Three dots appear immediately, telling me she’s online, waiting for my response.
Thanks. How’s everything there?
It’s been nice. We went through old photo albums earlier. Mom made pot roast. Dad opened a bottle of wine he’s been saving for a special occasion. Apparently, me being home counts as special.
It is special,she replies.I’m glad you’re reconnecting with them.
I smile.Yeah. But it’s time to head home. I’ll be back tomorrow.
Great. Will you come to the club?
My stomach does a flip.Depends. Will you be there?
I’ll be waiting.The three dots appear, disappear, then appear again.Wanna play?
I bite my lip and grin, considering my response. The thought of seeing her, of being in that room with her again, sends a rush of heat through my body. I love the dominant Athena, and God, I long for her.
With you, always,I finally reply.I’ll see you tomorrow.
I set my phone aside and lie back, imagining her voice in my ear, the exquisite surrender, the way she inhales against my hair. Every night I’ve been here, I’ve fallen asleep with these fantasies, these cravings for her control as well as her tenderness.
Has she been in that room with someone else while I’ve been away? The idea makes my stomach tighten again. I know I’m special to her, but the club exists with or withoutme, and Athena is still Athena, the object of desire for every woman there.
Staring at the ceiling, I wonder at this unfamiliar jealousy. Perhaps it’s part of starting over, these new, messy emotions, and honestly, after years of feeling nothing but grief, even jealousy is welcome. My heart is waking up, demanding more than just survival.
FORTY-EIGHT
ATHENA
The club is already buzzing with activity. Through the security feed on my phone, I watch as the third limousine of the evening arrives, its tinted windows revealing nothing of the passenger inside. Robert, head of security, opens the door to help her out. It’s Senator Mitchell’s wife. If only he knew what she’s up to during her so-called spa trips to Vegas.
I slip my phone into my pocket and scan the lounge, trying to appear composed despite the nervous energy coursing through my veins. Ruby is coming back.
My hands are uncharacteristically clammy, and I discreetly wipe them against my white silk pants. This isn’t me. I don’t get nervous, especially not in my own domain where I control every variable. Yet here I am, checking my watch for the third time in five minutes, wondering when she’ll arrive.
I doubt I’m fooling anyone. Members have noticed how I single Ruby out, how my eyes follow her across the room, how I’m different with her than with anyone else. It’s embarrassing, honestly, how transparent I’ve become.
I make my rounds through the lounge, touching base with members while my senses remain attuned to the entrance, waiting for Ruby to walk through. When I spot Victoria Mitchell entering the main lounge, I approach her with a welcome smile. She’s dressed impeccably as always, her bleached bob freshly cut.
“Victoria, what a pleasure. It’s been a while,” I say, kissing her cheek.
She sighs dramatically. “Darling,” she says in her southern drawl, “you have no idea how hard it’s been to get away lately. Charly’s been dragging me to every fundraiser between DC and California. I’m exhausted.”
“Sounds like you need a proper break,” I reply. “Can I get you a gin and tonic?”
Victoria smiles and points to a waitress who’s already making her way toward us, carrying a crystal tumbler. “Your staff is as impeccable as ever.”
The waitress arrives. “Double shot with two slices of cucumber and a pinch of black pepper, Mrs. Mitchell.”
“Just the way I like it.” Victoria accepts the drink with a grateful nod. She takes a sip and hums with pleasure. “Best service ever. How do they always remember?” Victoria spots Donna across the room and brightens. “Ah, there’s Donna. She promised we’d share a doobie over drinks and gossip. I can’t wait to catch up.” She turns to me, eyebrows raised in invitation. “Care to join us?”
I’m about to accept—Victoria’s stories about Washington’s inner circle are always entertaining—when movement at the entrance catches my eye. Ruby.
“I’m sorry, Victoria. Next time?”
Ruby stands just inside the entrance, a vision in a knee-length red wrap dress. She looks stunning and everything I rehearsed evaporates.
Ruby’s eyes find mine across the room, and she smiles as she approaches. I’m struck by how much I’ve missed her, and I want to pull her into my arms, to kiss her properly, to show everyone here that she’s mine. But I hesitate, unsure of what she wants, so I settle for a kiss on her cheek, letting my lips linger against her skin longer than necessary.
