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“Oh, okay,” I said, nodding. “Makes sense.”
“Does it?”
“Well, yeah. A BDSM club makes much more sense than a whole club full of grown men running a club for little kids or something. I mean, the cops would probably close that down, right?”
“That’s…it’s…no children of any kind are involved.”
“Right.”
“It has nothing to do with children.”
“Exactly.”
He gave me an odd look and pulled out a card from the breast pocket of his suit.
“Look, my name is Jared Spencer. Do you think it might be possible to open your door and take this present? I can assure you I only want to drop it off and go.”
“Huh? Yeah, sure. Sorry. Um, come on in if you’d like to, sir.”
I wasn’t sure why I tacked that sir onto the end, except he looked like a boss or a supervisor or someone really important and definitely way out of my league. And he gave off a Dom vibe. Not that I knew what that was exactly, but I had an idea from watching that movie with Jamie Dornan, so, of course, he would probably be a Dominant. He did say he was the owner of the club. I had clicked around on that club website, just out of curiosity, and from what I could tell online, it was expensive, and high-class and very BDSM-y, much like this guy at my door.
“Please come in,” I said again, stepping back. He looked past me into the dark apartment and frowned.
“Oh, sorry about the, uh… my power was cut off.” I shrugged at the look of dismay on his face. “It’s a long story. I was just building a fire in the fireplace, but I’m having trouble getting it lit. I don’t suppose you know how to do it, do you? I wouldn’t ask except it’s supposed to get really cold tonight. If-if you could possibly help me out, I’d really appreciate it. My boyfriend Kyle used to build them for me, but he left a while ago.”
He looked at me with a pained expression on his face. I think he was going to say no, but then he seemed to be thinking about it and took another glance down at my bare feet, which, after standing at the door for so long, were turning a distinct shade of blue. He brushed past me kind of rude-like, and then just stood there, so I switched on my cell phone light again to show him where the fireplace was. Kneeling beside it, he stopped and glanced up at me.
"Wait. This is a gas fireplace. Why do you have this wood in here?”
"Um...do what?"
He glanced at me in surprise. "You have gas logs. Right here in your fireplace. Have you never used this fireplace before?”
"No," I said, feeling dumb. "I tried once, but I couldn’t do it, so I got the man I was living with to do it for me. I didn’t watch him though. I just assumed."
He gave me that incredulous look again—all the way up and then back down. The one that said he thought I might be certifiable. Then he looked down at my feet again and frowned.
“You should go put some shoes on before you catch cold. Your feet are turning blue.”
Damn—bossy much? He’d said I “should” go but make no mistake, that had been an order. It sent a little shudder through me, and I kind of blinked at him and thought briefly of making a smart remark, but then he turned that demanding gaze back on me, like he was daring me to disagree, and I wiped my face of all expression. A chill ran down my spine.
“Well? What are you waiting for?”
“N-nothing, sir. Sorry.” I went over to the couch to find the shoes I’d kicked off on the floor before I’d fallen asleep and pulled them on. He watched me and frowned again. “Where are your socks?”
“Oh, “I grinned sheepishly and shrugged. “I don’t have any clean ones.”
He shook his head. “Of course, you don’t.”
After a moment, he shivered. “You can’t seriously be thinking of staying here as cold as it is. It’s supposed to snow later tonight. I don’t think the gas is working.”
“No, that was cut off too.”
“So what was the plan? Were you planning on chopping up the furniture and building a fire here in the living room?”
“Um…I don’t think the landlord would like that much, so no. I have a fire pit on the deck, but I can’t go out there.”
“Dare I ask why?”
