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Kane wasn't his real name. Ari actually didn't know which of his friend's many names was his real name, but Kane was the first name Ari had known at the sex club where they'd first met and shared a girl. They'd grown close over the years to the point that Ari knew more about the guarded, secretive man than probably anyone else.
“What?” Ari answered on the fourth ring, not bothering with politeness.
“Are you still in bed?” Kane asked, sounding disapproving. “It's almost ten a.m. for fuck's sake.”
“What are you, my mother now?”
“It's been two weeks since she left. You don't need her. She was a brat, anyway.”
Ari chuckled at Kane's echo of his own thoughts. If there was one thing the two men had in common, it was a disdain for brats. And yet, he'd still let Holly in—into his bed and into his heart. He hadn't been satisfied by the arrangement so he wasn't sure why he was so unhappy now that it was over. It had been familiar—comforting at the same time it was disappointing.
“I could send Saskia over. She'd be happy to please you. Take the edge off? My slut is your slut,” Kane said.
It had started as a joke that first night. Kane had been playing with some girl at the club. He had her all tied up spread-eagled to a St. Andrew's Cross, and that girl was the most interesting thing going on that night. Ari had been bored and asked if he could join in.
Kane's response? My slut is your slut. It had become the foundational statement binding their friendship together.
Ari sighed. “Thanks, but I'm not in the mood. I don't want to take my shit out on her.”
He could practically hear Kane nod over the phone. There was a long pause.
“You know I have connections. I could get you someone who isn't a brat and would never defy you.”
“We've talked about this. You know that's not my style.”
Kane sighed. “If you change your mind, let me know. And don't hide away too long, we miss you at the club.”
“Yeah,” was all Ari said before the call disconnected.
He sighed and got out of bed. The guest room was a sleek minimalist design where the most overpowering color was only light gray. He stared out the window at the vast stretch of property that rolled out from his house like a giant green wave. Trees dotted the far end near the security wall. Usually he liked the wide open space, but today it felt lonely.
He shook that maudlin thought from his mind and went to the kitchen to brew a pot of strong coffee. Kane was right. He had to move past this shit. Ari stared out the window of the quiet room, only a ticking wall clock breaking the stillness. It was so quiet without her.
Inside the stillness, in between the ticks of the clock, Kane's offer hung on the air. It was such a tempting offer. He wished like hell he was the ruthless kind of man who could take it without a trace of guilt or remorse.
Kane knew a guy named Lindsay who was part owner in what was tactfully referred to as the Pleasure House. The women went there willingly. They all had very deeply hardwired submissive needs. But it wasn't a game. They didn't have a safeword. Once they signed on, there was no out. It was like some kind of kinky mafia.
They were trained and sold to the highest bidder. The buyers had to pass a long string of tests and background checks. It might not be as bad as just kidnapping some random woman off the street, but it was still illegal as hell. There was no out for the buyers either. You didn't risk the house. Ever. Any buyer who risked the house by talking or letting a girl go so she was free to talk, made it onto the house enforcer's hit list.
Ari knew Kane wasn't supposed to even be talking to him about it. As far as Ari knew, he hadn't been approved for that kind of security clearance.
As much as the fantasy of truly owning someone appealed, he wasn't the type of man who could irrevocably slam the door shut on a woman's possibility of freedom, all to fulfill some kinky wet dream—even if she thought she was willing. If she later became unwilling, he wouldn't be able to let her go. And that thought bothered him more than all the time he'd wasted with a disobedient brat.
Ari drank down a cup of coffee, showered, and dressed to go into the city. He needed to get out of the house.
Claire had successfully madeit through her list of errands but it had taken longer than she'd anticipated. All she could think about was getting back to the safety of her apartment. That thick reinforced door. All her security. The gun hidden beneath her bed. Then she would finally be able to breathe freely again.
But god, she was hungry. She'd been out for hours, and the last thing she wanted was the same boring food that she always made at her apartment. She needed something... different. Just this once.
It was daylight, she told herself again. The city was bustling. She pressed a hand against her sunglasses as if to prove to herself they were still there acting as a buffer between her and the world. The hood of her hoodie was still up. She probably looked like a terrorist and more conspicuous than she would like. She might blend in better if she dressed like everyone else around her.
He probably wouldn't even remember what she looked like after all this time. And why would he even care? The police hadn't come. He'd probably forgotten her. Moved on. He probably wasn't even still living near here. Wouldn't he have run away to avoid getting caught?
It's daylight. You can go buy a sandwich.Across the street from where she now stood was a new little bistro with an outside area she'd been dying to eat at. Was this her life now? So small and enclosed that she couldn't go buy a fucking sandwich? When was the last time she'd sat and eaten a meal prepared by someone else like a normal fucking person?
She took another deep breath and walked swiftly across the street. He wouldn't be there. He wasn't anywhere except in her nightmares. She could go inside and order a sandwich. She would take it and sit outside in the sunshine in the cool breezy day with red and gold leaves falling off the trees. She would breathe in the crisp air and eat calmly and rationally like a sane person.
A gust of too-cold air conditioning blasted her when she walked in the door. It wasn't hot enough out anymore for that to feel refreshing. Claire scanned her surroundings, knowing she was being irrational. There was no one waiting to jump out at her.
