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“I need your membership card, sir,” she said, holding out her hand.
Rory had shared that security at Club N2 had tightened up just before she joined. Every member had an ID card that was swiped when they entered and again when they left, allowing both staff and volunteers to keep track of how many guests were in the building at any one time.
The man slowly approached the desk, moving with the grace of a wolf stalking its prey. His expression vacillated between anger and intrigued.
“You’re new,” he said once he was standing on the other side of the desk.
“I’ve been a member for two months,” Zoe answered, wondering what that had to do with his presenting his membership card.
“Two months, eh? Well, that explains why you don’t recognize me.”
“Sir, I need your card. You cannot enter the dungeon without it,” Zoe repeated.
He frowned at her as he admitted, “I don’t have a card.”
She dropped her left hand below the counter and began to swipe it left and right under the edge, searching for the yellow call button. The longer she spoke to this man, the more apparent it became to her that he was trouble.
When he took a deep breath and crossed his arms over his chest, she dropped her gaze just long enough to find the strip of tape on the counter that showed where the button was. She hesitated just a second before slapping the button in the hopes that someone would respond before this man gatecrashed his way into the dungeon.
A moment later, the intercom system cut the music. “Code yellow in the lobby. Code yellow in the lobby.”
After three months of traveling to their overseas offices evaluating and upgrading the security systems of each, all Morgan Seacrest wanted was to spend a relaxing evening at the BDSM club of which he owned one-third. His plan was to find a sweet little masochist to beat on and fuck away his stress. He would then have a drink with his best friends and their women before returning to his penthouse apartment, alone. Hopefully, by then he would be relaxed enough to get back on some sort of regular sleep cycle.
Too bad his plans were being thwarted by a new volunteer with a guard dog complex.
And she was a pretty little thing with big bright blue eyes and strawberry-blonde hair that was bluntly cut to just above her shoulders. She was half a foot shorter than his own six foot two, and from what he could see of her body, she was a full-figured wench with big breasts barely contained by the bright red sports bra she wore.
Morgan frowned as he looked around the lobby. Where were Griffin and Luke, both the retired NFL defensive linemen they had hired to act as bouncers when they were not on their day jobs as police officers, after Roque, Viking’s woman, was kidnapped while inside the club? And why was this woman working the desk alone? There were supposed to be two people manning the front desk at all times.
“Code yellow in the lobby. Code yellow in the lobby.”
“What the fuck?” he said as the double doors that led to the dungeon burst open and several large men wearing black leather and denim charged into sight.
As they surrounded him and the front desk, the tension in the lobby skyrocketed. He smiled and raised his hands to shoulder height when he recognized the men who encircled him.
Standing there, he started mentally planning the scene that would punish this little wildcat behind the front desk who refused him entrance into his own club.
Chapter Two
Zoe watched in growing horror as the men who had rushed into the lobby studied the newcomer for just a moment. In the next instant, the silent lobby filled with warm greetings as the men exchanged handshakes, fist bumps, and back slapping hugs with the stranger. The type seen at reunions of old friends or at bars after the home team won a championship game.
The troublemaker was apparently well-known and well-liked by these men.
Shit, she was in trouble.
It took a few minutes before the lobby emptied, leaving behind only Griffin, and the newcomer, who she deduced from the conversation was the third owner of the club. The other men sent her looks that confirmed her realization that she was in trouble. She wondered if this screwup would cost her just her volunteer job, or her club membership as well.
Though, if she lost her position on the volunteer staff, she would also lose the discounted membership fees that went with it. Which meant she would have to resign from the club. And that would suck since she had yet to delve deep enough into her kinky side to really understand herself.
Griffin leaned on the counter and said, “Zoe, I’d like to introduce you to Morgan Seacrest, the missing owner of the club. He’s been out of the country for the past few months, which is why you haven’t met before now. Master Morgan, meet Zoe Love, newest member of the volunteer staff.”
Zoe looked over her shoulder at the picture hanging on the wall behind her. Looking at the third owner in the picture before turning back to look at the man in person, she felt her face burn with embarrassment.
The man in the photograph wore a three-piece suit with his hair cut short and stylish and a few days of scruff covered his face. The man before her looked like a borderline hippie with his long hair and nearly out-of-control beard. How was she to know the two men were the same?
“I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you, Mr. Seacrest, but you have to admit that you don’t exactly look like your picture.” She waved a hand at the framed newspaper article with a picture of the three owners as they cut the ribbon on the club’s opening day.
“It’s all right, little bunny. When does your shift end?”
