Around eleven, I finally decided to close the laptop and head downstairs to take a look around. Once on the ground floor, I nodded to one of our membership associates and walked into the main room. Dim, soft light spilled from the ceiling, washing the room in a hazy glow that left the farthest corners shrouded in shadow. There were low, plush couches, each a different shade of burgundy and dark blue, scattered throughout the space, provided a shred of privacy, but not so much of it that someone would be able to get away with nonconsensual acts. Taking a deep breath, I let the music pulse against my nerves and took in the fact that the place at least didn’t smell like debauchery.
There was a subtle musky scent in the air, but I couldn’t exactly place it. It could have been the scent of sexual desire or the polished dark mahogany wood of the bar to the far right, its shelves stocked with bottles of various colors.
A part of me smiled at how my father had carefully created a landscape of desire, without looking cheap. The raised platform at the far end, barely a foot high, had a couple preparing for a performance. My gaze lingered for only a moment before I weaved my way through the crowd to the bar. I saw Gavriel talking to a woman with long blonde hair and just about as much clothing as anyone else in the room, which wasn’t much. She was clearly trying to coerce him into something, but he seemed to be politely declining the offer. When his gaze met mine, I gave him a small nod and turned toward the bartender.
“Whiskey sour, please.”
His gaze looked over me, and there was clear confusion on his face. “Where is your button, ma’am?”
I reached my hand out to shake his as I said, “Elin Perkins. Joel’s daughter and now partial owner of the club.”
Blinking quickly to regain his composure, he shook my hand before saying, “Nice to meet you, Ms. Perkins. Whiskey sour, coming up.”
“Didn’t expect you to be a whiskey gal.” Gavriel’s voice was close to my ear, so I could hear him clearly despite the booming music in the room. I tried to ignore the fact that the feel of his breath on my skin instantly had my heart racing and the memory of his face in pure heaven as I’d stood on his balls earlier.
Slowly, I turned toward Gavriel. “Now, now, Pretty Boy. Did I give you permission to be so close?”
The bartender placed the tumbler down in front of me, his focus bouncing between the two of us.
A slow smirk lifted Gavriel’s lips before he leaned back and then against the bar. “Glad to know your eyes are working.”
So, it’s going to be like this? Let’s play, asshole.
“Of course you’re pretty. Pretty egotistical. Pretty entitled. Pretty stuck up. Pretty fucking stupid to think I’ll ever like you.” I arched an eyebrow as I glared at him. “You didn’t answer my question, but I’ll feed you your line this time. No, I did not give you permission to be that close to me.” I leaned in, ignoring how good he smelled and how much I wanted him on his knees in front of me again. “I’m leaving. Don’t forget what I said earlier.” The words came out low and firm. It wasn’t quite my domme voice, but there was no questioning the weight of the order.
His gaze dropped as he squared his shoulders. “Yes, ma’am.”
Interesting.
Tipping back the liquid in my tumbler, I relished the warmth of the whiskey, letting it ground me before I turned on my heel and walked out the door.
Chapter 12
Thenextmorning,asthe elevator doors shut to take me up to my office, I leaned on the back wall. I was exhausted, and with thoughts of what had occurred with Elin rolling around in my head, I couldn’t sleep. After following up on some informants in Westwood’s camp, I’d headed home, only to toss and turn, tangling myself in the sheets. All night, I’d kept reliving everything that had happened in her office. She had owned me. Completely taken control. Threatened to put me in a fucking ball cage.
Fucking bitch.
The problem: I’d loved it.
I had to admit that much. My entire body had been hers to command. I couldn’t fight it. She’d . . . I thumped my hand on the wall just as the doors opened. Stomping through the hall, I paused at her office door, which was wide open. Sticking my head in, I was partially relieved it was void of her, but my cock twitched and hardened as my eyes trailed over the area where she’d had me on my knees before her. As I closed my eyes to steady myself, I could feel her touch on me. Feel her nailsdigging into my tender skin. The ghost of her finger fucking my ass.
Fuck. I’m so screwed.
Forcing myself to walk away, I made my way to my office. After I entered the code, the electronic mechanism beeped and the lock slid away. Pushing the door open, I tried to shake the thought of my face smashed into her pussy.
Gods, she was perfection.
Stopping by the kitchenette just to the right of the bathroom, I made a quick cup of coffee, letting the memory of her owning me take over. No one, and I meantno one, had ever taken me over like that. Anyone who had tried had learned quickly why I was called the Owl’s Talon. Once my coffee was done, I added two yellow packets of sweetener and headed for my desk. I flopped into my chair, only to freeze when I saw a small black box, tied shut with a black ribbon, and a black, square card sitting on top of my laptop.
My attention flicked between the box and the door. No one should have been able to get in here. Reaching out carefully, I picked up the note, making sure there were no wires or anything to set off any mechanism to blow me to hell. Though, there was a chance I was already there with Elin in my head.What did she do to me?
Opening it, I stared at the elegant print. My fingers traced over the letters before my brain registered them.
Gavriel,
Since you want to act like a medieval prick, you can put it in chain mail. Take a picture once you are locked up, send it to me, and then put the key on my desk.
~E
