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PROLOGUE
Alex
I discover justhow close I came to disaster when I see myself on the front page of the morning paper.
My good friend Rachel Clifford has been my ally ever since university, her ‘book club’ a cover, so I could ditch my security detail.
Damn, I wish Jane hadn’t been reassigned. She’d been the one bodyguard who didn’t judge. Who made sure I could be me. She was the only person I could trust, my only confidante within the royal organisation.
Last night, Karen, my new bodyguard took me to Rachel’s, thinking I was there for a book club meeting. Until she proves herself, and it’s not looking good— I won’t be letting her in on my secret.
As soon as Karen was settled in the car, I changed my clothes, grabbed my mask, and snuck out the kitchen door to the car I keep in Rachel’s old carriage house just off the back laneway.
I had an uneasy feeling before I’d even started the car, but I’d shoved it away. It was the first time in too long that I could let loose.
I return my attention to the paper. Fortunately, the photo was taken while I was still masked and mostly turned away from the camera. The focus of the image is on Michael Howard—better known as Uncle Tad from the long-running soap opera Bernwell Gardens—in all his leather-harnessed naked glory.
Cameras and phones are banned inside The Underground, but there’s no way to guarantee a camera-free zone.
Some kinksters choose to live dangerously and forego a mask entirely. Others remove their masks when playing privately.
I have never felt so freed by my paranoia as I do this morning.
I have also never felt the need to contact Winston Frobisher, fixer to the rich and aristocratic.
But I heard through the grapevine that he has access to a special app that matches up public figures with a kinky disposition.
Because no matter how much more rigorously they screen for cameras, I can’t risk going to The Underground again, even if I do stay fully masked. Just like my bad feeling last night—which I clearly should have paid attention to—I have a bad feeling they were looking to catch me out, specifically.
PROLOGUE
Alfred
“Hello, stranger,”I call from the window to my cousin Charlotte as she climbs out of her Land Rover. “I don’t often see you twice in one week.”
“I wanted to talk to you while Pippa isn’t around.”
“Okay. Come on in. I’ve just made a pot of tea.”
By the time Charlotte enters the kitchen, I’ve got a plate of biscuits laid out and two piping hot mugs of tea on the table.
She snags a biscuit as she sits down. “My favourite,” she says before taking a big bite.
“I know.” I keep them just for her. “What did you want to talk about?”
She finishes her mouthful and has a swig of tea. “Are you absolutely sure a pony is the right thing for Pippa right now?”
Ah.
“I’ve thought about it long and hard. Especially with every disappointment that comes along. But a pony for Pippa was a decision Laura and I made just before she died. If it was the right thing then, I think it’s even more the right thing now.”
“In that case, we carry on. Now, given there is no risk of wee ears hearing what they shouldn’t…” She takes another sip of her tea. “Have you dipped your toe back into the dating pool yet?” I try to glare at her, but that twinkle in her eye makes it impossible. She shrugs. “Okay, I get it. You’re not ready for a relationship, but it’s been over a year. It’s time to get yourself out there and at least let off some steam,” Charlotte admonishes.
She’s not wrong as far as letting off steam goes.
Things hadn’t been going well with Laura for quite some time, and truth be told, we’d be in the process of a divorce by now if she hadn’t died.
“Hel-lo!” I gesture to myself. “Single dad who’s been out of circulation for the better part of a decade here. I have no idea how I’m supposed to get myself a spur-of-the-moment kinky hookup these days.”
