Would he be considered a bad egg? Reaux wondered in amusement. After all, he’d crafted and submitted a fictional name on his application. Not for nefarious reasons—just to keep Violet from learning of his arrival before he had time to get himself in position.
Hmmm, was that a nefarious reason?
Perhaps, but it was too late to retract now.
He posed no threat to anyone but her, and that was only if she deemed him one.
“That is good to know.” His eyebrow lifted as a delicate, porcelain-skinned redhead rocketed through the door of the building they were approaching, her black pumps skidding to a halt on the porch before she took a tumble down the steps.
“Uh-oh,” his companion muttered.
Pale green eyes narrowed on Donovan, then on Reaux, and the stunning panic on her face shut down into bristling fury. Chest heaving, the redhead spun in place, storming back inside, and slammed the door behind her.
“That would be, ah—”
“Jennifer,” Donovan replied with a sigh.
“I think the jig is up.”
“Time to face the music, I guess.” Donovan rolled his shoulders and made a beeline for the steps. “This is the clubhouse. The main office, bar, and restaurant take up the ground floor. Medical clinic, boss’s office, and some of the guest accommodations are upstairs. Did you book a cabin or a room?”
The reservation was for an open-ended stay, but he hadn’t specified a preference for his accommodation. “I’m not sure. I didn’t ask for one or the other.”
“How long are you planning on being here?”
As long as it took to convince Violet she belonged with him, not hiding her light under a fucking bush in the wilds of Denver. “At least a month. I’m taking a long vacation.”
Donovan pursed his lips as he opened the door. “Jennifer probably allocated you a cabin. Anything over a week usually warrants a residential cabin unless otherwise requested.”
Reaux walked in ahead of him, well aware he was being used as a shield. Ignoring the death glare aimed at him, he glanced around at the décor. Understated elegance, a lot of glossy wood and glass. The scent of something delicious drifted from thedoors to his left; the low murmur of energetic chatter from the ones on his right.
Feeling Donovan at his back, Reaux walked calmly up to the desk and smiled genially at the redhead. The waves of anger radiating off her could’ve fried a lesser man in his shoes.
“Good afternoon, Miss Jennifer.” Because it always seemed to work on women—and a few men—he flavored his voice with a heavy dose of French accent. When her stiff posture relaxed slightly, he widened his smile. “May I trouble you for a few moments?”
Sulky jade-green eyes slid in Donovan’s direction. “Of course, sir. Checking in?”
“Please.”
Fingernails clacked on the keys at a rapid pace. “Thank you, Mr. Close. You’re in cabin twelve—once you’re back on the path, take the left turn and follow it around until you reach the bench. Take a right, and the cabin is the third on your left. Oscar, your driver, has already delivered your bag, and you’ll find the keys inside on the hallway table along with a welcome pack containing all the information you need to know about Serenity.”
Reaux tapped his hand lightly on the desk. “Perfect. Thank you, Miss Jennifer. Ah, before I forget, when would…” He glanced over his shoulder at Donovan questioningly, as though he’d forgotten the name of his reason for breathing. “…Mistress Vanessa be available?”
“Violet,” his new friend corrected quietly.
“Ah, of course. When would Mistress Violet be available?”
More clack-clack-clacking. “The Mistress recently removed a guest from her schedule, leaving a Saturday afternoon appointment free. Unfortunately, she has nothing available in the next three days unless a guest cancels.”
Three days should be enough time, Reaux mused. He needed to do some recon around the club, scout out potential bolt holes and her routine before initiating first contact. If she chose to run, he wanted to be able to preempt her. “That would give me time to settle in. Please, book me in for then. Where and what time should I be ready?”
“Afternoon sessions start at two p.m. The Mistress is flexible with location—I can reserve any play area you might wish to use, or she can come to your cabin. However, if you choose the second option, I advise you are waiting and ready to begin when she arrives.” Jennifer softened enough to smile genuinely at him. “The Mistress is strict, especially with new guests, until she learns likes, dislikes, and limits. Speaking of which, if you have any, please make sure you update your list using the app on the iPad in your cabin—by noon on Saturday.”
He couldn’t help it; his grin was wicked and sharp. “Limits? What are they?”
The receptionist lit up like a neon sign, blushing delightfully. The contrast between her heated cheeks and her hair was appealing, if he’d been in the market for an attractive, easy to mark submissive. “That’s your prerogative, sir. If you require anything else, please don’t hesitate to let me know.”
“Thank you, I appreciate your time.” Stepping back from the desk, Reaux tipped his head at Donovan. “I believe it is your turn now. I hear flowers provide lubrication when extracting your head from your ass.”
