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)
A sub walked up, tray in her hand. He couldn’t remember her name, only knew she was a fairly recent addition to the club. There was a collar around her throat, but no charm or mark of possession that told him who she belonged to. So she was working. “Can I get you anything, Sirs? Water or sodas? Or perhaps you would like a scene partner for the evening? I am available.”
He bet she was. “I’m taken for the evening, but thank you for the offer. This guy here has nothing to do. What do you say, Jared?”
Jared’s eyes widened in what could only be described as pure horror as he took in the petite blonde with her perfect tits and an ass to die for. Yeah, he was totally ready to go girl fishing. He was looking at the sub like she was a snake about to bite.
“Christine, I think Master Jared would prefer to be alone for a bit,” a deep voice said.
He turned and a large man stood to the side, his leathers clinging to muscled hips. He had on a leather vest and a frown that would have sent any sub scampering off.
“Yes, Master Riley.” And Christine did exactly that. She practically ran back to the break room, her heels click clacking across the floor.
Master Riley. The new Dom in Residence. He was basically The Reef’s hired gun. He was the one who would vet new members, open and close the club, oversee the subs who worked here, and generally keep everyone in line. He’d been hired by the board. Normally Josh would have had a vote, but he’d been on set during a particularly grueling shoot and had allowed Jared to vote for him.
Josh didn’t like the new guy. Not that Riley had done anything, but there was something about him. Riley watched him in a way he didn’t the others. Maybe that was simply the price of fame and shit, but he wasn’t sure.
And given what he was going to have to do tonight, the last thing he wanted was someone watching him with suspicious eyes.
He had to get away from his bodyguards, and that included Kayla. He had to do it all so he could pay off his blackmailer. One million dollars four times a year. Winter. Spring. Summer. Fall. Just like clockwork, he paid for the privilege of keeping his past firmly in the past.
“Did I misread the situation?” Riley asked, looking between the two of them. “I can call her back. I assure you she’ll overlook a little embarrassment to bottom for either one of you, though I worry about what your sub might do if you try to take on another one, Master Josh.”
“Kayla knows the rules of the club. She’s not going to misbehave, and she’s certainly not going to question me if I decide to bring in a secondary play partner.” He was well aware he’d gone into arrogant-asshole mode, but he couldn’t help it. He didn’t want to become the laughingstock of the club. He wasn’t about to become that Dom, the one who couldn’t control his submissive.
Sometimes he was absolutely certain this was the only place he was in control.
Still, he wasn’t about to tell the man that the thought of taking on a second submissive—even if only for a scene—hadn’t occurred to him once. She was more than enough woman for him to handle.
And it would hurt her, something he couldn’t do.
“Of course, you know her far better than I do,” Riley said, inclining his head politely.
But there it was. It wasn’t the same tell every time, but it felt like Riley Blade knew something he didn’t. Something important. It was probably paranoia. He got that way when the payment was due. He let it go, but he couldn’t help but think that the Dom in Residence wasn’t quite what he said he was. “I do. Is our scene set up? I want to have plenty of time before the party.”
It was the monthly birthday party for the members. Silly thing, but he tried not to miss it. These people were his family and friends. His only family and friends. It was also the perfect time to sneak away. Everyone changed into street clothes for cake and ice cream, wine and beer. He could slip out the back, hop on Jared’s Ducati, and make it to the trail he’d been directed to. He would have to haul ass to find the statue of the Virgin Mary, leave the package there, and get back before the bodyguards knew what was happening.
And hopefully he didn’t step into a nest of rattlesnakes or get torn apart by a mountain lion.
It wasn’t even like he had a million in cash. He was delivering a small box that contained an electronic key. The key would allow his asshole blackmailer to access the account he’d dumped the million in. It changed every time and at no time in the past five years since the blackmail had begun had the jerk allowed him to simply transfer the funds himself. Nope, the fucker liked to make things rough on him. Always somewhere dark. Always alone. Always dangerous.