Silas: I’m sure.
Me: That should work, but let me check.
Silas: Let me know, Angel.
I stare at the little heart he adds after and feel that familiar warmth spread low in my chest. Then I back out of his thread and swipe over to Gideon’s contact.
I hit call.
It rings once.
“Penelope,” he answers, like he’s been expecting me.
“Hi,” I say, rolling to my side. “Are you busy?”
“Only pretending to read a very dry journal article,” he says. “Save me.”
I smile into the pillow. “I can try. My weekend just got screwed.”
“That sounds promising,” he says. “Or not the way you mean.”
“Both can be true.” I laugh. “Something came up Friday. So our dinner meet-up is shifting whether we want it to or not.”
He goes quiet for a moment. “How do you feel about that?” he asks, and I can hear the real question in there.
Do you want to reschedule? Do you still want this?
“I’m annoyed,” I admit. “But I still want it. Thoughts on doing Saturday instead and meeting at Velvet.”
Gideon hums. “Right. Our playground.”
“Exactly. He suggested we meet there instead. Neutral and familiar for all of us.”
“So,” he says, and I can hear the smile now, “I get to meet him surrounded by your kinks and your favorite toys.”
“You sound bothered,” I tease.
“I’m not bothered,” he says. “I’m intrigued. Also pleased this mystery man didn’t insist on changing the plan entirely. That tells me something.”
“And what does it tell you?” I ask.
“That he trusts you,” Gideon says. “Or at least that he listens to you.”
I exhale slowly. “He agreed. Said he would be there. Said he would try to behave.”
Gideon laughs, low in my ear. “Did you tell him I am a pleasure dom and not a threat to his ego?”
“Not in those words,” I say, grinning. “But I might have mentioned you’re not the kind of man who needs to piss on a tree to claim it.”
“Good,” he says. “Because I am not. But yes, Velvet on Saturday will work. Do I get to at least know his name so I can tell the hostess who I’m there to meet?”
“Nope. I like leaving it to total mystery until then. Let me hold on to my men for a bit longer until it all comes crashing down.”
“It’s not going to crash, Penelope. I only want to see you happy. I’ll take whatever I can get from you, even if it's only half your heart and body.”
“Okay,” I say, trying my best to believe him.
We fall into easy chatter. He asks about my week, about my students, about how many times I have mentally strangled the student stalker I have in the last forty-eight hours. I tell him I lost count. He tells me about a client who tried to flirt their way out of accountability and how that never works on him.
