“Yes. I’m sorry.”
“I understand, but please know, the door is always open.”
“Thank you.”
“What will you do instead?” Gaby asked.
Julia knew what she meant. Being submissive was who she was, not by choice. The others came to it later, but she’d known and been in the lifestyle for over a decade.
“I don’t know. Can you become a nun if you were raised Baptist?”
“Pretty sure that’s not how that works,” Emily said.
“I was raised Catholic,” Cari stated. “It’s not without a whole lot of work.”
Julia picked up her Danish. “Guess I’ll sublimate with sugar and cream cheese.”
That, they all understood.
“If that doesn’t work, and you get the itch again, stay away from The Underground. That club is bad news,” Gaby said. “Four women have gone missing. Those clubs seem to be the common thread.”
The mood in the room changed, and all humor disappeared.
“I know. Leland told me. It’s awful.”
Cari set her cup down and laid a hand on her arm. “You can’t keep going there, Julia. It isn’t safe.”
Gaby added gently. “And you fit the profile.”
Julia blinked. “I’m sorry—what?”
She held her gaze. “You’re exactly the kind of sub he’s targeting. We’re investigating, but it came to us cold. It might take a while to find him.”
For a second, Julia stared at her. Her stomach lurched, a bitter burn climbing into her throat. “I think I might be sick.”
“Good. Then you’re done with The Underground.” Emily reached over and squeezed her hand. “Promise me.”
“Promise us,” Gaby corrected.
“I promise,” Julia said, and meant it. “I never felt comfortable there.” She shook her head, glancing at Cari. “It’s not your place.”
“No place is.” She smiled faintly. “But that’s all Nick.” After a brief pause, she added, “Though I like to think I improved it.”
“You did,” Emily said.
“Absolutely,” Gaby added.
They talked about nothing and everything—club gossip, upcoming events, people Julia hadn’t realized she missed until their names came up.
It helped.
Eventually, the coffee was gone, the pastries reduced to crumbs, and the visit wound down.
Emily hugged her tightly. Gaby squeezed her hand. Cari lingered a second longer than the others, her smile softer.
When they were gone, the apartment fell quiet again.
She returned to the kitchen, collecting cups, wiping down the table and counter. The routine steadied her—distracting her mind while keeping her hands occupied.
