“The king of dexterity, both in and out of the bedroom, isn’t that right, uncle?” Rhett pushed, receiving another bout of laughter.
While I wasn’t a man into names and titles befitted through particular expertise, my family saw no reason not to remind me every chance they got. I’d earned the name after making a woman come without touching her privates.
“Flogging work for you, son?” He hadn’t mastered the art yet and always sought my direction. A round of applause followed my acceptance and Rhett’s nod. “Now that we’ve mollified our young stallion let’s get down to business. Shall we?” I arched a brow at my nephew. He grinned. “With the curse broken.” I cast a grateful look at my son. “I’ve decided there’s no longer a need for the ritual.”
“Why would you make that decision?” asked Oliver.
He garnered a few narrowed eyes and clenched jaws. I stepped in before the others could voice their distaste for the man. “Let me remind you, Oliver, that you represent Sharona on board resolutions.” My tone hard, I glared at the man. “Brotherhood decisions don’t concern you.”
“If that is the case, I’m representing my wife just like the other women present.” He flicked a glance at my sisters, who glowered their annoyance. Admittedly, he had a point there since women weren’t part of the Brotherhood or allowed to attend its rituals.
“With Sinclair's blood running through him, Rhett is already here for her. You don’t need to be,” my youngest sister, Lucille, scoffed. To think she rarely voiced anything untoward.
I intervened. “Seeing as you’re already here, Oliver, I suggest you merely listen?” My brow shot up, daring him to argue. When he said nothing, I turned to the rest of my family. “Now, as I was saying. The ritual was in place for the curse, and with that no longer an issue, I don’t think my decision is debatable. All in agreement, raise your hand.” Besides Oliver, all hands went up. “Good. That brings me to the submissive training center. Does anyone have any thoughts they’d like to share before I have my say?”
“If it’s not stepping out of line, I vote yes to a tweak in our traditional practice and a continuation to BDSM parties,” Rhett quipped, earning a couple of grins and mumbles. “Minus the ritual and sacrificial virgins.” He chuckled.
“Why?” Saint leaned back in his chair, his usual studious disposition in place.
“Think about it.” All eyes pinned on him, Rhett stood and walked over to pour himself a cup of coffee. “We’re all adults in this room.” His gaze drifted to each person as he sipped his drink. “Which of you can honestly say that you practice your bedroom kink outside the ritual without feeling judged or fearful of being labeled a freak? You can walk into a bar, a club, or a restaurant and see someone you want to get down and dirty with but are afraid to ask if they’re into handcuffs, blindfolds, whips, chains, or hot wax over their skin. I’m sure there’s more twisted shit you’re probably into.” He grinned, his gaze landing on one of my other nephews, who snorted his annoyance. “Adrian’s gone red in the face. Because he’s embarrassed about knife play.”
“Shut the fuck up, Rhett,” Adrian grumbled.
“See what I’m talking about.” Rhett didn’t back down. “What if we hosted BDMS parties? Enjoy your kink to the maximum, so to speak.” He laughed. “We’d be opening doors that most people like us keep shut because society looks down upon them. We’ll give them room to breathe and fuck how they want to.”
“I agree,” Lucille said, her cheeks flushed. “We could extend the invite to our most trusted business associates and closest friends. Display their preferences and let them choose to explore or watch. Entrance by invite only.” She sounded almost breathless, as if the idea excited her. Considering she was the shyest of us, her bravery to voice this made me smile. “We can dedicate a day or two every month, host it at private venues and maybe give it a theme...” she trailed off, realizing she had the entire room’s attention on her. “Or not,” she whispered, shrugging.
“I like Lucille’s idea too.” Rhett slid back into his chair, pulling the focus away from my sister.
“I agree, Father,” Saint added, surprising me. “I want to open doors for Levana. Let her explore. Show her subservience isn’t about degrading yourself.” He grinned. My son excelled as a Dom but could never tame the girl he loved. She’d made him beg just for the word, sir.
“You mean you’re willing to let others touch her?” Rhett straightened in his seat, his expression mischievous.
“Over my fucking dead body,” my son growled, garnering himself a room full of laughter.
“I didn’t say I want to, Seb,” Rhett snorted.
“Yeah, right,” Adrian mocked. “You want everything you can’t have.”
“Fuck off.” Rhett’s good-natured banter got him the two-finger salute.
“Okay, boys,” I scolded. “Let’s put Rhett’s suggestion to a vote. All in favor of hosting these parties, raise your hands.” Surprisingly, all hands went up. I smiled. “Unanimous decision, Rhett. I’ll leave you, Lucille, and Saint, to work out the logistics?” My gaze shifted between the three of them. They all nodded. “Moving on to—”
“One question,” my youngest brother said. I gestured for him to go ahead. “Would these parties fall under the Sinclair name or the Brotherhood?”
“I’d say Winthrop Brotherhood not only allows it secrecy but steers the Sinclair name clear of any controversy.”
“Agreed,” a chorused consensus followed my statement.
“If that is the case, would the women in the family be allowed to attend?” my middle sister asked.
I grinned, catching the look she shared with the other ladies. “Yes. If you recall, the Brotherhood was formed solely for the curse that affected our family’s men. That’s now over. Any business that now falls under the auspices of the Brotherhood would include the women in the family. Yes, that includes you too, Oliver.” I said before he could voice whatever he was about to say. “But you will behave per our rules or face the consequences. Understood?” I delivered that one word in a harsh tone I reserved for the hardcore bastard I portrayed when the moment necessitated.
“Yes,” his tight-lipped reply had no effect on me. I merely raised a brow, and his gaze dropped to the floor.
“Good. Moving onto the submissive classes.” I referred to the submissive training center that began just after my twentieth birthday. Where we not only schooled interested ladies in the art of submission but trained young men in the etiquette and intricacies behind the perfect Dom. “Given its success, I’m all for keeping it running.” Several nods of agreement followed as I added, “all in favor, raise your hands.” Once more, all hands went up. “If there’s nothing else, Jodie will share the meeting minutes.” I glanced at my assistant sitting at the back of the boardroom. Thirteen years with me promised her loyalty and confidentiality. “Sign and get it back to her by close of business tomorrow.”
After they all left the room, I turned to Saint. Hands in his trouser pockets, he stood looking out the floor-to-ceiling window.
