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Irina shoved her feet into her boots and gave him a waiting look. Daniel remained speechless.
Irina patted him on the side of the face in a manner so patronizing he knew he’d just tied up, spanked, and fucked a fellow dominant.
She flicked open her tiny purse and handed him a card. Solid black, silver ink.Mistress Irina,followed by a phone number. Not just a dominant, but a dominatrix.
“Call me. Next time I’ll make you beg for it, little boy.”
3
Irina kissed him goodbye and left the bedroom. Daniel finished dressing. When he stepped into the hall, he found Kingsley lounging in an armchair, smoking. He blew a smoke ring and pushed two fingers through the hole.Very subtle.
Daniel crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe. “Last I remember, you were trying to quit.”
“I am trying. Just not very hard.” Kingsley stubbed out the cigarette in an ashtray. “Did you enjoy your lunch?”
Daniel glared at Kingsley as he slowly rose from the chair. “She’s a dominatrix.”
“So? I like all the dominants on my payroll to bottom every now and then,” Kingsley said. “It’s good for them. Humbling. Especially when I’m doing the humbling.”
Kingsley waved his hand, and Daniel followed him downstairs.
“You used to be a pro dom,” Daniel reminded him.
Kingsley raised his eyebrow at him as they reached the landing.“Daniel, I can’t imagine what you’re implying.”
“Monsieur,” came a sharp but sweet voice from the bottom of the steps. Anya again. Kingsley walked down the steps to the foyer, where Anya met him with a sheaf of messages. To Kingsley, Anya gave a curtsy. To Daniel, a look of pure loathing. Daniel hated knowing the girl was both virginal and off-limits. Every time she looked at him like that, he mentally put another handprint on her ass.
Kingsley dismissed her in French. To him, she gave another curtsy. To Daniel, another look of pure loathing. She flounced off again, the skirt of her sailor dress flying up as she twirled away.
“I know what you’re thinking…” Kingsley sang as he glanced through his messages.
“No, you don’t.”
“You want to make our little sailor girl walk your plank.”
Daniel smiled. “Okay, maybe you do know what I’m thinking. I guess I’m on her eternal shit list for being Canadian. Who hates Canadians anyway? We’re nice. We’re legally required to be nice.” He watched as she disappeared down the long hallway.
“She doesn’t hate you because you’re Canadian. She hates you because you dress for shit.”
Daniel looked down at his clothes. “I was in a Peruvian airport yesterday. Was I supposed to wear a tux?”
Kingsley tossed the messages onto a table and gave him a long look. “You’re not in Peru anymore, my friend. I’ll call my tailor. You go see him tomorrow.”
Daniel exhaled heavily. None of his old clothes fit very well anymore. Although he’d always been in good shape, a year of climbing mountains had broadened his shoulders and shrunk his waistline. And Kingsley did have the best tailor in town.
“I hadn’t planned on a long stay in the city,” Daniel reminded him. He had his country house to check on, too. Not that he particularly relished going back there. Too many memories waited for him—memories of the last year with Maggie as he watched her die, three years of hell after she’d gone, and one week of bliss when Eleanor came to him.
“Change your plans. At least stay in town through the auction. It’s in two weeks.”
“Why?” Daniel asked. He had no intention whatsoever of bidding on Anya. Not even to terrify her with the very idea of giving up her virginity to a poorly-dressed English-speaking Canadian.
Kingsley slapped him on the arm, and then took a cigarette case out of his jacket pocket and shook one out.“Because you’re in it,mon ami.”
“I’m what?”
“You think there’s such a thing as a free lunch?” Kingsley asked as he put the cigarette between his lips.
Daniel pulled it out and tossed it over his shoulder. “If Irina wanted to be paid, I’d pay her.”
