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“You’re quite welcome, Miss Barr.”
I tried not to roll my eyes as he played the part of the perfect gentleman, allowing the purposeful omission of his title to slide. I knew if it had been anyone else, he’d give them his signature glare until they realized the error of their ways.
“I’ll check in with you later,” Nathan said, meeting my gaze over the princess’ head.
“Sounds good, and thanks again, Jeanette.”
“My pleasure, Sir. Enjoy your visit, Mia.”
She left with Nathan and I gestured to the chair he had recently vacated. “Please, have a seat.” Just like the shaky smile I’d seen her give Jeanette, her legs were trembling. I had to admire her ability to make it to the chair before her knees gave out. If I hadn’t witnessed her both outside the club and in the lobby, I might have taken pity on her. But appearing on my doorstep could be likened to her waving the red flag in front of the bull. I was not only the matador, I had games of my own to play.
I took my seat and read through the form she’d filled out, noticing that like her hair color and eyelashes, she’d faked her way down the pages. Granted, I could accept the fact she was submissive rather than dominant. One only had to look at her blushing cheeks and her averted glances to ascertain the truth of that. And while it wasn’t surprising that a submissive like being spanked, I’d never before seen one who’d then drawn a line through every implement listed that would serve to satisfy that desire. You’d think that left only a hand to redden her ass, yet on the next page circled she was fine with being bound and hadn’t draw a line through either the flogger, crop, or single-tail whip. It didn’t make a lick of sense. Had she filled out the form with her eyes closed?
Looking up, I asked, “Did you see anything on your tour that drew your interest?”
“What? I didn’t see anything!”
Lie number two.
“Then I’ll have to speak with Jenny as our guests normally don’t keep their eyes shut during a tour.”
“No, please don’t. Jeanette was the perfect hostess. I just… well, to be honest?—”
As if that were possible. Fibs might fall easily from her lips, but I had to give her kudos for defending Jenny even while she dug her hole deeper.
“—I was simply respecting other guests’ right to privacy. I seem to remember that was one of the rules on the form?”
Well, score one for her. The little minx had me there.
“It is,” I granted. “But so is the rule stating the owners have the right to question any guest as we feel necessary.”
The look of self-righteousness slipped from her face when she realized I’d bested her. “Oh… um…”
Are you having fun yet, Princess?
“Would you like to reconsider your answer, Miss Barr?” I looked down at the form where my index finger was tapping against the circled answer. “Perhaps that would explain why you list an implement as mundane as a wooden paddle as unacceptable while stating you’re fond of whips?”
“I did?” she whispered, her face going crimson.
I could practically hear the gears turning in her head as she sought a way out of answering truthfully. When her eyes brightened and her fingers stopped fidgeting with the hem of her dress, I knew she thought she’d found a loophole.
“Well, if you must know, there was this woman tied to this, um… big X-thing and he was, um, whipping her. It… well, it was very… um, moving.”
“I see,” I said succinctly, not reminding her that the form had been filled out before she’d witnessed any such scene. Deciding to let her stew in her juices a while, I read through the pages a second and then a third time, waiting until I saw her relax, the rigidity of her spine loosening enough to allow her to sit back. I had to hide a grin when she realized that doing so lifted her feet completely off the ground. When she frowned and began to scooch forward, I bit back a chuckle. It appeared she hadn’t had a growth spurt since her early teens. Even with her ankle-breaking heels, if she topped six inches over five feet, I’d be surprised. When she appeared as settled as she was going to be, I set the clipboard down and steepled my fingers.
“Tell me a little about yourself, Mia.”
Her head snapped back to me from the perusal of her surroundings. “Why? I mean, I filled out the form.”
“You did indeed, but is there anything else you’d like to tell me?”
Her eyes narrowed, the fake lashes looking a bit like the hairy legs of a dead spider as she studied me.
“Like what?”
I shrugged. “Like where you’re from?”
“Does that matter? Do you not allow people from other cou.… um, states, to play in your club?”
