She’d been in love with her fiancé, or at least she thought she had been. In retrospect, she’d been thrilled with his attentions, enough that she’d ignored little things. The fact he was between jobs, and had been more than once. He’d always seemed to have some emergency. His car had broken down. Or he needed a new suit for a job interview. She’d paid his bills while telling herself that partners supported one another.
It shouldn’t have shocked her when he’d taken off with all her money.
She’d learnt her lessons well, and she’d never allowed Todd to get past her exterior walls. He’d been a nice enough guy. She probably could have trusted him but had chosen not to.
And now…Damien.
He made her question everything she knew—or thought she knew—about relationships, and worse, about herself. Being a Domme gave her a huge sexual kick. And her partners enjoyed it as much as she did. But for her, it was more about staying in control.
What she’d just experienced with Damien had demolished that.
She’d enjoyed letting him take the lead. She’d liked the hot orgasm. And the spanking had aroused her. Afterwards, as she’d snuggled into his arms, it had been as if the outside world no longer existed. Her fears and worries had vanished.
When she’d been younger, more idealistic, she’d thought that it was possible for a man and woman to become partners and support each other. She’d been a romantic, even though she’d seen her mother’s constant struggle for survival.
Tonight, he’d been supportive, wanting to know her inner thoughts and feelings. She’d glimpsed what it might be like to have someone to turn to. Part of her wanted to accept what he was offering.
She shook her head to clear it. Life had taught her to put away foolish, romantic notions. It might take all her resolve and determination, but she would do exactly that.
When she arrived at her cold, dark condominium, she sent a one-word text.
Safe.
She didn’t want to get into a discussion or explain anything else.
Hearing his voice would undo her.
He’d told her she would want more, that she’d wonder what she was missing. And she was terrified to the tips of her toes that he might be right.
It was better to keep distance between them. Lots of it. Lots and lots of it.
* * * *
Confounding, frustrating, annoying-as-hell woman.
Damien shoved away from his computer at the Den. Damn it. He’d looked half a dozen times but he hadn’t seen Catrina’s name on the weekend’s reservation list.
With a sigh, he strode to the window and stared at the expanse of pine trees and snow-covered ground.
It had been almost two weeks since she’d been to his house. As he’d requested, she had sent him a text that night, letting him know she’d made it home safe. Since then, he’d heard nothing from her.
He’d known the mini-scene had challenged her emotionally.
Fuck.
Who was he kidding? It had challenged him.
Her body language had indicated that she’d enjoyed what they’d done.
Perhaps a bit too sure of himself, he’d told her she’d want to explore further. But more, he’d hoped that they’d connected in a way she’d never imagined possible.
Their time together might have been short, but he’d held her. She’d told him about her fears and offered him a glimpse inside her carefully constructed defenses. There’d been no doubt she’d taken tentative steps toward trusting him.
She’d captivated him. He wanted the feeling to be mutual.
Because she’d let him in, he’d anticipated she might panic. He’d have been delighted, but surprised, if she had contacted him right away. He had expected her to take a couple of days to think things through, maybe as long as a week.
But this…? He was beginning to wonder if he’d misjudged the situation, and her.
“Boss?”
Damien looked over his shoulder. Gregorio stood in the doorway, scowling.
“I knocked twice,” Gregorio said.
Turning, Damien waved the other man in. “Is the reservations system working correctly?”
“As far as I’m aware,” Gregorio replied. “Are you having problems?”
Damien shook his head.
“Aha.”
“Aha, what?” Damien asked. He spread his legs and folded his arms across his chest, matching Gregorio’s stance.
“Things become clear.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“You drove up two weekends in a row. You’re hoping to see someone specific.”
“Don’t you have work to do?”
“No. Really. Everything’s set. I can listen to your woes for at least an hour.”
“Out.”
“You’ve got it bad.”
“Are you hoping to get fired?”
“This is serious,” Gregorio said. “If you’re talking about sacking me and taking care of all of this yourself, you’re not thinking straight. We need the good stuff.”
“I might beat your ass.”
“Would that help?”
Damien took a seat behind his desk. The two had been friends for years, and the question was sincere. Gregorio knew Damien’s moods as well as Damien did. And if Damien needed the release, no doubt Gregorio would expose his back.
Without an invitation or permission, Gregorio crossed to a sideboard and opened a door. He slid aside a supposed-to-be secret panel and removed a crystal decanter of brandy. Of course, in typical fashion, the man had gone straight for Damien’s private stash.
Gregorio removed the stopper then slowly poured a small amount into two separate snifters. He returned to slide one across the scarred desktop toward Damien.
“We’ve been through a lot,” Gregorio said, taking a seat. “Relationship breakups…”
Including Gregorio’s shocking divorce.
“Several new business ventures and one spectacular failure.”
He didn’t need reminding of that. Making the cover of a respected Wall Street newspaper because of a bankruptcy still gave him nightmares. No matter how many successes he’d had since, his portfolio had been tarnished.
“But I haven’t seen you like this before.”
“Like what?”
“Smitten,” he clarified.
“Men don’t get
smitten
.”
“Fair enough. Obsessed. Mistress Catrina?”
“How—?”
“My brilliant deductive reasoning skills.” Gregorio crossed his long legs. He grinned. “Susan was here last week with a new guy. You were cordial to them both. To my knowledge, you haven’t played with anyone other than Mistress Catrina recently.”
“No one should know about that.”
“It’s a small community, Boss. Someone saw you in the hallway with her. And the tension between the two of you when she left that night erased any doubt. And since she hasn’t been back, I can’t think of anyone else whose name you’d be looking for on the reservation system. Yep. There’s no one else you’d be smitten by, well, I mean if you were smitten—which you’re not—since men don’t get smitten.”
“Do you want to shut the fuck up now?”
“Oh, hell no. I’m just getting warmed up.”
Gregorio grinned, pissing Damien off even more.
Damien breathed out, forcing himself to relax.
Contemplatively, he held his glass in his palm, warming the brandy. The ritual itself helped settle him.
A minute later, he brought the snifter closer and swirled again, releasing more of the alcohol’s aroma. As always, he appreciated the sight of the liquid clinging mysteriously to the inside of the glass.
A few seconds later, he took a sip. The liquid gold tasted of smoke and fruit, and it warmed on its way down.
“Good idea?”
“Indeed.”
Gregorio took a small drink. He closed his eyes and sighed. “I don’t care what you say. This stuff can make anything better.”
“Especially when someone else pays for it,” Damien said wryly.
“Especially then,” Gregorio agreed.
Following Gregorio’s lead, Damien pushed away from the desk and relaxed against his chairback. He realized this was the first time in two weeks that he’d managed to release any tension without first spending an hour at the gym.
“So, you played with her outside of the Den.”
“Mind your own business.”
“More than once?”
“You know goddamn well I’m not going to answer that.”
“Have you called her? Or are you waiting for Mistress Catrina to fall under your spell? Wait. No. Holy shit…” Gregorio uncrossed his legs and leaned forward. “Unless you subbed for her.”
Over the top of the snifter, Damien regarded his second-in-command until the other man shrugged.
“Never mind that.” Undeterred, Gregorio continued, “She subbed for you, which meant something since she’s a Domme and sometimes shows up with multiple pets. And now you want her to become a sub for you. So, let me guess. You issued an ultimatum, you want her to do things on your terms. Ergo, you can’t give in and call her.”
“Ergo? No one really uses that word.”
“Never mind.” Gregorio nodded. “You have been waiting for her to come to you. Only she hasn’t. And that means this is a unique situation for you.” He took another drink then said, “How’d I do?”
“I’m relieved you’ll be able to get a job as a psychic advisor when I give you your walking papers.”
He expected Gregorio to be at least a little chastened.
Instead, the man all but crowed. “I did that well?”
“It’s time for you to get back to work,” Damien said.
Gregorio grinned and raised his empty glass in a silent toast before leaving the office and closing the door behind him.
Contemplatively, Damien ignored all the screens demanding his attention, and instead, stared out of the window.
With the frost on the trees, it looked fucking cold. And since the atmosphere was so dry, he doubted it would snow. Now, knowing Catrina wasn’t planning to attend, he wished he’d stayed home. He had no desire to interact with anyone. And if he remained in his suite, he knew he’d brood.
Another sip of the brandy warmed his insides. In selecting the beverage, Gregorio had made an excellent choice.
Right now, it annoyed the crap out of Damien that Gregorio was right about so many things.
After Damien had finished the drink, he forced himself to go through Gregorio’s plans and projected revenues for the upcoming month. Master Niles’ former production company was requesting to expand their usage of the Den’s facilities. And Gregorio had proposed buying an adjacent lot so the facilities could add onsite lodging to the five-year plan. Or at least a stable for pony play. Damien wasn’t sure if Gregorio was serious about that one, or whether he’d snuck it in to see if Damien was paying attention.
An hour later, music blared, all but shaking the empty snifter still on his desk. Tonight’s theme was retro-dance party. He couldn’t wait to see what attendees came up with. Teased hair and leg-warmers? No doubt some would celebrate with high-protocol standards they no longer observed.
He hadn’t anticipated, though, that Gregorio would hang a disco ball from the living room’s vaulted ceiling. Or that Master Evan C’s magenta scarf would look strangely appropriate for the party.
Damien realized he should have stayed in Denver.
He endured the evening, and it had been good to see Master Marcus with Julia on the end of a leash. She’d likely earned a beating for the way she’d wiggled her ass at Gregorio. At the very least, Master Marcus had compelled her to help serve the cupcakes, topped with neon pink or orange frosting.
* * * *
At five o’clock the next afternoon, he again checked the reservations list. Because snow hadn’t fallen, at least ten more people had signed up. Catrina was not among them.
Two hours later, Damien had watched all the television he could tolerate. He’d finished his work and cleaned out his email inbox. Despite a shower, he was unable to settle in with a true-life crime story that had, until recently, engrossed him.
Restlessness churned at him. He tossed aside the book and strode to the closet. Telling himself he might as well be useful and meet with some of the potential new members—anything was better than dwelling on Catrina—he dressed in business attire and strolled downstairs.
After last night’s craziness, bright colors, thundering noise, outrageous outfits and big hair, this event was subdued. Gregorio had put together an elegant mixer. Low-key jazz oozed from the sound system. No one had to shout over the band to be heard. Wait staff moved throughout the area with fruity, non-alcoholic beverages and canapés made from ingredients he would never touch but pretended to like.
He chatted with a few people in the living room, answered a number of questions about membership and various activities and gave one Dom some tips on dealing with a beautiful but very saucy sub.
Then, seeing Gregorio was occupied in the kitchen with the caterer, Damien excused himself. He went downstairs to check on the play area. The Den employed a number of House Monitors, men and women who knew the rules and enforced them to keep everyone safe. Regardless, Gregorio and Damien tried to make themselves as visible and available as possible.
He wandered down the hallway, looking in on all the private rooms, checking in on the participants. It had been a long time, years even, since he’d availed himself of the Den’s facilities for a personal scene.
Until now, he hadn’t missed it.
But at this moment, the idea of having a woman spread before him in beautifully bound supplication, helpless and writhing in expectation…
Damien inhaled sharply.
Maybe he should seek out one of the house subs to slake his sudden need.
In the open area, some couples sat at tables. A small group of Doms stood in a circle. One put his booted foot on his kneeling sub’s shoulder. Looked uncomfortable for both of them.
Another’s sub was seated cross-legged on the floor.
The final gentleman was alone.
After nodding toward the group, he crossed to the bar for a glass of sparkling water.
That’s when he saw her.
Catrina was alone, seated at a high-topped table, swirling a straw in her drink.
He froze.
“May I get you anything, Master Damien?” a house sub enquired.
“No. Thank you, Mary.”
She was a relatively new employee, having been hired to replace Brandy, whom Master Niles had stolen away and never returned. Even though Mary was tall, willowy, available and agreeable, the idea of taking care of his needs with anyone other than Catrina vanished. Truth was, even if she hadn’t shown up, he wouldn’t have beat another sub. No one but her would do for him.