"They can." He closes his tablet. "Just don't let wanting her get in the way of keeping her alive."
"I'll handle it." I stand. "Margot expecting us soon?"
"She'll have the club prepped early. Private room reserved, security briefed." Remy levels me with that older brother look. "Luc. Be careful with this one."
We both know Simone LaCroix is different from any asset I've protected before. The way she said "Yes, Sir" this morning, submitting to my authority in a professional context—I felt that straight to my cock. The power in it. The surrender.
Evening light slants through the trees as I walk back to the guest house. Simone's upstairs in the workspace when I let myself in.
She's changed from the CEO armor she wore for her video conferences. Dark jeans, silk blouse, hair loose around her shoulders. The professional polish is gone, replaced by something softer.
She looks up when I enter. "How did it go?"
"We have three primary suspects and several persons of interest under active surveillance." I move into the room. "Margot's implemented enhanced security at Dominion. Everything's in place for tonight."
"And if no one takes the bait?" Her hands are steady, but I can see the tension in her shoulders.
"Then we learn they're more cautious than anticipated. Either way, we move the investigation forward." I study her. "How do you think the meetings went?"
"Legal review was straightforward. No issues with the Gulf acquisition terms." She stands, moves to the window, then catches herself. Remembers the email threat, the photo of her through this very glass. Steps back. "Henry was harder."
"You told him."
"I told him someone's been stalking me. That Rapier Strategic is providing protection while the threat is assessed and neutralized." She wraps her arms around herself. "He wanted details. Wanted to know if this was connected to corporate espionage, if the board needed to be informed, if my safety required stepping down temporarily."
"What did you tell him?"
"That the threat is personal, not corporate. That stepping down would signal weakness to whoever's doing this." She turns to face me. "He's concerned. But he trusts me to handle it."
The relief in her voice tells me how much that conversation cost. Admitting vulnerability to someone whose opinion matters. Risking the judgment she's spent years avoiding.
"He's right to trust you." I step toward her. "You handled your uncle this morning. Maintained composure when he tried to undermine you. That takes strength."
"It takes the act." Her laugh is bitter. "I'm good at the act."
"Tonight you drop it." The command in my voice makes her eyes widen. "Tonight you submit. Real submission, not what you've been giving other Doms at Dominion."
"How do you know it's been an act?"
"Because you chase endorphins instead of surrender. You book private rooms to keep everything contained—who sees you, what they see, when it ends." I close the distance between us. "You negotiate scenes like business deals. Safe. Restricted. Never actually giving up power."
Her pupils dilate. "And if I can't?" The question comes out small.
"Then you can't." I stroke my thumb along her jaw. "But you're more terrified of what happens if you let go than you are of the stalker."
Her whole body trembles. The recognition that I'm right.
"We need to negotiate terms." I release her, put distance between us before I skip the negotiation entirely and just take. "Hard limits. Safewords. What you're willing to explore and what's off the table."
The shift from intensity to negotiation steadies her. This she knows how to do. "Standard limits. No permanent marks, no breath play, no public humiliation."
"Tonight's not public. Private room, door locked. Just you and me." I pull out my phone. "How much pain can you take?"
"Moderate. Impact play is fine. Nothing extreme."
"Bondage?"
"Yes."
