Accounting was on my ass because I’d frozen all outgoing payments with the exception of payroll until further notice. It was supposed to buy us time, but all it did was ripple down to the staff. Everyone was on edge now, passing around rumors. The last thing I needed was panic spreading through the company and more of our clients getting information without the whole story.
I straightened the piles on my desk, slid the papers into their folders, and locked them away. Then I dumped my empty coffee cups and half-eaten protein bar wrappers into the trash, along with the wrapper from the sandwich Mira had brought in earlier.
Almost seven. Another day gone. Damn it all to hell. Was it Friday yet?
I pulled out my phone and hovered over my personal email—the one I used to talk to Mira. Not Mira, my employee.My Pet, my submissive.
Lately, I’d started asking her questions. At first, it was under the pretense of getting to know her better for training purposes. But it had become more than that. Once we entered a scene, there wasn’t time to talk—no space for conversation, only commands and reactions. The kind of relationship we’d agreed to didn’t require anything outside of limits and consent.
It had been what we’d both wanted. Right?
But I wanted to know her anyway.
Like how the dark blue lace set she wore last weekend wasn’t arbitrary. It was her favorite color. Or how I’d sent her red roses the first two weeks after our sessions as a thank-you, until I learned she didn’t like red roses. So last week, I sent white instead.
Red was easy. Classic. Dominant. Powerful.
But while it said something– everything– aboutme, it didn’t say a damn thing abouther.
My thumb hovered over her name longer than I wanted to admit.
I shouldn’t.
We didn’t talk outside of the dynamic. At least, we weren’t supposed to. Didn’t need to. But somewhere along the way, the rules had started to bend, and I hadn’t stopped it.
She’d started slipping through the cracks I’d built to keep my worlds separate.
Mira wasn’t supposed to exist there. My Pet, and my employee were two separate people. Ithadto be that way, but I couldn’t keep the lines clean anymore. The way Mira had come out of her shell, not only in our scenes but in the office as well. I wondered if she noticed how she’d changed. The way she stood straighter. The way she didn’t back down when I snapped at her.
God, she was everywhere. The quiet mess of my office, she was the insomnia that followed me home each and every night.She was supposed to exist there—in the dark, in control I could hold onto.
My worlds didn’t collide. My kinks stayed at Sanctum. My professional life stayed here. On paper, the media painted me as a playboy, a bachelor with too much money and not enough sense. But if the press ever got ahold of my real preferences—the things Iactuallyneeded—the fallout would be catastrophic.
I tapped the screen before I could talk myself out of it and emailed her.
Pet,
Hope you had a good day at work. I can’t wait to get you alone and have some dessert on Saturday. I have something sweet in mind. Do you accept?
I was tempted to ask if she was available tonight, but that would show my hand. Show how desperate I was to see her. I couldn’t do that.
I stared at the blinking cursor, waiting. Wondering if she’d answer. When had she left for the day? She’d dropped another coffee on my desk with a protein bar around three without a word.
The first time I messaged her afterward, I’d convinced myself it was a one-time thing—just checking in, making sure she was okay after that scene. Aftercare, after all, right?
Now, it was becoming a habit. A tether.
When her reply came through, I exhaled without meaning to.
Master,
It’s been a long day and apparently not over yet. I look forward to whatever you have planned on Saturday, given I’m not still at work.
Your Pet.
I leaned back in my chair, tension loosening across my shoulders. The day she’d screamed outMasterhad undone me in ways I hadn’t imagined or expected. I’d had submissivesbefore that defaulted to calling me Master, but with Mira, she’d made me earn it.
My thumbs hovered over my phone, as I focused on if I was going to send another email or not. I knew I shouldn’t. It would be crossing a line but I wasn’t sure how much longer I could stay on my side.
