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He stood over me, his hands on either side. “I have a meeting. We’ll get your truck later.”
“What about Charlotte?”
“I’ll end up talking to Jagger. After this meeting, it will be made clear that she’s not going to be made a pawn in whatever game Diego is playing with the judge.” He pulled me into a sitting position, remaining between my legs.
“She won’t answer my calls.”
“That doesn’t mean there’s an issue. Let me handle it. You need to trust me.”
When I hesitated, he gripped my chin.
“You do trust me. Don’t you?”
“Of course I do. It’s Charlotte I don’t trust.”
Nodding, he backed away, fastening his belt. “Everything will work out. Relax until I return.”
I watched as he left the room and closed my eyes before jumping off the counter, jerking my panties from the floor. There was our fantasy. Then there was an uglier reality. I refused to allow Charlotte to be used.
As I grabbed the phone, hoping to see a text pop up and knowing I’d be sorely disappointed, I thought about the rules Jameson had issued the night before.
You will not leave the house unless I provide permission.
While you can return to work at the club, it will be in the position as my assistant.
You will obey my commands without question, or you will be punished.
There’d been others, all of which didn’t seem obtrusive on the surface until today. I couldn’t sit around waiting for him to return, hoping he’d had information on Charlotte. I dialed her number again, this time prepared to leave a terse message.
Her cheeky message was quickly followed by a beep. “Charlotte. You will call me. I’m sick to death of the silent treatment. I was trying to protect you whether you like it or not. If you don’t call me in ten minutes, I’m coming to find you.” I tossed the phone on the counter, struggling into my panties as I waited.
Ten minutes went by in a blip. No return call. No text. Nothing.
That’s the moment I knew I would disappoint Jameson again.
I planned on finding her myself, one way or another.
CHAPTER22
Jameson
Someone I no longer cared to remember had once called me a consummate actor. I’d taken it as a compliment but I doubted the pompous son of a bitch director who’d ‘graced’ my club with his appearance had offered it up as one. He’d laughed in my face afterwards, calling me a fake in the world of BDSM.
Granted, that had been six months after opening my doors, my mind still trying to wrap around the fact I owned a kink club. I’d never been a prude by any means, even with my typical middle-class upbringing; however, trying to explain to my mother what I did for a living in layman’s terms had proven to be a nightmare.
Lachlan had known what amenities should be offered, his experience surpassing both myself and Grant’s limited exposure. At first, I’d spent hours on the internet trying to learn the language and aspects of our offerings. Only after a few months had I ventured out to a rival club, taking a few classes and indulging in fantasies I’d tried my best to drive away.
Now I was considered a master dom, a colloquialism in the industry. Did I actually believe I’d mastered any technique? It wasn’t possible given I’d enjoyed little since Pamela’s departure. As I exited from my vehicle, adjusting my sunglasses given the cloudless day, my thoughts drifted to Alexandra. At this point, what we’d shared couldn’t be considered a traditional dom-sub relationship by any means. She was far too fiery to tame her in a week. The fact she remained purposefully disobedient would need to be dealt with, but not until after the ridiculous threats had been removed.
I still wasn’t certain what Garber had wanted to accomplish other than ruining me. Both he and Collins were up to something else. I felt it in my bones. As my father had told me more than once, the most effective way of bringing rats to the surface for elimination was to provide them with something they craved.
Or feared.
Perhaps today was a little of both.
I hadn’t brought a weapon, although I owned several. I wasn’t planning on threatening the judge with bodily harm to himself or his family. I wasn’t a member of the cartel or some low-life mafia organization who was allowed to get away with killing indiscriminately. Had I crossed the line a few times of right versus wrong? Yes. Of that there was no doubt, and I would do so again, but there came a point when pushing an agenda for political or financial gain had to be stopped.
That was my intention today.
