Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 149137 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 746(@200wpm)___ 597(@250wpm)___ 497(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 149137 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 746(@200wpm)___ 597(@250wpm)___ 497(@300wpm)
Josh took the contract that would delineate every aspect of his relationship with the woman he would hire in the next few days. Even holding it in his hands made something in his chest ease. This was going to be a good thing. He would start this relationship with all the cards on the table because the contract between them would be a solid thing. The woman he hired would know everything that was expected of her.
The woman who would live in his home and meet his needs.
Fuck. It really had been too long since he’d fed this part of his soul. He was practically shaking at the thought, and that wouldn’t do. He needed to be cool and calm. He needed to keep his distance.
He was the Dom. He was in control, and that was the way it was going to stay.
Chapter Two
Kayla stepped into the cool environs of the club. It was nothing less than stepping from sunlight into shadows, and she rather thought that was part of the theater of the place. Most clubs ran on drama—from the architecture and decorations of each room to the emotion of the scenes that played out. And then, of course, there was the pure human element to it. The Reef would have its share of gossip and it would run on its own rules.
The Reef wasn’t The Garden. It wasn’t Sanctum, either. It was much more like the dance clubs she’d been to in her younger days. Industrial. Dark. Moody and broody, as she would call it.
It was kind of awesome.
Not that she didn’t love The Garden and Sanctum, but there was something raw about The Reef that called to her. There was a devil’s head over the comfortable couches that marked the lounge area. The walls had been painted scarlet red and the darkest black, the floor left in its industrial concrete phase. Rock ‘n’ roll. It looked like a place where an old-school metal band would hang out.
And this was the place where she would play for the next few months.
She’d left Ezra and Levi behind at the apartment that would serve as their base of operations in West Hollywood. She wasn’t sure if it was Ezra’s or the Agency’s, but it was in a nice neighborhood with a dog park across the street. Clean and well kept, it reminded her of the home she’d grown up in, and she’d had to force a well of emotion back down. The only thing it had been missing was two men who slept together, an overactive poodle, and the sound of the ocean.
It was good to be here, good to remind herself that this was an op and nothing more. This club was the last thing that would remind her of her dads.
A couple of guys were hanging out in the big open-space lobby she’d walked into. They were lounging on comfy couches and shooting the shit. One of the men had a length of rope in his hand, working the knots as he talked about the Dodgers.
A man with a neatly kept goatee looked up and sighed. “You here for the position?”
All eyes were on her and it was obvious a couple of these guys did not approve. She didn’t take it personally. After all, most of these men took D/s seriously, and they would likely view their actor counterpart attempting to buy a sub as a little out of the ordinary. Or they would view any woman who would sell herself that way as someone to watch. It didn’t matter what they thought in the end.
She gave them a brilliant smile, but also lowered her head slightly to show respect. After all, she was a guest in their club. She wasn’t going to breeze through like she owned the place.
Years she’d spent perfecting this particular character. “Yes, Sir. My name is Kayla Summers. I’m here for a three o’clock appointment.”
“At least one of them knows how to behave,” someone grumbled.
That’s what she’d been counting on. It had been practically inevitable that some of her competition would overstate their lifestyle experience in order to win a job like this. They would come through thinking showy confidence would get them ahead. Maybe, had this been for a corporate job, but it wouldn’t work with these men.
“Thank you, Sir. You have a lovely club,” she said with a smile.
The big Dom in front of her held out a hand. “I’m what you would call the coordinator of this club. If there’s ever any real boss in a place like this. I was voted in because I was dumb enough to say yes. Angelo DeMaris. It’s nice to meet you.”
“I don’t know the complete rules of your club, Sir.” Some clubs would have every sub call the men or women with Master rights Master. Some had more lax rules. It was important to honor them. She held out her hand, allowing him to take it. There was no shake. He merely put both large hands over her small one and then the contact was over.