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My brows knit together.
“She’ll supervise, of course.” He runs his fingers through his hair. “I’m being vague on purpose because every client is different. Some want whips, others watersports. Some of them just like CBT.”
“What’s that?” I croak.
“Cock and ball torture.”
My stomach drops. The idea of kicking some guy in the balls sounds fine, but I don’t think I’d have the patience for the equivalent of what Professor did with the clit tickler.
“Yeah, no.” I take a step back toward the door. “That’s too heavy.”
“You could work with me behind the counter,” he blurts.
“Thanks, but no.” I turn on my heel and hurry toward the exit.
BDSM sounds great in the books, but the thought of allowing a paid client to put their hands on me or the other way around makes my skin crawl.
“Phoenix—”
I don’t hear the rest of Nick’s sentence because I’ve already shut the door. He could offer me 2,000 per hour and the answer would still be no. I continue down the high street, letting the breeze cool my heated skin.
If only I had the number for Seacroft Prison. Dad would be shocked that I’d refused an offer twenty times the minimum wage. It turns out that all the things he said about me weren’t entirely true.
I slow my steps to gaze at the delicatessen’s window display. It’s an old-fashioned store with cooked meat behind glass counters and salamis hanging from the ceiling among garlands of peppers and strings of garlic.
My gaze drops to a charcuterie board that isn’t half as elaborate as the one Professor Segul prepared, and I remember Nick’s words.
“What kind of experienced dom needs to buy thousands of pounds worth of toys?” I say it out loud because I still don’t understand why Professor Segul would have all the furniture but no toys.
My throat thickens. Why the hell does everything remind me so much of him?
“Phoenix,” shouts a voice from down the road.
Charlotte strides toward me with Axel at her heels.
“Hey.” I raise a hand.
She pulls me into a hug. “Feeling better?”
I give her a non-committal nod. “Things could be worse.”
She knows it didn’t end well with my older man, but I still haven’t mustered up the courage to reveal his identity. Maybe when Professor Eckhart returns, I might say something. Right now, the thought of Professor Segul going back to London hurts like a raw nerve.
“Veer’s been on a downer since your argument,” Axel says.
I stare up at the tall bass player, who frowns down at me as though I kicked his friend in the balls.
“We didn’t—” I shake my head, my mind dredging up the awkward exchange from Tuesday, when I’d been furious about being dumped by Professor Segul. “What did he say?”
“That he said something offensive and you’ll probably never speak to him again.”
I pull my brows together, not quite believing that those were the words of a person who barely acknowledged my presence.
“Why’s he suddenly interested?” I ask.
Axel raises a shoulder. “He’s breaking away from the family. That includes breaking away from their way of doing things.”
I give Axel a blank look because Veer only bothered to remember his family valuesaftertaking my virginity.
