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“Meeting with who?”
I heard voices and a loudspeaker in the background. Dev was doubtless striding through some foreign airport or train station, wheeling his luggage behind him. “You haven’t been to The Gallery in weeks now,” he said. “Don’t tell me you’re still fucking around with that quirky art manager person?”
“Quirky art manager person?”
“Saying she’s quirky is nicer than saying she’s weird. You said she was weird.”
“I said she was unconventional.” I leaned on the counter, guarding my words. “And yes, that’s who I’m meeting.”
“She’s bad news, man. She’s a glitter sub. How far could things go?”
“She’s not a glitter sub. She’s a masochist, Dev, the real deal. We’ve done a few sessions, and she gets off on it.”
“But…?” I could hear his impatience over the phone. “I hear a but in there.”
“It’s just…she’s not like the masochists I’m used to. When I hurt her…when she looks at me…”When she looks at me, her gaze pierces a little too deep.
Devin laughed. “If you don’t like how she looks at you, blindfold the girl. You’re in charge, man. Cover her eyes.”
“I can’t. I need to be able to read her. Blindfolds are prohibited at The Gallery for that reason.”
“Oh, God. You’re not thinking of bringing her to The Gallery?”
“Why shouldn’t I?”
He snorted. “There’s a big difference between sado-fucking a chick at your apartment and taking her to The Gallery. A world of difference. Not to mention the preparation, the paperwork and testing…”
“We’re kind of…fluid bonded already.”
This time his snort was more like a growl. “Shit. I’m hanging up. I’m done. No, wait. One last thought. Every time we talk about this girl, you sayshe’s this, she’s that, I just don’t know. Don’t bring her to The Gallery unless you know she can take it. None of us want the drama, Fort.”
“I’m as invested in The Gallery as you,” I replied, keeping my temper in check by thinking of Juliet and her tear-filled gaze. “I don’t want drama, either. I’ll prepare her beforehand, so don’t worry your pretty head about it.” I ignored his muffled curse and decided against a third cup of coffee. “Enjoy the Persian Kitty, Dev, and fly safe.”
Chapter Eighteen: Juliet
Iknocked onFort’s door at eight o’clock, and felt my usual jolt of attraction when he opened it.
“How many pairs of those socks do you own?” he asked, raking me from head to toe.
“This is the last pair you haven’t seen,” I said, doing a shimmy in my pale blue sheath dress. My socks were blue with silver bows. “I’ll have to start shopping for some more.”
“Mmm. Maybe I’ll shop for some too.” He pulled me into his apartment and planted a kiss on my lips. The lights were brighter than usual, or maybe it was darker outside. When he released me, his arm lingered on my back. “This is the time I usually ply you with alcohol, but I cooked food this time.”
“Yay, dinner.”
“It’s nothing special. Come sit down.”
He led me to his dining room, a formal set up with padded, upholstered chairs, a glittering chandelier, and, of course, a huge window-wall looking out on the world’s most spectacular view. There was a simple salad on the large, rectangular table, and a platter of baked fish in lemon sauce and capers. My mouth watered from the smell. He went to the kitchen and returned with a plate of roasted asparagus that looked magical.
“These are all my favorite foods,” I said. “How did you know?”
“It’s all about the asparagus. Fish and capers are a given.”
“The Mediterranean diet.” I slid into the chair he held out for me. It felt cushy and soft, at odds with his penthouse’s color scheme of bronze and gray. “How much does all this cost?” I murmured.
“What do you mean?” he asked, pouring me a glass of water from a crystal pitcher.
“Sorry. I’m being rude. It’s just…the penthouse, the furnishings, the view…” He didn’t answer as he sat beside me at the head of the table. “I mean, I live in a refurbished shipping container.”
