Lyon on a Leash (22 page)

“I have to contact Ahmed and Renita when I get back home. They want me to do a private session for them.”

“I didn’t know they were in the lifestyle,” Vera said, taking a bite of her quiche. It was one of her favorite dishes. Marcus had made some serious brownie points with this.

“That’s because you’re not involved with the community here. Then again, you were never really in the lifestyle. You worked it, but….” She looked at Vera.

Vera wiped her mouth, thinking some of the crust was on her face. “What?”

“How much about the lifestyle do you think you know?”

Vera coughed and looked at her mentor. Was she serious? “I think I know quite a bit. You trained me.”

“Right, I trained you to Top professionally. But being a pro-Domme doesn’t necessarily mean you know much about the lifestyle. BDSM is a huge umbrella with lots of shades and shadows.” She leaned on her fist and gazed at Vera. “Now that I think about it, you’ve never gone to any classes, had any additional training other than what I gave you. And I only trained you in the business side.”

Conflicted, Vera waited to hear where all this was going. Marguerite could be pushy, even stretch the truth if it suited her, but normally it was for a particular goal. Vera had no interest in going to munches—the BDSM version of small get-togethers. In her current profession, she required a certain amount of anonymity. The local dungeon was out, and private play parties were just that, private. Marguerite had her best interests at heart but sometimes she pushed buttons that should be left alone.

“I had some training after the auction,” she said.

Marguerite nodded. “That’s true and Madame is pretty good. But don’t you think you need to get more involved? I could talk to Ahmed. Maybe you and Marcus could attend one of their parties. That way you’d meet people you have things in common with. They aren’t into drama and have been into this a while.”

“Renita was cool and Marcus and Ahmed got along,” she murmured, wondering what Marguerite was getting at. “You think I need to hang with more people, is that it?”

Marguerite nodded and pushed back her plate. She looked at James and Reeves as she stood. “Pack our things. We’ll be leaving when I get back.” Both men nodded.

Vera glanced at them and then up at Marguerite.

“Let’s go for a walk.” The older woman headed toward the door. Vera smothered a groan and stood.

Marcus entered the dining room and began clearing the table. She looked at his clean-shaven face and realized she missed him too much to allow this to go on much longer. Tossing her napkin on the table, she followed Marguerite.

When they cleared the driveway, Vera threaded her arm in Marguerite’s. After a few minutes of strolling down her block, Marguerite spoke. “I want you to know I’m proud of you.”

Of all the things Vera imagined this impromptu conversation would entail, that had never crossed her mind. Nevertheless, warmth filled her at her mentor’s words. Marguerite’s opinion mattered to her.

“Thanks. That means a lot.”

“You have him following protocols every day?”

Vera nodded. “Yes. He follows a schedule. On certain days he does special things like the yard, or cleans the pool or grocery shops. He starts every day with exercise, has a certain time frame to complete chores and to work his business. He has to meet me at the door with a spritzer and be prepared to take care of me in whatever way I need at that time.”

Marguerite nodded. “Do you keep him dressed like he was dressed this morning? He looked good.”

Vera agreed. He did look good. “No. That’s because of company. I like him with less.”

Marguerite patted her hand and they walked a little farther in silence. “I don’t trust Brinks or his wife. No woman is that blind. She saw how hard he watched you last night and she didn’t stop him. That’s why I want you to meet and become friends with some power players in this city.”

Vera nodded as understanding dawned. “That’s why you invited Ahmed and Renita.”

“That’s the reason I came to Atlanta. You’re my kid, and I don’t like the game he’s playing. I like your lion. I don’t want him to go to jail for fucking Brinks up.”

“Me neither,” Vera said in a soft tone.

“But you do realize he will take it to Brinks’ ass, don’t you? Just as James will hurt anyone who tries to harm me, Marcus will do the same. I don’t want him to become somebody’s bitch in prison, so try to keep him and Brinks apart.”

Thinking of how Marcus had baited Brinks last night with all the touches and kisses, she nodded. Brinks had looked as though he would explode.

“So what do you want me to do with Renita? Hang out? What?”

“I want you to befriend people whose words have some damn weight. I want Brinks to think twice before he does something stupid, like try to blackball you. He should never have been able to block you from leaving the last time.” She huffed. “Bastard.”

Vera swallowed hard. She hadn’t known Marguerite knew about that.

Not knowing what to say, Vera nodded. An angry Marguerite was not someone you crossed. When she was in mama-bear mode, the best thing to do was duck, or run and hide.

They turned the corner, heading back to her house.

“Listen, I want you to lay low for a while. I hadn’t heard they were swingers or in the lifestyle, so I don’t understand. And what I don’t understand, I don’t trust.”

“Okay.” It would be hard to avoid Brinks, since he made it his business to sniff her out at least twice a day. Instead of having Marcus meet her for lunch in her office, they could meet downstairs or she could meet him somewhere. “How long is the protocol in effect?”

Vera hadn’t really decided. “A couple of days.”

Marguerite nodded. “That’s good. He’s a touchy-feely person. I’m sure he would have preferred anything other than that.”

Vera shrugged, although she agreed. But she was suffering and that’s why the punishment would be cut short. She had missed Marcus in bed last night.

Vera logged into her computer at work and checked her e-mail. There was a message from Marcus.

She smiled.

The level one protocol lasted forty-eight hours and both of them had been glad when it was over. They’d been embroiled in make-up sex for the next three days. Her body tingled in remembrance of his mouth, hands, and cock against her flesh. That had been two weeks ago and things between them were going well.

She’d hired an editor for her manuscript, who’d told her the same things Marcus had. It was time to face a few facts. Fiction writing was harder than she’d originally thought. Not that she planned to give up her dream. It meant too much to her. She stepped back and hit the basics.

Two nights a week she took an online writing class and made great strides transferring stories from her mind onto paper. Marcus had bugged her until she allowed him to read some of her writing from her class. He was always honest, even though sometimes it pissed her off. But she could count on him to give it to her straight. The night he praised some of her work, she cried.

Opening his missive, she read a bit and frowned. A few seconds later, a vein pulsed in her forehead as she grabbed her phone and made a call. “What the hell is this?” she snapped.

“The e-mail?” Marcus asked in a voice way too composed for her liking.

“Is this the woman who’d been your Mistress? What the hell is she asking you for money for? How does she have your e-mail anyway?” Jaw clenched, Vera closed her eyes in an attempt to calm down. But the thought of the woman from his past, or any woman if she were honest, contacting him and then asking for him to give her something, pissed her off.

“She emailed my business account. Everything about her situation is in that e-mail. I don’t know anything more about it than that. This is the first time I’ve heard from her in over a year.”

Vera waved her hand. “You told me that. I don’t like her contacting you, asking for money. Wanting to see you again. What the hell is that? Doesn’t she know you’ve moved on?”

“I haven’t talked to—”

“I know,” Vera snapped. “So she doesn’t know.” She exhaled. “Do you want to tell her you’re unavailable and not to contact you directly? Or do you want me to contact her?” Even though she gave him a choice, she knew she would be the one making contact.

“I’m yours, Mistress. However you want it handled is the way it’ll be done.”

Good answer
. “I’ll take care of it.” She disconnected the call and cracked her knuckles while reading the e-mail again.

She penned a reply informing the woman Marcus was her submissive, and any further communication would need to come through her. And no, Marcus would not be sending her any money. As she re-read her response, there was a knock on her door. Glancing up, she saw Brinks through the thick sidelight glass.

She groaned. He’d backed off since the fund-raiser. It had been great working Brinks-free for a while.

He opened the door. “Got a minute?”

“Not really. I’m trying to finish this up and get it out.” She made a few changes and then glanced at him, sitting in the chair in front of her desk. “Why do you bother asking if I have time to talk when you never listen to what I have to say?” She didn’t bother hiding the aggravation in her voice.

Unrepentant, he grinned. “Mama taught me manners, said I should always ask.”

“Um hmm. Maybe I should ask her to teach you how to wait for a response.”

“I’ve been doing that for months, or haven’t you noticed?”

Vera pressed Send and exhaled.
Not this again
.

He licked his lips and grinned at her as though he had scored a point or something.

Vera eyed him.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure. You can ask me anything. Not promising I’ll answer, but you can ask.” He winked.

Inhaling, she refrained from telling him what she thought of his wink and constant licking of his lips. “Why are you flirting with me? I’m living with a man and happier than I’ve been in years. I’ve told you numerous times I’m not interested. I’ve said it in three different languages, I’ve avoided you, I’ve asked you to leave me alone, and nothing has worked. Why is that?”

His brow furrowed as he looked at her. “Well, when you put it out there like that, I guess it does sound extreme.”

“Stalker-ish,” she deadpanned.

He glared at her. “Not even. I just want you to be sure, that’s all. I think we can have something pretty good.” His gaze flitted around her office.

“I’m sure. I don’t want to be involved with you.” She stared into his eyes so he would see her sincerity.

“It’s because I’m married?”

You think
? “We went over that already. I’m just not attracted to you.”
I can’t stand you, actually, but you’re my boss and until I find another job, I can’t tell you how I really feel
. The thought begged for release, but she bit it back and looked at him, trying to keep the distaste off her face.

He nodded although his jaw was clenched. “You said you’re happy. Did you mean that?”

“Yes,” she answered in a clipped tone. Would he leave already? It was becoming harder and harder to remember her manners.

“He’s not good enough for you.”

And you are
? “He’s my choice. That makes him good enough for me.”

He leaned forward, a gleam of malice in his eyes. She braced herself for his next remark.

“I think he’s one of those down-low guys.”

She stared for a moment and then laughed. The only down-low stuff Marcus did, was on her. Brinks had scraped the bottom of the barrel if that was all he could come up with. A thought occurred to her. “Wait a minute, is that what you’re into? You want a piece of my man?”

He stood so fast the chair fell behind him. “Hell no, are you crazy?” He looked toward the door and back at her. “I don’t do that shit.”

She looked at him a moment. His high-yellow complexion had turned red and she wasn’t sure it was from anger. Angling her head to the side, she leaned back in her chair. A smile inched up her face. Hell, Brinks probably
was
on the down low. Had he been using her and all the other women he chased as a beard to cover up what he was really into? She wondered if he was screwing with someone in the office. No, that would be too close. He wouldn’t risk it. Maybe….

“What are you thinking?” he growled, stepping closer to her desk.

She read the tension in the way he held himself. In the way he watched her. He was sweating. “I’m thinking you are a complicated man.”

He rubbed his neck. “No, I’m not. Just a man with needs.”

“Can I ask another question?”

“As long as it’s not about my sex life.”

“Oh…. Never mind.”

He glared at her. “It’s not what you think. I…I’m…”

“Okay. Whatever you say. ”

“I love my wife.”

“And you wanted to get busy with me, so you could what?…. Do other things?”

“No,” he snapped. “I think you’re beautiful, smart, and sexy. I love that red hair. I just want to hang out with you. We don’t have to do anything.”