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“I said I have an early session so I can go on a date tonight.”
I smirk at her, and both my brows drop. “A date on a Monday night?” That sounds boring.
“I’m having dinner with Raqi.”
I shake my head and chuckle. “Sounds like fun.”
“It will be. I found this new restaurant that has a book theme. It’s mostly Alice in Wonderland. I’m taking her there for an early dinner.”
“She’ll love that.”
Raqi is Jas’s little sister. She’s six years old and wants to grow up to be a tattoo artist like Erika. I want her to go to college too, just like Erika and I did.
The bell rings over the door again, and in walks Erika’s client followed by Ryan. I met him in Chicago at an expo, and he’s been using me since he moved here. I didn’t know he was with Jas, or I would’ve kicked his ass. Both Rika and I took Jas in when she was at her lowest. We’ve helped her where we could and made up our own family from it. She adopted her younger two siblings, Koda and Raquel, after their parents died. Jasmin’s other brother, Aaron, wanted to turn them over to the state. We helped Jas keep them. We gave her a job and helped her while she finished college. Now this man enters her life and wants to help her. Ryan is older than her, but she loves him, and I can tell he loves her too. He’s shown it by being there with her when she was attacked multiple times by Aaron and his drug dealer friends. I hope this latest attack is the end of all that. But then I wonder about Ryan’s relationship with the other woman, Ley.
“Shouldn’t you be home with Jas, making sure she’s okay?” I scoff at Ryan as I look out the window and see the beautiful woman. As she pulls herself up into a truck, I can make out her fine ass in her cargo pants. Yep, she’s sexy.
“I had a meeting.” He waves his hand behind him. “I’d like to talk to you about referring someone to the club.” His words almost make me drop and fall to my knees in thanks in hopes it’s my tough beauty.
“Come on.” I wave a hand and take him back to my office so we can talk.
When he leaves half an hour later, I still don’t know if it’s her or not, but I suspect it is. He asked me about NDAs and special contracts. He’s been a Dom for a while, so I know he knows most of the rules. The contracts we discussed are special. About names and privacy. Things I completely understand and respect.
Could it be the beautiful Ley?
Two
RIDLEY
I look at myself in the mirror again. I can’t believe I’m doing this. But the nightmares are so bad I can barely sleep, and my body aches for things I can’t give it. I even dream about a man I only met once. In the three months since we moved here, I’ve got Franci registered at the local university. She only comes home monthly on the weekends, and I always have a team on her.
But that’s not why I’m nervous right now. I’m getting ready for my first session with the whipmaster. We’ve signed extensive contracts and nondisclosure agreements. He is just identified as Master. I don’t know his name, and he only knows me as my member number. I will enter the club through a side door so no one will see me and then proceed to his exclusive room.
I went shopping at a local boutique for some sexy undergarments and negligees. I have a black dress on covering the outfit I have on beneath. I slip on my Louboutin Daffodile red-bottom heels. Again, I look at myself and am shocked by what I see. I have heavy black liner around my eyes and a full face of makeup on. Hopefully, he’ll be distracted by how sexy I’ve tried to look and not by all my scars.
I fluff Murtaugh’s fur as I pass him on my way toward the elevator that leads to the garage. My black cashmere ankle-length trench coat covers my body. I have a small gun and knife in my clutch, but I still feel vulnerable. Not just because of what I’m wearing, but because I’m going to expose myself to this man. I almost asked for a female Domme, but I’m kind of hoping it will be Leif. I want to fantasize about him while I’m whipped. I can’t do that with a female.
I slide into my ’94 Porsche 993 Carrera and smile. It’s black, just like my wardrobe. My brother Gray helped me get this one. Looking over at my classic Mustang, I remember the day Andrei helped me get that one. It was on a rare trip I made back to Vegas before my life became complicated. No one but Babushka knows about Franci, and I have to keep it that way. My babushka hates keeping the secret, but I needed her help when I was attacked. She came to Chicago to help me heal. She took care of me and fell in love with Franci. Since then she tries to sneak away to see me often. But I can’t let anyone else know about her. My father would make her a pawn. Franci will never know that life.
After driving the few miles to the private club, I pull up to the side of the large warehouse and park in the employee parking area that I was directed to use. I exit my car and take a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves. I think of the times I used to dress up for my father’s events or when I had to for the military. I went undercover once. That’s what I can do now, pretend I’m someone else. I’ll only be known by my member number anyway. I can be anyone.
I knock on the door, and it’s opened by an extremely large man who looks down at me. He’s not only tall but muscular.
“I’m here for an appointment.” My voice trembles slightly.
The man nods and points to a staircase. “Up there, first door.” His voice is gruff.
I walk up the stairs, using the sleeve of my jacket to hold on to the railing. For years, I’ve kept myself hidden. Now is not the time to leave behind fingerprints and come out in the open.
With the aid of my jacket, I pull open the large sliding door and step inside. The room is lit with candles, allowing a lot of shadows a person can hide in. I try to relax, but this situation causes some of my anxiety to come to the surface.
“We are the only ones in here.” A deep, husky voice rumbles around the room. I tremble, but it’s not in fear this time. My skin tingles, and I feel a bit off step.
I look in the direction the voice came from, and I see a figure lounged back in a chair. I can’t make out his details other than his black shiny Oxfords and black slacks. He shifts, and a whip rests on his knee. The black leather calls to me, and gooseflesh pops up across my skin.
“Have you ever been whipped?” he says and rests a tattooed hand on the leather handle. A vision of Leif flashes through my mind.
“No.”
