looked concerned.

  “Not permanently. Not yet,” he amended.

  “You have custom collars made to use for a single gathering?”

  James raised his chin. “Yes, I did.”

  Lillian’s professional air shifted, and she seemed more human and approachable. “You must really love her.”

  No. He didn’t love her. He barely knew her. James didn’t say that, as Lillian thinking he loved her might help his case.

  “I’m very sorry, but still I can’t reveal information about a member.”

  James bit down on a curse, shoving the collars back into his pocket. His stomach was knotted and he couldn’t shake this feeling that Christiana needed him. Right now.

  “Then can you… can you check on her?” he asked desperately. “You don’t have to tell me what you find. I just need to know she’s okay. Do an internet search, make sure she wasn’t hurt or in an accident, or—”

  Lillian held up her hands. “That I can do.” She turned away, and he followed her. She stopped. “Mr. Nolen, I’m going to a non-guest area.”

  “I’m coming with you.”

  “Mr. Nolen.”

  James stepped into her personal space, lowering his voice. “I’m coming with you.”

  Lillian lowered her gaze, and a little shiver worked its way down her spine. The rumors were true—she wasn’t just the owner’s assistant, she was also a submissive. It would be terrible of him to use that information to get what he wanted, but James found that he was willing to do terrible things for the sake of Christiana.

  Luckily, he wasn’t forced to push the issue any further. Lillian nodded stiffly. “Very well, Mr. Nolen, but please understand that this is not something I would do except under the most extreme circumstances.”

  “I do understand, Lillian, and I won’t tell anyone.”

  He followed her down a hall and through a set of pocket doors. The room beyond looked like the interior of a well-organized garage. There were neatly labeled boxes stacked four high and five across, a folding table set up with a printer and laptop, and a rolling garment rack bearing a few dozen empty hangers and two lone garments, which he recognized as the uniform the servers and bartenders were wearing at this event.

  Lillian went to the table, perching on a folding chair, and bent, using the built-in retinal scanner to unlock the machine. “Which member?” she asked.

  “Christiana,” he said.

  Lillian frowned. “Christiana? Perhaps you mean Christine?”

  “No, Christiana. Ana.” He emphasized the end.

  Lillian looked up. “Mr. Nolen, we don’t have any members with that name.”

  The simple black T-shirt dress she was wearing was flattering, but modest, with a polo-style collar. It was an easy style—easy to wear, easy to go unnoticed.

  She hadn’t let her
self think too much about why she chose such a boring outfit for the munch, when on the third night with James she’d chosen, purchased, and worn an outfit designed to make her stand out, to be noticed.

  You have to stop thinking about him.

  “Good job, slave.”

  She winced a little at the term. “Why do you call me that?”

  Dino was standing beside her, so she didn’t see his arm move. He slapped her ass hard enough to make it sting even through her dress and panties. She yelped and jumped away.

  “Back where you were!” he roared.

  Christiana flinched and stepped back to where she’d been standing a moment ago. Her heart was back to thudding in her chest, but she forced herself to calm down.

  She was okay, this was okay.

  Maybe if she repeated it enough, she’d start to believe it.

  This time she was watching Dino out of the corner of her eye and was able to brace herself as he raised his hand. This blow was harder than the last, and she staggered forward a step before catching herself. That had hurt. She swallowed and stepped back, waiting for the pain to change, to become that sweet heat that was neither pain nor arousal, but a wild combination of both.

  It didn’t happen.

  Maybe that was because this hadn’t been a proper spanking—she wasn’t lying over his lap. Maybe this was a real punishment, and that made it feel different.

  James punished you with the hairbrush, and you liked it.

  “Your past masters were probably lenient. What did they call you, their sub? Their pet?” Dino circled her as he spoke. “I expect more, but I’ll give you more. I can give you something no one else can. I can make you feel things that will rock your world.”

  Rock her world? Seriously?

  Christiana kept her expression neutral, falling back into that strange detached state she’d been drifting in and out of since leaving the munch.

  “But there’s a price,” Dino continued. “And that is total and complete obedience. Can you do that?” He grabbed the sides of her head, thumbs on her face. His hands were covering her ears, nearly muffling his next words. “Can you do that, Christina? Can you obey me?”

  “I… hope so,” she said honestly. And it was the truth. She hoped she could submit to him the way she had to James. Hoped that she could find what she’d had with James with someone else.

  He grunted. “And I hope you’re worthy of being my slave. I’ve been disappointed in the past.” He crossed his arms. “Take off your dress.”

  Her heart thumped inside her chest, and the numbing sense of detachment retreated. “Now?”

  Dino raised his hand and slapped her cheek. It wasn’t a hard blow like he’d given her ass, but it startled her. “You will address me as Master Dino.”

  Christiana ground her teeth. Instead of feeling submissive, she wanted to slap him back. She closed her eyes, fighting down her feelings, but she wasn’t wholly successful. “I won’t call you Master until you are my Master,” she snapped.

  Dino blinked then, to her shock, smiled. “Ah, something to look forward to.” He leaned close to her. “I bet I can have you calling me Master before the night is up. Now, take off your dress.”

  Christiana’s anger sputtered out and died.

  Was she really going to do this? Was she going to undress for this stranger? Leave herself vulnerable?

  She’d let James put his hands on her even though they’d been strangers. This wasn’t any different than that second night with James.

  She wouldn’t know, would never know, if she could find what she’d had with James with someone else if she didn’t try.

  She reached for the hem of her dress, then hesitated. “Safe word. My safe word is ‘engineer’.”

  Dino smiled, and it was unexpectedly tender. “I’m not going to do anything that will make you want to use it.”

  Christiana ignored her trepidation and reached for the hem of her dress, pulling it up and off.

  Chapter 2

  “What do you mean?” James demanded.

  “I mean none of our female members are named Christiana.”

  James shook his head. “She’s new. San Francisco was her first event.”

  Lillian’s face took on an ashen hue and she swallowed visibly. “There… there weren’t any new members at the San Francisco gathering.”

  James’s blood ran cold. “What?”

  Lillian jumped to her feet. “You’re sure there was a woman there named Christiana, and she said it was her first event?”

  “Yes. Yes.” James shoved his hands in his pockets as he made fists. “Perhaps you forgot about her.”

  “I don’t forget, Mr. Nolen. Perhaps she lied about it being her first event.” Lillian looked like she might be sick.

  “I’d never seen her before,” he replied softly. “There were other people who saw her, mentioned her being new.”

  “She isn’t… isn’t a member.” Lillian whispered something in a language James didn’t know. “The security there was difficult, the location…she must have snuck in.”

  “No, no, it’s not possible.” James shook his head. “She came in the chauffeured cars, she was dressed for the theme.”

  Lillian’s fingers knotted together at her waist. “The e-mail, she must have hacked our e-mail servers to get details. Who was she? A reporter? A spy. No. no no no.”

  “Stop,” James commanded. His mind was racing. “She wasn’t a spy. She didn’t pay attention to anything but…”

  “But you?” Lillian’s eyes widened. “Mr. Nolen, I have to urge you to check your accounts; speak with your business manager or attorney. Do you have any enemies?”

  “She wasn’t a spy or there to attack me. I’m the one who approached her.” He thought back, going over every moment of their interaction. So many little things made sense now—the way she’d hesitated when talking about herself, her seeming ignorance of the rules…

  And why she’d acted like it was a final goodbye when he’d left her. Because it had been.

  “She didn’t hack the e-mail,” he said. “If she had, she would have had information about tonight. She would be here.”

  Lillian turned back to her laptop. “You have my deepest apologies. I’ll begin the erasure protocol. We’ll… we’ll shut down the society.”

  “No, not yet.” James could barely think. There were too many thoughts whipping through his mind. “I’m going to San Francisco. I’m going to find her.”

  “You’re welcome to do that, Mr. Nolen, though I’d like to remind you that you are subject to prosecution if you break any of the laws of the United States while you are there.”

  “I’m not going to hurt her. I’m going to find her.”

  Lillian blinked. “I’m sorry?”

  His feelings were a tangled mess, but the one he was focused on was fear, not for his business, his privacy, or even the Orchid Club, but for her.

  “I don’t think she was a spy, or corporate espionage agent,” he told Lillian. “I’m not sure how she got there, but I don’t think she means us any harm.”

  Lillian shook her head. “The risk to our members is too great. We have to end the society.”

  “Don’t be hasty. If she was a reporter, wouldn’t the story be out by now? It’s been a month.”

  “She might be gathering information.” Lillian looked at him carefully. “Mr. Nolen, if I may… I know you love her, but she is probably very dangerous.” She swallowed again. “I will have to inform the owner, and he will take steps to make sure she cannot use her knowledge to hurt any of our members.”

  James shot the woman a dark look. “Don’t touch her.”

  “I, personally, will not.”

  Damn it all to hell, now he was even more worried than he had been before, because now he was going to have to race whatever fixer Lillian called and make sure he found Christiana first.

  “I’m going after her,” James said. “She’s not what you think.”

  “Then who is she?” />
  “I’m going to find out.”

  Lillian looked around, at the stacked boxes and wardrobe rack. “Given that a month has passed, I can give you twelve hours, Mr. Nolen, as long as you promise to tell me what you find. Who you find.”

  “Twenty-four,” he countered.

  She nodded once. “Good luck, Mr. Nolen.”

  James turned on his heel and walked out of the small staging room. By the time he reached the front doors of the chateau, he was running. He jumped into one of the waiting cars and yanked his phone from his pocket, calling his London-based personal assistant. “I need a jet.”

  Despite the hour, Mohammed’s voice was crisp. “Where to, Sir?”

  “San Francisco.”

  Wearing a full-coverage black T-shirt bra and bikini panties—which covered more than her two-piece swimsuit—Christiana felt more exposed and vulnerable now than she ever had when she’d been naked with James.

  Maybe that wasn’t precisely true. James had done things to her that made her feel incredibly vulnerable, but with him that vulnerability had been part of the arousal.

  She didn’t feel that now.

  “Next time, you won’t wear panties,” Dino ordered.

  Christiana’s shoulders straightened. “We haven’t negotiated our scene yet. There won’t be a next time, or a ‘this’ time, without that.”

  Dino snorted. “Trying to top from the bottom? I thought you were better than that.”

  “Trying to protect myself. If you can’t see that, then I need to leave.”

  “Don’t threaten me, slave.”

  As hard as his words were, she strangely wasn’t scared. Perhaps she should have been, but what she felt more than anything was anger. He was going too fast, pushing too hard. James hadn’t done that. She and James had spent a whole night just talking.

  “I’m not threatening you, but I think this was a mistake.” Christiana shook out her dress and started to pull it on.

  “Wait.” Dino took two deliberate steps back. “If you’re not into it, I completely respect that. I like to play…” He shrugged, looking a little uncomfortable. “I like it on the more extreme side, and I thought you did, too.”