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Curiosity and willingness are a must from the women who are curated and invited to partake in these exclusive events. It’s a lust-filled fever dream for many, an irresistible temptation for others, and a potentially life-altering opportunity for all involved.
It’s an honor and a privilege and yet... a constant reminder for me. Taking the iron spiral staircase up to the second floor to my office, I remember a time when all of this was only a dream to me. Something I thought would lessen the pain of my wounds, in a way. Stopping short of my office door, I lean my back against the wall and take in a deep, steadying breath.
Today will always be a heavy date, but reminders of him are everywhere in this place, and recently, more often than not, I’ve felt as if maybe, after so many years, it’s time to let go. It’s been so long, and although I deal in the world of fantasy, I don’t want to live in one myself.
Shaking off the nerves, I open up the door and go about my tasks as if it’s any other day. My purse and tweed coat are hung on the metal hooks in the closet, and my golden heels click on the white-washed wooden floors of the office. Apart from the blush wingback chair, the blood-red velvet curtains that line the back wall, and a pale pink damask wallpaper on the right side, everything in my office is a bright white. Even the roses are white in their crystal vase. They’re delivered weekly, and the soft scent carries through the long days.
My carved wooden desk is new. It’s curved, with two clear, yet comfortable chairs that cost a fortune. They’re modern and transparent. Every inch of this place looks and feels expensive. And that’s because it is.
My typical deep red attire, in the form of cashmere dresses and silk blouses tailored just for me, fits right at home with the image of femininity yet confidence and power. Today, though, my black V-neck dress stands apart from the softness of my office.
I take a sip of the barely still hot coffee before setting it down on the coaster and bringing my computer to life. Just as I think to myself that the cheap cardboard cup should be replaced with a porcelain cup before anyone arrives, the screen flicks on and there’s a knock at the office door.
Curse my desperate heart. For a moment, a fraction of a moment, I thinkit’s him.The treacherous thought lingers a second too long before I swallow down the foolishness. Hating my lovesick thoughts, I clear my throat and call out, “Come in,” knowing all too well that it’s only my security team.
I half expect it to be Joshua, a good friend and partner and the only other person who knows almost everything. He knows enough ... more than enough. It’s a foolish thought, though. There isn’t a reason that he’d be in this early.
“Madam Lynn,” he greets me with a tilt of his head, both hands shoved into his hoodie jacket. Dressed all in black, he appears somewhat intimidating at the moment. But under the hoodie is a collared shirt, and the moment he smirks, charm takes over all appearances. “It turned winter overnight, huh?” Holden is a twenty-two-year-old kid. With bright blue eyes and a handsome face, he’s as charismatic as he is brutal.
“Your knuckles have healed well,” I comment agreeably, making a note to lift a brow as I spot the bruised skin. When I met Holden, he was broken down and seemingly damaged beyond repair. He needed a distraction and a second chance.
A client once told me I’m a collector of broken birds. My gaze slips to a small wooden bird painted white that sits next to my computer. That client, a beautiful young woman needing only a chance to escape, gifted me the bird the week she got engaged.With love, we will all fly againis engraved on the bottom.
It’s not that I pitied Holden. I needed someone on my security team who would blend in. Someone nonthreatening. Someone young to offer a different feel for the women who were intimidated by the other men on my team. All he needed was a hot shower, a good night’s rest, and a sharp suit.
It was a partnership that we entered into and one that has played out exactly as I intended.
“Knuckles and” —he turns to show off his freshly shaven and sharp jaw— “no more bruise.” He smirks, and I huff a laugh. “Wonderful, although I don’t think the ladies minded your stubble.”
He chuckles, and as he does so, I ease into my chair.
“So for today,” he starts and then runs down the events and who will be on schedule. I nod along, although I already know.
My fingers slip up to my collar bone, and the tips of them travel along the thin chain of my necklace. It’s a habit, a soothing one.
Holden has earned his keep and is slowly taking over the management of security. I’m a bit controlling and obsessed with details, but I have to admit, slowing down and allowing others to come in and take over have been a blessing and a curse.
The more time I have, the more time I have to think. Work is my coping mechanism. If I don’t have it, I’m only left with memories.
“Madam Lynn?” Holden’s voice hitches slightly, gathering my attention.
“Oh, yes, I’m sorry. Could you repeat that for me?” Readjusting, I cross my legs and square my shoulders.
“I just asked if you were alright?”
“I’m fine,” I answer and correct my expression.
“You just look a little ...” His voice drifts, and I finish his sentence.
“Lost in thought?”
“Sad,” he corrects.
“Oh.” My tone reflects my surprise.
“You want to talk about it?” he offers.
He’s used me as his therapist more times than I can count. I don’t tell anyone my secrets, though. They’re too dark and too heavy a burden for anyone else to carry. I’ve confided in him before after late nights and a glass of Cabernet ... or three. But some thoughts I’ll never breathe to life. Not even in times like these when I feel so desperately alone.
