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“Oh God,” she catches her breath, “seriously though. Sleeping with your best friend’s little sister? I did not see that coming. I love Claire, you know that.”
I nod in acknowledgment. “Con actually texted her before things went too far. It was a bucket of ice that we both needed.”
A moment of quiet hangs between us as we study each other.
“Do you like each other, or is this just a physical thing?” She watches me think for a moment, knowing I won’t answer her out loud. “I ask because I know you. You love Connor and Levi more than friends. You three are brothers and have been since you were babies. You don’t want to risk ruining that unless you are ready to go all in. Make sure that it is real. That it is deep. That it is true. Make sure you are ready to face the consequences, regardless of what you end up doing moving forward. Because at the end of the day, Connor will choose his sister over you, and you could end up with nothing.”
I give another nod before dropping my head to my hands and applying pressure to my temples. She stands and walks over to me, places a kiss on my head and rubs my back. I listen to her heels click across my floor as she walks to the door.
“Griff,” she says from the doorway, “you could also end up with everything you deserve. I can see it in your face how much you care.” With that last statement, she closes the door behind her with a quiet click.
After sitting in silence for a few minutes, I turn on our twenty-four hour news channel for background noise. It’s clear I won’t be able to turn my mind off, so I might as well channel my energy into something productive. I open the bottom drawer of my desk and pull out the books I have on Multiple Sclerosis.
Claire is mad at me right now, but it doesn’t change the fact that I’m the only person aside from her doctors who knows about her condition. I’m going to learn every fucking thing there is to know, so I can support her through this. I already hacked her records to make sure there wasn’t anything she was holding back, and I can’t lie, my chest warmed when I realized she trusted me with everything she knows.
Not that she would freely give that trust knowing I violated her privacy and a slew of laws to ensure I know everything. Her anger wouldn’t change anything though. I’ll go to any extreme to protect and support the people I care about.
* * *
I haven’t seen Claire in a couple of weeks, not since the night in my office. I had to cancel our Friday night dinner the following week for an unexpected meeting in our Tokyo office. Today she sent a text that her best friend was dragging her to some club to see her boyfriend perform.
It’s just as well. I need to spend some time at Seven, the club I own with Grant, a friend who graduated from the same prep school as me a few years before me. He and his friends are a lot like Con, Lev, and me, keeping their hands in many different pots.
Grant and I opened Seven as a means to an end. The Manhattan club scene is constantly changing, and we wanted ours to stand the test of time. It’s a tri-level club. Ground level is our burlesque club with performances six days a week. On Sundays, we host a drag show brunch that quickly became our most popular event.
The floor below holds our dungeon. You have to be a member, have filled out a background check, and signed an extensive non-disclosure agreement. The clientele that comes down to entertain their most wicked desires ranges from Saudi princes to politicians to movie stars. Membership is expensive and exclusive, but down there you can be yourself. If you are the CEO of a Fortune 500 company who wants to be led around by leash and collar, you are safe to do so there. Any fantasy can be fulfilled, so long as consent is freely given and boundaries are explicitly negotiated. We have in-house attorneys overseeing operations.
The level below the dungeon houses a UFC-style fighting ring where we hold unsanctioned underground fights every two weeks. It is illegal, but we run it ethically and cleanly. The dungeon and the fight club do serve a greater purpose for Grant and me. We have an incredible amount of leverage over some of the most powerful people on the planet, and we aren’t above using it to our advantage.
People give you their secrets when they feel comfortable. It’s a lesson I learned early on in life watching my sisters. If you create an environment that is safe against the outside but allows direct access inside, you can sit back and observe. Those observations can be sculpted into knowledge and thus power. I got away with so much because I held all my sisters’ secrets. Truthfully, I never would have thrown any of them under the bus, but the threat did allow me coverage for the weekends I would sneak away into the city.
I was fifteen the first time I found my way into a BDSM dungeon. It was a shady place, dirty and unsafe, but back before I knew any better. I fell in love with the lifestyle. I’ve always felt a little different. A little darker, which is impressive when your best friend is violent-tempered Russian. The drive to dominate everyone and everything in my life is so strong. I’m sure you could psychoanalyze that it has to do with being the youngest of five with only sisters. Ultimately, it doesn’t matter why I’m like this because I’ve found my niche, and I like it here.
I walk into the lobby of Seven and head upstairs for the office level. Grant has an office there, as do I, in addition to our in-house attorneys and the managers of each level. I stop and knock on Grant’s door, entering when I hear him say to come in.
“Hey,” he stands, and we smack hands sideways, “I haven’t seen you in forever.”
“I know. Things at NNC are keeping me busy. We’re acquiring some affiliates in Asia and then some newspapers out west. I spent last week in San Francisco and Tokyo.”
“Well, the good news is that things are running smooth as fuck here.” He leans back in his chair and locks his fingers behind his head.
“Is there bad news?”
“Yeah, an old friend of mine is in some trouble. I might have to be scarce for a while.”
“Anything you need help with?”
“Not at the moment, but I’ll definitely let you know if there is something.” He hands me a sheet of paper. “Here are the public scenes tonight down in the dungeon. Fire and electro play with Donovan and Mara.”
“Sounds good. Those two always put on a good show.”
“From our reservations list, it looks like we’ll be at capacity.” He glances down as his phone starts ringing. “I need to grab this,” he says apologetically.
I nod and wave goodbye before walking across the hall to my office. I flip the TV over to NNC and pull out some paperwork from Con regarding our tech startup. I work for a few hours until Grant comes in with some takeout. We sit around and catch up on life outside of work until the doors open downstairs.
I’m chatting with one of our bartenders when I hear the un-fucking-mistakable southern accented voice of Friday Cunningham, Claire’s best friend. I step back into the shadows, hoping that they didn’t see me. It’s not a big secret that I own this place, but it’s also not something widely known. In fact, I don’t think Claire even knows.
They walk into view, strolling up to the bar. Claire is wearing a black leather dress that laces up the sides and fits like a second skin. I can’t see her legs, but I’m guessing she’s wearing stilettos because she is about five inches taller than usual. Her hair is pulled back tight into a sleek ponytail, highlighting her gorgeous face. As usual, she’s wearing very little makeup, although she did put on a dark red lipstick.
