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I had nothing here. I’d never made any lasting friends; people either kissed my ass or added work to my plate. They wanted to buy me lunch so they could network me into their fold or they had a favor to ask. Everyone was constantly trying to get ahead.
My name was in the proverbial hat for future partners, but it’d been there for a couple years now. And the other four or five prospects—forget having a casual conversation with them. The moment someone opened their mouth, at least two others were wondering what ulterior motive they had.
How I’d once received my fuel from such a toxic place, I’d never understand.
The elevator doors opened, and I took a deep breath. Charles and Ana ruled the lobby area as always, and both were surprised to see me. Rather, the state of me.
I ushered Noa down the corridor leading to the conference rooms, past the door to the bullpen, and aimed for the door that led to the offices. On the way, I nodded in hello, and Charles and Ana nodded back, looking sufficiently stunned.
“I think they’re gonna talk about you soon,” Noa whispered too loudly.
I snorted softly and held the door for him.
Let them talk.
For every step I took, the better I felt about quitting altogether. It didn’t matter that I had no clue what to do next, as long as I got out of here.
Each office we walked by had a name etched in the polished gold metal sign, and every random potted plant in the corridor had been watered. No brown leaves, no stains on the carpet, not a speck of dust in any corners.
Thomas Wilkins and Shawn Lopez stood outside the latter’s office and looked up from Thomas’s phone when we passed.
“Hey…Lucian…?” Shawn’s greeting came out more like a question.
“Shawn. Thomas.” I nodded.
When we reached the far end, we arrived at a row of offices that each had an assistant’s desk outside. My assistant wasn’t here today, so I just stepped right into my office.
I could admit, I was going to miss this part. On a stressful day, looking out over the river and the city helped center me. The walls were surprisingly thick, and one could feel like the only person in the world in here. Which had both its ups and downs, I supposed. I’d felt lonely in here as well, especially before I’d broken things off with my ex.
I remembered standing there near the corner where the windows met. My thoughts would wander to other submissives, mainly Cam. Definitely mostly him. And Tate and Ivy and…well, before Ella had cheated on Pen, I’d thought of her too. The pets in my life who lived to serve their Masters and Mistresses. How devoted they’d been, how involved in their partners’ lives they’d wanted to be.
Robert had never visited me here. Not that I’d asked him to. It hadn’t been on our radars to include each other when it came to our careers. We’d been together for years, and I only ever met his family once. We’d been exclusive, with a small “don’t ask, don’t tell” clause that’d been reserved for a select few. And that…was probably a stretch. I’d wanted monogamy, and he’d needed two play partners he’d discovered kink with back in Phoenix. So I’d known, whenever he flew home, something was likely to happen.
It hadn’t bothered me too much, to be honest. I’d had my rather unconventional friendship with KC since his marriage had started deteriorating, and then I’d been swamped with work. But I’d always found the time, somehow, to stand in that damn corner, look out over the river, and wonder what kind of Master would eventually snatch up Cameron Jacobson.
Some lucky son of a bitch who better never fucking hurt him, I recalled thinking.
I frowned to myself, opened one of the cabinets, and picked up a box filled with old files. I dumped the files on the floor, then headed over to my desk to grab my few belongings.
A picture of KC and me the day I got my master’s degree.
“Now what, Mr. Leroux?”
I laughed and shoved at him. “Well, since you passed the bar, I guess there’s only one thing. We get filthy rich and live happily ever after.”
I smiled faintly and looked at our untroubled grins.
The next photo was of KC and Noa, taken seconds after Noa had jumped off the stage following a sweaty gig. Drumsticks high in the air, KC ready to catch our boy in a tight hug, purple spotlights casting shadows over the two.
Last but not least, a picture of Cam. He’d been sitting in my reading chair, with a cookbook, and he’d caught me sneaking a photo of him. That soft, playful smile of his whispered of a sense of serenity I hadn’t seen in him in a while.
It killed me.
We’d only been together six months, and I’d already replaced the honeymoon joy with worry and uncertainties.
“You’re gonna work things out, Sir,” Noa murmured. “I think as soon as he learns you’ve quit, he’ll know you’re serious.”
One could hope. But I was ready to go further if I needed. As in, show him this was permanent. I was steeling myself, because this could take time.
