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“Don’t care.” I hang up on him before he can start asking questions I’m not sure I know how to answer. Why does it matter so goddamn much that she’s in the club? Why do I care what she does?
Because she’s mine.
She was mine the minute I set eyes on her.
I tried to do the right thing today. I tried to walk away. But the goddamn universe has been throwing her into my path like a sign from on high, demanding I get my head out of the sand and wake the fuck up. I fuckingcan’twalk away when all roads lead back to her.
Maybe she isn’t ready for any of the shit I want. But I’ll get her ready. She was made to submit. I learned that much about her today. She obeys like she was born to do it, without hesitation. And she clearly fucking needs someone looking out for her little ass if this is the kind of shit that happens when she’s left to her own devices.
Why can’t it be me? Why shouldn’t it be me? She’s the first woman I’ve met in… fucking forever, honestly… to make me even consider giving in to my vices. She’s the first one who has ever sat in my chair to make my dick throb. And she’s certainly the first one who had me looking for a reason to call her all damn day.
She’s mine. As soon as I get her little ass out of the club, she’s going to find out just what that means.
* * *
By the timeI make it across town, the club is packed. Bronx meets me at the door, grim-faced and stoic. He and Coby share the same hard blue eyes and love of ink, but that’s about as far as the similarities go. Bronx is a bald, crabby bastard.
There’s a reason Roman Sterling hired him for security, and it wasn’t his winning personality. He takes no shit from anyone and will tell you exactly what he thinks, whether you want to hear it or not. He also isn’t afraid to throw someone out on their ass if they need it, regardless of the size of their bank account. Nothing, and no one, intimidates him.
“Where is she?” I ask.
“In one of the private rooms.” He scowls at me. “You could have warned a motherfucker that she’s carrying a fucking Taser.”
My brows rise, surprise flowing through me… though I’m not entirely sure why. Skye may be innocent, but she’s not delicate. “She tried to tase you?”
“Tried?” Bronx glowers at me. “She nailed me right in the fucking thigh with the goddamn thing. I locked her ass in a private room and left her there to cool off. You can deal with her. I’m not stupid enough to try that bullshit again.”
“Try what, exactly?” I growl, already pissed that she’s here. If he tried to put his hands on her, he and I are going to have a problem. I don’t give a shit if we are friends.
“Jesus H. Christ.” He glowers at me. “I didn’t fucking touch her. I tried to convince her to come and wait with me. She thought I was trying to kidnap her or some shit. I don’t fucking know. She’s upstairs. Third room on the left.” He fishes in his pocket before holding a key out to me. “Good fucking luck.”
I take the key and head inside. The Sterling Rope is an upscale BDSM club that caters to billionaires, millionaires, and those with money to burn. Everything inside is sleek, elegant, and expensive as fuck.
The public rooms–bars where people can chat and get to know one another before moving onto the kinkier portions of the night–are mostly deserted at this hour. There are a few people who have come out to take a breather, as well as a few stragglers who haven’t found what they’re looking for within. Everyone else is in the club proper, doing what they do best here.
I bypass as many of the exhibition rooms as I can. I didn’t come to watch people fuck. I’m not interested in being propositioned. My membership here is current only because it’s popular amongst our clients and I’m an investor in the club. Sometimes, a motherfucker has to see and be seen. On those occasions, I rarely ever stray beyond the bar.
What’s the fucking point when I know I’ll just leave unsatisfied? It’s been the same story for years. I’m not entirely sure what I want even fucking exists. At least, I wasn’t until today. Until Skye smiled up at me.
She’s making me question things I’ve never questioned before now. All this time, I’ve told myself no one interested me because I didn’t trust any of them. But those big blue eyes have me wondering if maybe I just told myself that because they weren’t what I really wanted. Permanence. Belonging. Companionship. The same special something that Bella and Cormac have.
I don’t even fucking know anymore.
I jog up the stairs, keeping tight to the wall to avoid brushing up against anyone. The last thing I want is someone thinking I’m after something I’m not. I land at the top to find the monitor engaged in conversation with a naked couple at the far end of the long hall.
I quickly make my way to the door Bronx indicated. I start to use the key, remember his complaints about her having a Taser, and quickly decide against it. If she tases my ass, I’m going to be pissed about it.
“Skye?” I rap my knuckles against the door. “It’s me. Let me in.”
She’s quiet for a moment, and then, “Slade?”
“Yeah, baby. It’s me.”
“If it’s really you, tell me something only you would know.”
I smile, amused at the suspicion in her voice. I try to think of something only I would know. “You came into the shop wanting a tattoo of the Wickersham Brothers today.”
“The other guy at the shop knows that, too,” she reminds me.
