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“Checking your phone won’t make her text you.” Belle smiled sympathetically.

“I know.”

She settled in the chair across from him. “Do you think maybe you’re feeling this way because she’s the first woman in a long time that hasn’t fallen all over herself trying to get your attention?”

With a laugh, he sat back. “You don’t do that.”

“You wouldn’t wear a collar for me any more than I’d wear one for you. It would get ugly fast.” Belle laughed quietly. “That’s one of the reasons why you hired me, remember? No temptations at work.”

“I hired you because you’re smart and efficient, and you’re good with people.”

“Mmmhmm.”

“And because I knew our business relationship would never become complicated by a personal relationship.”

“Our friendship might complicate things though. Like the fact that I have no qualms about telling you that you’ve been wandering around here for weeks acting like a starving dog waiting to be fed.” She arched a brow at him, and it wasn’t hard to imagine her making the same face at her sub. Domme faces didn’t work on him, though. He was immune.

“Things are almost sorted out with her, then everything will go back to normal.” He looked at his guest list again: six men, one of whom already had a sub and was looking for another woman to add to their relationship.

Hell, he’d never even asked Kate if that would appeal to her. The thick line he’d drawn through Ambrose’s name bothered him. It was too late to cancel the party now, but with Ambrose leaving on urgent business, his best hope for Kate was gone.

“I’ll believe that when I see it. I’m going to get lunch. I’m bringing some back for you. I will force-feed you if necessary.” She shook her head. “And people say that men aren’t emotional. You just wear it differently.” Belle frowned at him, then walked out of his office.

Emotional? He considered Kate, visualized her in his head, and let go of the business end of planning a party at his house.

Okay. Then he pictured being at a party and watching her submit to someone else. His stomach soured. Pushing the thought aside, he stood and started tidying the piles of paper on his desk, not sure if he was screwing up the order he’d purposely left them in. Not caring. He had to do something. Maybe Belle was right and he needed to go home.

As he walked past the admin’s desk, he asked Tanja to hold down the fort. She’d been with them long enough to manage fifteen minutes on her own. Maybe they’d actually keep this one. In the elevator he texted Belle.

Don’t bother getting lunch for me. I’m going home.

Her response came back right away. Eat food. Don’t turn into crazy stalker guy.

Yes, Ma’am.

Although he’d meant to go home, his car ended up at his mother’s house instead. With Ambrose and Konstantin both out of town, and Kate avoiding him, he felt as if he were adrift with nothing to anchor him to sanity. Expecting Rook to entertain him for a few hours, he was stunned when Meadow told him he’d gone to hang out with Dylan. His mom was asleep, and Meadow was busy organizing the storage room and didn’t want his help.

He toyed with the idea of going back to work, but he’d just distract people who were being productive.

For a while he drove, then wandered around a park on the outskirts of town, trying not to think of anything but the way the tree line met the sky, the quiet elegance of leaves, the cacophony of the city poking up in the distance.

At home, he went to his loft and laid aside the canvas he’d been working on. He pulled out a fresh one. Too many ugly feelings needed to get out, and he didn’t know what to do with them all. He meant to paint his loneliness and rejection, the feeling that no one would ever want to know him as he knew himself.

Stroke by stroke, he painted her face instead. Lovely, even though he knew she didn’t want him. Her eyes stared, as deep and luminous as they were when she was his.

***

“Remember to keep your eyes down unless someone asks you to look at them.”

“Yes, Sir.” All in white. The sacrificial lamb. The dress he’d chosen for her was slightly shorter than he’d anticipated. It definitely drew the eye to her sinful legs, which tore him up inside, but it would have to do. He wasn’t supposed to be keeping her covered up for himself. How many times did he have to keep telling himself that? No bra, no underwear, minimal makeup. He wanted them to know what they were getting with her. His hands were clumsy as he slipped the white leather collar around her neck, fumbling as he buckled it.

Mine, at least for tonight.

“I wish you’d let me wear shoes. I feel weird like this when everyone else will be fully dressed.”

“Sir,” he grumbled.

She looked at him in confusion.

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