If she’d been within reach, Domme or not, her ass would’ve been a bright, blistering red from a repeated application of his hand; she knew better than to put herself at risk in such a manner.
After that, she’d disappeared off the radar.
Gone.
Months of searching, digging, scouring the fucking country andnothing.
Finally, with a touch of luck and many thousands of dollars thrown into the hunt, his little beignet was finally within reach again. Once he had everything in position, he would—
“Hey, there. Are you lost?”
Quirking an eyebrow in displeasure, Reaux turned to face the man who interrupted his quiet moment of reflection. “Not in the least. Just admiring the view.”
Tall, beefy, and blond, the guy eyed him with the critical stare of a cop. It wasn’t the friendliest expression, but then, he was wearing a security uniform and a utility belt packed with all sorts of interesting goodies—including a taser. “Are you a guest, sir?”
“As soon as I join my luggage down there and check in,” Reaux confirmed, gesturing to the buildings. “Is there a problem with me being here?”
“Not at all, sir. We like to keep security at Serenity tight for the safety and comfort of our members. Most take the golf cart; it’s unusual to find someone on foot.” The security guard tugged a radio from his belt. “Would you mind if I verify your reservation, sir? For my own peace of mind.”
Yes, he damn well did, actually. This was the kind of thing that might give his precious Violet forewarning of his arrival. Still, judging by the look in the guard’s eyes, if Reaux didn’t cooperate, he wasn’t going past this point without a fight.
“Of course. Check under the name Derek Close. My bag should be waiting at reception if the driver delivered it as promised.”
“Thanks.” Lifting the radio, the guy spoke into it. “Jennifer, you there?”
“I am, indeed.”
“It’s Donovan. I’m on the back pathway to the parking lot with a gentleman. Can you check his status for me?”
“I just need a name, Donovan.”
Was that a hint of color accentuating Donovan’s wide cheekbones?
Reaux sensed romance in the air, suppressing a grin. People always gave away their secrets without realizing it—a look, a gesture, a word. The littlest thing became the biggest weapon.
“Derek Close.”
“Oh yes, Mr. Close. We’re expecting him, Donovan; Ozzie dropped his luggage off a few minutes ago and let us know Mr. Close had chosen to walk.”
The big guy pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Maybe next time you could pass the message on, Jennifer, and inform us. You know, the security team? It might save the next client from rolling around on the ground with taser prongs in his ass.”
The horrified silence which followed was rather amusing, Reaux thought as he rubbed his thumb over his mouth, watching Donovan carefully. Was the man a practical joker, or simply teaching the receptionist a lesson in communication?
When he winked at Reaux, he decided it was a combination of the two.
“W-What did youdo, Donovan?” Jennifer whispered.
“My job. I’ll drag his sorry ass down to you when he regains feeling in his legs. Maybe have some fresh pants ready for him; I think the high voltage shorted out his bladder.”
“Oh my God, oh my God—”
Donovan switched the radio off and tucked it back into the belt. “Sorry about that. I’ll walk with you if you don’t mind.”
“Do you often torment the receptionists?”
Massive shoulders shrugged. “Only when necessary. The girls who hold down the fort are good at their jobs, they just forget to loop security in on pertinent details occasionally. Maybe she’ll remember next time. Could you maybe limp when you check in?”
“Perhaps. I refuse to soil myself, however.”
