Chapter One
Evander
“Evander, over here!” I was headed for the main floor of Cuffed, the club I spent my few free evenings at. Usually, I preferred to make plans ahead of time, in order to reserve one of my favorite stations, but a power outage at French Corner had given me an unexpected night off. Since it was a weeknight, and not one of the busiest, I hoped to at least find both a spanking bench and interested submissive for some time in the next few hours.
So, while I was always glad to see my friend, one of the owners of the club, it was with some reluctance that I turned back to the conversation area where several alpha doms were sharing an appetizer platter and enjoying cocktails.
“Hello, Talon, everyone. Looks like you’re having a nice time. I was just going to see if I could find—”
“Forget about it.” Liam, another owner, gave me a rueful smile. “There’s not so much as an empty corner to punish a naughty sub available tonight. Why do you think we’re all here?”
If the owners, who generally could do whatever pleased them, were not playing, what chance did I have? “Oh well. I didn’t expect to be here, but since I was, I thought I’d give it a shot. Why so busy?”
“Oh, haven’t you heard the buzz?” Talon moved over, making room for me on the sofa he shared with Jabez, the healer. “Word just came out about the new club we’re opening. Crowned.”
“Congratulations. I didn’t know a thing about it. But why would that fill Cuffed?”
“They are all trying to learn the details. It’s in another city and will be a sister club, so if you belong here, your membershipwill grant you admission there if you’re traveling on business or whatever. And they are all wound up imagining it’s going to be the kinkiest ever.”
I chuckled. “That explains the general mood out there. But what gave them that impression?”
Every alpha seated nearby smirked.
“I get it. Sort of a membership drive?” I shook my head. “I’ll never understand business. Just leave me in my kitchen where I can create food to my heart’s content. Not that I actually get to be creative.” My voice lowered for that last part, as I realized how whiny it must sound. “Sorry. I like my job a lot, really.”
They glanced at one another, the group smirk intensifying.
“Go ahead and laugh at me if you want. I know I should be grateful to have such a wonderful kitchen and staff and all the best ingredients. If my boss limits me, he’s in it to make money after all.”
“Money is good,” Liam agreed. “But I fail to see how stopping a creative genius from achieving his best work is in the interest of profit. Maybe I don’t understand the restaurant business.”
“What we all do understand,” Talon put in, “is how to run a club, and our new club is in the process of staffing.”
“That must be a big chore. Since I’ve been running the kitchen, I’ve learned how difficult it can be to find the right personnel for each position.”
“Simon is willing to let you do that, huh?” Talon said. “All the hard work.” Simon, my boss, was well-known around town. One of those big personalities it could be difficult to deal with, but he paid well and outside of making me keep the menu small and to his taste, he wasn’t bad. “That man ran six chefs in a row out before he got you.”
“So I’ve heard. But I’ll put in my time for a few more years. I’m saving to open my own restaurant. Then I can stretch mycreativity while hopefully also making a living. It’s fine. I’m just bummed not to be able to play tonight.”
“Well, maybe it isn’t a total loss.” Jabez waved over a server. “What are you drinking?”
“Since I’m not playing, I guess a scotch rocks. They have my bottle.”
The server took my order and some refills from the others before heading off toward the bar, and we settled back down to talk.
“The night’s not a loss when I can spend it with friends.” I felt that to my toes. At work, where I spent nearly all my time, everyone in the kitchen worked under me, and I had to keep a professional distance. Simon’s rules.
“Couldn’t agree more.” Jabez pushed my bottle, left on the table by the server, toward me. “Have another drink. We have a proposition to put to you.”
“And it requires alcohol? If you need me to cook for an event or something, just ask. You know I am always supportive of charitable fundraisers or even just member parties.”
“It’s not that.” Talon lifted his glass and tossed back the last of his drink. “We had someone in mind to run the kitchen at Crowned but turned out, they were not our kind of people.” Meaning, uncomfortable with the club’s whole reason for being. “He thought he would be fine, but one night peeked into the main room and quit on the spot.”
“And now we’re stuck.” Liam smiled. “We had thought of asking you before, but you’re getting all those write-ups in the paper and awards at French Corner. So, we didn’t think you would be interested in moving to a new town and taking on our little project. Frankly, you’re overqualified.”
“So, why ask me now?”
Talon, who always seemed to take point in difficult situations, stood up and waved toward the side hallway. “Whydon’t you and I go outside where it’s a little quieter. I’ll tell you what we have in mind, and you can tell us you are too good a chef to run a club kitchen and thank me kindly for my consideration.”
