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“Everything okay over here?” a voice chirpily asked. A voice that belonged to one of my friends who’d been watching the entire scene.
Ryland tensed, his scowl melting away. Dropping his arm to his side, he cleared his throat—again—and turned to Inaya. “Yes, fine.”
She gave him one of her trademark bright smiles that could light up a room. “Great. I just need to borrow Izzy. For, like, ever. You have a good night.” Slipping her arm through mine, Inaya led me away. “Well that looked unpleasant. I couldn’t hear everything that got said.”
“That must have devastated you,” I muttered.
“It’s not my fault that I’m nosy, you can’t hold it against me.”
Reaching the table where our other friends, Briar and Cat, sat waiting, I took the empty seat opposite Inaya as I blew out a breath. “My hand actually tingles with the urge to slap him.”
“We ordered you a shot of Tequila,” said Briar beside me, her slanted blue-green eyes glinting with sympathy. With hair the color of pink champagne and all the curves a man could want, she was a woman who made an impact. Especially in that burgundy dress-shirt that boasted a pretty silver belt. “Wefigured you’d need it,” she added as she slid a small glass toward me.
“You figured right.” I knocked back the shot, enjoying the burn.
Briar—also my neighbor—was the person who first told me about the Vault. Well, she technically wasn’tmyneighbor. Not exactly. The apartment I was currently staying at belonged to my parents—they had various houses and apartments in different countries but, like me, they were British and based in London.
I enjoyed my job, and I was good at it—even if I did say so myself. Which I did. I thought it messed up that a woman wasn’t supposed to own her skills or talents; that to do so was considered ‘bragging.’ That was absolute bollocks. There was nothing at all wrong with taking pride in your accomplishments.
I’d covered a lot of big sports events over the years. It was both challenging and exciting. But it wasn’t what anyone would call relaxing, so there were times I sought a break. Whenever I needed downtime, I headed to the apartment here in Redwater. I’d been here for the past four months and wasn’t yet feeling a tug to leave. Each visit had been longer than the last, in truth.
“I got the impression that he tried defending his actions,” said Briar.
“I suspected he would,” I told her. “But the last thing I expected him to do was declare that he wanted us to go public and have something real.”
Inaya’s lips parted. “He honestly said that?”
“Yep. Of course, at that point, he had no idea I’d heard about him and Genevieve. He also insisted he cared about me. What a load of ole shit.”
Crossing one sun-kissed, long leg over the other, Cat tossed her platinum blonde beach waves over her shoulder. “I’m not sure I’d agree that he cares for you. And I don’t just meanbecause you told us he betrayed you. I’ve seen how he is around you. What he feels is more like an obsession. Not a creepy kind. I mean it’s more like he’s fixated onowningyou than on actually building something with you. And while I have nothing against a guy wanting to own his woman in some sense—it’s actually kind of a turn-on at times—it’s not so great if you’re no more than arm candy to him.”
“Agreed. And I think that’s all he really saw me as.” Sighing, I glanced around the lounge. The tasteful and stylish bar-slash-restaurant boasted dim lighting, dark walls, and shiny black marble flooring. Sensual background music played low.
Some people sat at tables and booths. Others congregated at the bar or relaxed on the leather sofas. For most people, a meal or drink at the lounge was a prelude to a night of ‘play.’ Others played right hereinthe lounge in full view of any who cared to watch.
The basement wasn’t like a fetish club. It didn’t play heavy metal music, or feature medieval-looking machines that could both intrigue and daunt. In essence, it was merely a safe place to explore your fantasies, particularly for those who couldn’t usually do so without such things being leaked to the press.
The themed private rooms were extremely popular. You could also indulge in public displays of sexual affection not only in the lounge but in the dome, which was the basement’s dance floor—no one would bat an eyelid about it.
Though the basement didn’t cater specifically to BDSM, quite a few members were involved in it. As such, some people who were intrigued by the lifestyle but not entirely sure they wanted to explore it used this very floor as a means to seek out like-minded people. Sometimes they then dipped their toe in the pool.
Watching a couple rise from their table wearing little ‘let’s go rodger each other’ looks, I felt a twinge of envy. There’d sadly be no playing for me tonight.
I turned back to my friends. “Why is it that I always seem to fall into bad relationships? I don’t get it. It’s not like I have the sort of emotional baggage that would make me subconsciously seek out arseholes or anything. The blokes I get involved with are always so nice to me in the beginning. Little by little, they change. They do occasional mean stuff or try to put me down. I know that nobody’s perfect. I’m not expecting perfection. I just … it would simply be nice to break the pattern, that’s all.”
“You have the same issue as Inaya,” said Briar. “Men feel intimidated by you. You’re not only astonishingly beautiful, you’re talented and successful. More, you’re fiercely self-reliant and don’tneedpeople. From what you’ve told me of your past relationships, I think your exes were kind of daunted by it all. I think they didn’t feel secure in their hold on you and resented you for it—hence the attempts to peck at your confidence. When they couldn’t convince you that you were lucky to have them, they struck out at you to soothe their ego.”
I frowned. “You and Cat are beautiful and talented and successful.”
“But while our families are well-known, we’ve been able to keep a lower profile than you and Inaya—the media doesn’t consider me or Cat interesting. Also, I’m a costume designer ... Cat a freelance book editor—neither are thought of as manly professions. Sports photography is, though it shouldn’t be.”
“But Inaya’s a singer and lyricist—neither of those are considered especially masculine professions.”
“But we can all agree that the rock music industry itself is male-dominated. She belts out rock music like a boss. She’s spoken of in the same sentences as legends like Mercury and Springsteen. She’s collaborated with equally successful andadored artists. All her albums went platinum, and she’s won God knows how many awards. That level of fame and recognition can be intimidating to any guys who are interested in her, especially if that level topstheirs.”
I looked at Inaya. “Even with all that, I don’t understand how you could possibly be single.”
Warm and authentic with an indomitable spirit, Inaya was always moving and doing and singing … like a hummingbird. She was also incredibly beautiful with her heavy-lidded Nordic blue eyes, golden skin, slender build, and her ruby red hair that was lightly streaked with black and various shades of purple.
