Unraveled (Undone) (7 page)

Leo laughs. “God, this is fun when your own relatives aren’t involved.”

“Fuck you,” Michael says, his tone good-natured. He pinches me with no real force, his expression amused. “Behave.”

See, I’m already feeling better. That’s the one thing I’ve learned since I’ve been with Michael. To roll with my emotions, no matter how much they irritate me. Like all things in life, once you give up the struggle, things get a lot less complicated.

Ruby walks up to the table, looking vaguely uneasy. Chad is behind her. I smile and she gives me a halfhearted smile in return.

I’m not sure I made the right decision asking her to come. She seems out of sorts and unhappy.

Not at all like her normal funny, sarcastic self.

I need to get her alone to talk to her, to make sure she’s all right. I frown and say, “You want to go to the bathroom?”

I expect her to jump at the offer, but she shakes her head and says quietly, “I’m good.”

Jillian however, does bound up. “I’ll go.”

I give Michael a quick kiss and grab my bag. I look at Ruby. “Are you sure you don’t want to come with us?”

Her expression tightens and she glances away to the open space behind me. “Maybe later.”

I want to press, but turn to Michael. He gives me a smile. “We’ll take care of her.”

I shift my attention back to Ruby. But she’s not paying attention, her face is remote and unreadable, but I know something is bothering her.

All I can hope is that I didn’t make a mistake. And that, at some point, she’ll find the courage to talk to me.

Jillian

Layla and I hook arms and head off to the ladies’ room.

We are causing quite a stir and as we pass, I can’t help but notice the men turning to look at us, their gazes hungry. We really do look like an angel and a devil, only you know, slutty.

Brandon comes up behind us and puts his arms around our waists. “Come with me, you can use my private bathroom.”

I laugh up at him, and bat my lashes. “I feel so special.”

“That’s because you are special, baby doll.”

Brandon calls me baby doll and Layla darling girl.

In case you were keeping track.

He leads us into an office, befitting of the millionaire he is, with dark wood, and a huge desk that has to be an antique. Brandon pretends to be all modern, but I suspect he’s secretly a Renaissance man, in love with all things old and beautiful. I can relate.

I’m getting my master’s degree in fine art with an emphasis on that period, so I recognize the signs. When I’m through with school I’m going to become an art dealer, and have already started making contacts in the business. When Brandon was decorating the place I went with him to galleries all over the city and I couldn’t help but notice he was attracted to the classics. With an edge, of course.

Behind the desk is a huge oil painting we found on one of our trips by an obscure French artist. I gasp in pleasure when I see it, absolutely floored by its beauty. I forget the bathroom and run over to it and stroke my fingers over the intricate black-and-patina scrolled frame. “Wow. Brandon, the space is perfect, it’s even more spectacular than I remember.”

“It is. Thank you for convincing me it was exactly right,” Brandon says from behind me.

“Who’s the artist?” Layla asks.

“Gaston Lamar.” I stand back to marvel at the work in its entirety. It’s a nude, of a woman on a chaise, her lover in dark shadows. The only thing visible is his strong hand entwined over the delicate cords of her throat. She’s looking at him, her expression full of rapture and just a hint of fear. As soon as I saw the piece hanging there I’d known it was perfect. Not only did it have a distinct Dom/sub vibe, I wanted to sit there and stare at it for hours.

That’s how I always know a piece is good. When I don’t want to look away. When I want to get lost in its beauty. When I think about it throughout my day, longing to see it again.

“Why did you need convincing?” Layla asked, and I can hear the awe in her voice. “It’s stunning.”

Brandon chuckles and I finally tear myself away from the piece.

I roll my eyes at Layla. “He wanted vintage pornography.”

Layla raises a brow. “This is better.”

“Of course it is,” I say, flipping my hair.

Brandon shrugs one shoulder. “When I’m wrong, I’m wrong. I had a vision of what I wanted, but when it comes to art, Jillian is always right.”

I wag my finger at him. “And don’t you forget it.”

Brandon grins at me. “Baby doll, you did get paid.”

I did. Quite well. For the very first time I’d been paid for real art dealer work. When I got the check, I’d been like a little kid, dancing around the condo I share with Leo like a lunatic, screaming in delight while Leo grinned at me, completely amused by my antics.

I don’t believe in hiding my emotions.

Of course, I could have done something practical with the money, like invest it, but that’s not really my style. I have plenty of time to save, but this was special so I’d taken my fiancé away for a long weekend in Mexico and paid for the whole thing, much to Leo’s pretend griping.

I wink at Brandon. “I’m worth every penny.”

“That you are.” Brandon straightens and sighs. “I’ve got to get back to it, you girls be good in here.”

“We will,” Layla and I parroted at the same time.

He narrows his eyes. “I don’t trust you.”

Layla did her sweet, innocent act on him. “I’m always good.”

“Me too,” I say, mimicking her tone.

Brandon shakes his head. “You’re little deviants.”

We laugh and he takes his leave, closing the door behind us.

We take turns in the bathroom, but then instead of going back to the main bar we plop down on Brandon’s brown leather furniture. Furniture that’s clearly designed for fucking, with all its curved lines, and interesting angles. Layla points again to the picture. “You’ve really outdone yourself.”

“Isn’t it gorgeous? Is it wrong that I kind of want to steal it?”

Layla laughs. “I’ll help.”

We grin at each other, and then Layla glances toward the door and a cloud passes over her face. She clears her throat. “Do you think I was wrong to invite Ruby?”

I’ve always liked Layla’s best friend. Although the two women couldn’t be more opposite. Layla is stunning in a very classical way. The art masters would have had a field day with her. She’s also traditional. Ruby, on the other hand, is a gorgeous little rocker girl that, from what I understand from Layla, wants no part of mainstream life.

Whenever we’ve gone out as a group, it’s always been in regular circumstances, normal dinners, dancing, bar hopping and the like. Circumstances where Leo and Michael aren’t in your face about their dominant natures. This is the first time where all our depravity is right out there for the world to see.

Ruby is uncomfortable. That’s obvious. I hadn’t missed that she wanted to interrupt the interplay between Michael and Layla, or that she hadn’t liked what she’d witnessed. I saw Chad stop her. I understood she hadn’t realized what was really going on between them, but to me, it had seemed clear it hadn’t been bad.

I run my hand over the leather couch. “I don’t know. Why’d you bring her?”

Layla shakes her head, blowing out a breath. “I think she’s curious, more than curious actually.”

My eyes widen. That’s not a vibe I’d picked up on, but on the other hand, she’d agreed to come along. “Why do you think that?”

“The questions she asks. The way she watches Michael and Leo. Michael says she’ll need to figure it out on her own, and maybe I’m projecting. Assigning meaning when there isn’t one. I don’t know.”

I wrinkle my nose, remembering those first conversations with Leo about what he was, that now seem a lifetime ago. He’d told me I had to figure things out on my own. “Leo said something similar to me once, and it didn’t go over well. Sometimes you need a little more of a push. Have you tried talking to her?”

Layla nods. “Yeah, a couple times, but she insists she can’t imagine why I’d ever let a man do that to me. So there’s not much I can do.”

I use to think that. I shudder. Thinking of this morning, moaning and panting over Leo’s knee. I was wrong.

But that doesn’t mean that Ruby is wrong too. I narrow my eyes. “Why does it matter? Do you care if she’s into the same things you are?”

Layla shakes her head. “God no. Of course not. I never even told her about John and me, and never thought about it. We’d never even talked about it until Michael. But the more I open up, the more I explain, the more questions she asks. And right now, she just seems… unhappy. Distant.” Layla runs her hands through her hair. “Maybe I’m suffering from role reversal. I’m used to being the difficult, distant one while she’s trying to get me to talk. Maybe that’s all it is.”

“Maybe,” I say, before smiling. “But maybe not.”

Layla glances at the door, as though she’s afraid someone might come in, and then lowers her voice. “Sometimes I catch her watching Michael and me.” Layla bites her lower lip. “And, well, I think I see jealousy there.”

I can understand that. I can’t deny there is something about my brother and Layla. Something captivating. When they walk into a room, eyes linger on them. I smile. “When I was single, I would have been insanely jealous of you and Michael too.”

Layla shrugs. “I don’t want her jealous. I want her happy.”

“And you think some man dominating her will make her happy?”

“No, I’m not saying that.” She blows out a hard breath. “I just sense something.”

I raise a brow. “Is that why Chad’s here?”

Layla laughs. “No! Can you even imagine?”

“Nope.” I can’t. They are polar opposites. While Ruby looks like a renegade, there’s something almost restrained about her. In contrast, Chad looks all American and clean cut, but I’ve seen the guy work it, and he’s as dominant as they come.

Layla continues, “Chad’s here because he’s our friend, he’s part of our little group now. I’m not worried about him. He knows who he is. And, yes, his taste in women might be a little easy for him without the challenge I think he needs, but that’s his business. Ruby is mine.”

“I get it. If Gwen were unhappy, I’d want to help her too.” Gwen Johnson has been my best friend since we were a year old; there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for her. And I do mean anything. I’d move heaven and earth for her if it was in my power. “So what do you think we should do?”

“What can we do?” Layla holds up her hands as though in surrender.

I grin. “At bare minimum we can show her why you’d want a man controlling you.”

She grins back. “That’s true. We can show her that, at least until we go into our separate corners.”

“Exactly.” At the thought of tonight’s events I shiver with lust. I’ve already let the nerves slip away for the time being, because I’m beyond excited. And I trust Leo implicitly. He’s been whispering the most depraved things into my ear, sliding his fingers up my legs, commenting on how I’m such a little slut with my drenched thighs.

And it’s just making me hotter. Wetter.

Once I get to wherever he puts me, I’ll be nervous, but for now I’m just letting that fevered pitch take over. Because there’s nothing more I love than that place I go where all sanity shuts off and I’m riding on a wave of blissful, endless ecstasy.

“Perfect,” Layla says. A sly expression slides over her features and she glances toward the door before leaning forward on her chair. “I think we should have a little fun, don’t you?”

I giggle. I so love devious Layla. “Oh yes.”

“I don’t know about you, but I’ve been really put through the paces today.”

We don’t talk details, because of Michael and mine’s unfortunate sibling relationship, but Layla is the only submissive friend I have. And I know from talking to her, that I’m the same for her. She’s the only person who understands, that I can talk to about these things, and I’m so grateful to have her in my life. So I just try not to think too much about the fact that it’s my brother that’s the orchestrator of her madness.

“Me too.” I puff out my lip in a pout. “It’s really not fair.”