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Samantha ran up the stairs with Miley trailing behind her, grateful she had friends who were actually into fashion and helped her buy clothes and decide what to wear in different situations. The only place Miley felt confident about her fashion sense was in corsets and fet wear. She knew exactly what looked good on her, what she liked to wear, and what she was willing to wear.
As she climbed the stairs back to her bedroom, she couldn’t help but wonder again what Fitz was really up to and how much whatever it was would disrupt the moments of peace she was able to find. Miley sighed. Well, at least she didn’t have long to wait. She was to fly out tomorrow morning—first class—and meet Fitz and the client. Miley supposed she’d find out soon enough.
CHAPTER4
DAMON
Damon sat at his desk, staring blankly at the legal documents set out before him, wondering if it would be a bad thing to pour himself a single malt. Granted it wasn’t even ten o’clock in the morning, but as the song said, ‘it was five o’clock somewhere.’
He supposed he should have been thinking about what was in front of him, the repairs to The Carriage House, or even how to deal with Frannie, but he was hopeful Fitzwallace’s visit this morning would help with the latter. But none of those were what had him brooding, if he was going to admit he was brooding, which he wasn’t.
Instead, what occupied him was why he had deluded himself into thinking Frannie could fill the hole in his life. He’d truly believed she could provide him with endless sexual pleasure as well as giving him someone to truly care for and who would be his partner. Someone with whom he could share and build a life—someone with whom he could truly connect.
The other part of his brain kept revisiting the last time he’d been in London—the gorgeous red-headed sub with the luscious curves and strong will. He’d thought he’d gotten through to her, not all the way, but he’d planned to spend at least the rest of the night, if not the next several days pulling down her walls. He’d begun to believe that she was special, that he could get through to her and that she might—just might—be the answer to his dreams. But when he’d returned from the bath to take her down and persuade her he was right, she was gone. No amount of cajoling, threatening, or bribing had been able to pry any information out of anyone.
The light tapping on the door to his inner sanctum was followed swiftly by Georgina sticking her head inside. “Mr. Fitzwallace is here to see you, sir. He says you’re expecting him, but he isn’t on your schedule.”
“No, but I was expecting him. I should have told you, but I want any dealings with Fitz or anyone at Cerberus to be kept off the books.”
“I understand. Is this about Ms. Acosta?”
Very little slipped past Georgina. He’d said nothing to anyone about what had happened at the club and had managed to keep everything out of the papers; yet Georgina had known. She also knew who Fitzwallace and Cerberus were and what Fitzwallace’s presence meant.
He nodded. “Show him in.”
Damon stood and walked around the front of his desk, extending his hand to the head of Cerberus as he walked in. Despite their close and long friendship, neither man was given to hugging his friends. The handshake, however, was warm and oddly reassuring.
“It’s good to see you, Damon. I’m glad you called.”
“Fitz, thanks for coming,” Damon said as he directed Fitz to the seating area of his office. “I don’t think I realized until just now how much I wanted to see you here. I suppose the fact that I texted you even as the cops and the fire department were arriving says something about that.”
“I did some checking before I arrived. The fire department, as I’m sure you know, says it was arson. They were also very clear to state they do not believe you had anything to do with it, and that your quick thinking and excellent fire suppression system mitigated the damage. How much damage was there?”
“The fire itself was contained mostly to the foyer and reception area, but of course the smoke and water damage was considerably more.”
“Any idea who set it?” Fitz asked, eyeing Damon speculatively.
“Why do I think it is you have your own ideas about that?”
“Not so much an idea of who it was, though I could take a guess and probably be right, but more that you know more than you’re admitting to anyone, including the police and the fire department. It’s that crazy ex of yours, isn’t it?”
“I don’t know that I’d call Frannie ‘crazy,’” Damon hedged.
“Then what the bloody hell would you call someone who keyed your car, managed to get you on the no-fly list, slashed your tires, posted updates on your wedding plans after you canceled, got one of her father’s goons to pay you a visit… should I go on? And now, unless I am badly mistaken, she tried to outright kill you.”
“I don’t think that was her goal. I think Frannie wants me back—mostly because she can’t have me. She hated the club.”
“I thought that’s where you met her.”
“It is. Apparently, Frannie decided I was the man she wanted and found out about The Carriage House. She then made a study of the D/s lifestyle and portrayed herself as the perfect sub. Once she got what she wanted—me—everything changed. She hated the club and told me that ‘respectable people’ didn’t engage in that kind of behavior.” Damon took a deep breath and exhaled. “I’m grateful she revealed her true feelingsbeforewe got married. I don’t think I would have wanted to divorce Franco Acosta’s baby girl.”
“You don’t find her behavior just a tad bit stalkerish and crazy? More than that, what were you thinking getting involved with Acosta’s daughter?”
Damon chuckled. “I was thinking I couldsaveher from her batshit crazy, psycho-killer father. Now, I’m convinced it runs in the genes, and she’s just as nuts as he is.”
“So, I take it, it was Frannie,” Fitz pressed. Damon nodded. “Then we need to get you some protection.”
“Yeah, about that. I’m not sure why I texted you. I think I was just shaken…”
