I set down the cleaning cloth and turned to face him fully. His posture had changed—he'd forgotten himself, forgotten wherehe was and who I was. The district attorney was fully present now, interrogating a potential witness.
This will not do.
“Who am I?”
“Lady E.”
I stepped closer, towering over him in my heels that added another four inches to my height. "That's right. I am Lady E, and you are my cockroach. How dare you forget who you are in this room."
His shoulders slumped instantly, the authoritative posture crumbling as his eyes dropped to the floor. A visible tremor ran through his body—the same man who commanded courtrooms now quivered before me.
"I don't care if you are the fucking DA. You walked through that door of your own free will and want, and you are mine to control. You don't get to ask questions that relate to outside this room. Do you understand me?"
"Yes, Lady E." His voice was stripped of all its courtroom confidence. His hands fidgeted at his sides, like he sought permission even to move.
"Now, touch yourself," I commanded suddenly, my voice dropping to that dangerous register.
"What?" He blinked, disoriented by the shift.
"Put your hand on your cock. Right now."
His hand moved reflexively toward his groin, and when he had his cock, I didn’t miss the slight wince.
I stepped closer. "This will be the last time. You don't touch yourself again. Not once. Not until our next session. That's your punishment for forgetting your place."
The color drained from his face as he realized his mistake. "I didn't mean to—"
"You're forbidden release. For a week. Do you understand?" A spike of adrenaline pulsed through me at how he instantlybecame my cockroach again. "Now leave. And remember who owns your pleasure."
He nodded stiffly and backed out, closing the door behind him. I exhaled slowly, my mind racing. The Azzaros had been asking questions too—about the district attorney's office, about investigations, about evidence. I was becoming an unwilling conduit between two dangerous forces.
Once the DA was in the hallway, I stepped out behind him a moment later. “Erik.” He turned and gave me a questioning look. “If you have questions, you can come to my office and ask them all you want, but my statement stands. We are simply business partners in the Paradise Club.”
With a quick nod, he turned, hurried down the hall, and ran down the stairs.
I would need to be very careful now. The district attorney wanted information I couldn't safely give. The Azzaros wanted loyalty I couldn't provide. And caught between them was a dangerous place to be—perhaps the only place more dangerous than my personal playroom.
"Inheritancescomewithstringsattached," Sal said, leaning back in his leather chair, his gaze fixed on me with a mixture of concern and calculation. "And yours comes with a whole damn web of them."
I crossed my legs, the leather of my pants creaking softly in the silence of Sal's office. He had been the owner and technically my boss for a while now, and we had forged a friendship within these walls. The Lounge was quiet this early, and the evening crowd was still hours away. Through the tinted windows,afternoon sunlight cast long shadows across the minimalist furniture.
"I didn't ask for this," I said finally. "Dad left me partial ownership of The Paradise Club. What was I supposed to do, refuse it?"
Sal's fingers drummed against his desk. "You could have. Most people would, considering your . . . professional situation." He gestured vaguely at me. "You're one of my top dommes, Elin. Clients book months in advance for you."
"And I appreciate that." I leaned forward. "Look, I'm not planning to abandon the Lounge. Paradise is just business."
"Just business," Sal echoed with a sardonic smile. "A competing business. You're part-owner of another sex club in the same city. You don't see the conflict there?"
I shook my head and let out a long breath. "Paradise isn't just a sex club. It's more . . . different clientele entirely."
"And what happens when your clients here discover you own Paradise? They'll want special treatment there or worse, they'll want you to dominate them there."
"That won't happen." My voice was unwavering and firm. "I will not be a domme at my own club. That's a line I won't cross. Professional boundaries, Sal. You taught me that."
Sal studied me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. "Boundaries blur, Elin. Especially in our world." He sighed heavily. "I don't want to lose you. But I need your assurance that this won't affect your work here."
"You have it. Paradise is an investment. The Lounge is where I belong."
