For the Sub (21 page)

When she’d wiped down the counter, she’d caught him looking at her. She’d read the desire in his eyes. The haunted expression that had defined him over the years had vanished. He was no longer the Dom who’d been sitting outside at the Den’s private party, looking so formidable that she’d debated whether or not to approach him.

Now, not for the first time, she wished she hadn’t.

During the time at her home and at his, she had seen how deep he was, laughed with him, met his aunt, learnt about his businesses, been cared for by him. And damn it, he’d even sent a rubber foot to her nasty little wiener dog.

As much as she hated to admit it, in retrospect, Gregorio had been right. Master Niles was a man she should have never become involved with.

She’d been accurate when she’d told him there were too many miles between them, literal and figurative. She had a humble, unassuming life in a small mountain town. He had his fingers in five or six different businesses and a lifestyle to match.

From the beginning, he’d been clear that he didn’t intend to get involved in another relationship again.

One of them had needed to be smart.

If she’d continued, she might have ended up losing herself again. With him, so powerful and commanding, it would be all-too easy.

The ghosts may have been vanquished from his eyes, but she was afraid they’d moved to her heart.

He wasn’t making it easy for her to keep her distance, though. He’d approved her website design. Every few days, he sent a polite request for an update. Like the coward she was, she’d moved his project to one side while she worked on other things, like his aunt’s marketing campaign.

A week after the silent auction, he’d sent her the Denver Nuggets tickets she’d been so excited about. Of course, they were courtside, close enough to see the players sweat. And they were for the upcoming home opener against one of the greatest rivals in franchise history.

He’d included a note telling her he’d love to go, but that she was free to invite someone else. They were her gift, and she could do whatever she wanted with them, as long as she enjoyed the evening. Margot would probably be the happy recipient of the extra ticket, much to John’s disappointment, but guilt told her he should be in the seat next to her.

She entered the Den and saw Gregorio in the kitchen. Giving him a half-hearted wave, she went straight to the ladies’ locker room. Since her time with Master Niles, she’d managed to avoid private conversation with Gregorio, and she wanted to keep it that way.

She changed into a short skirt, spiky heels and an interesting, sheer shirt that had only one sleeve, leaving the opposite shoulder and arm bare.

With a flick of her wrist, Brandy slammed her locker door shut, ready for another now-meaningless evening at the Den. She hadn’t lost the joy of submission, she’d just lost the enthusiasm for giving it to any different number of men each weekend. She wanted to be on her knees for one particular Dom. And since he had no interest in being that man, she’d been smart to escape when she did.

“We need to talk.”

Brandy looked up to see Gregorio standing inside the doorway.

“This is the ladies’ room,” she informed him.

When he spread his legs, folded his arms across his chest and raised his eyebrows, she sighed. Tonight he looked even more rugged than usual. He wore masculine motorcycle boots, a pair of painted-on pants and a leather vest that hung open over his smooth, olive-coloured skin. Doms and subs alike would like to get their hands on this bad boy switch.

“I’ve known you, what, five years? It’s not like you to be lethargic.”

“My freelance business has taken off.” It was close enough to the truth that he should believe her. “Once I meet a couple of deadlines, I’ll be fine.”

“Other people might accept that. I don’t.”

When she tipped her chin and swallowed the stupid lump that had unexpectedly lodged in her throat, he took a step towards her.

“Master Niles?”

“No.”

“He looked like shit the other night.”

Her pulse hammered. “When did you see him?”

“His production company had a shoot up here.”

She sank onto the bench behind her. Brandy had purposefully shoved aside flashes of images of him dominating other women—sexy, beautiful models and actresses. Even though she suspected he wouldn’t get involved with any of them, it was always a possibility, and the idea tortured her.

“So this
is
about him,” Gregorio guessed.

“You were right. Is that what you wanted to hear? I shouldn’t have seen him.”

“Oh, honey. You’ve got the biggest heart of anyone I know.”

“Dumb, aren’t I?”

He shook his head. “It was inevitable.”

“He’s pretty cool.”

“Broken.”

Gregorio hadn’t seen the grooves ease from beside Master Niles’ eyes.

“I never wanted to be right,” Gregorio said.

“Next time I’ll listen to you.” She went into his arms and gathered strength for at least a minute.

“For the record? He hired someone else to emcee the scene. He didn’t participate in the video. Told Master Damien he was going to be stepping back to pursue other interests after he gets some people trained, said part of it depends on his redesigned website going live.”

She stepped away from Gregorio. His news stunned her.

Master Niles was no longer working in his own company, and he’d sent a veiled message to her through Gregorio.

“Let us know if you’d like us to fire you or whether you’d prefer to turn in your notice.”

“I… What?” She stared at him, trying to comprehend what he’d said, but unable to make sense of the words.

“We’ve had no complaints. But you can’t tell me your heart is in this.”

“You’re
firing
me?”

“Do you really want to stay?”

“This is unexpected.”

“Is it? Or have you been moving towards it all along?”

“This is part of who I am, my social life, my friends. It gives me something to do so that the weekends aren’t unbearably long.” She sighed. “You can’t fire me.”

He laughed from somewhere deep inside. “I’m afraid I can. You can tell me I was right later.”

“Fuck you,” she said.

“Honey, go home. Think about it.”

“You’re really terminating me?”

“In that capacity.”

“What other capacity is there?” she asked, not even trying to be polite. She was too flummoxed, overwhelmed.

“We’ve had complaints about the newsletter not being timely enough, about links not working, about members not being able to find information on special events.”

Her mouth fell open. “Are you offering me a new job?”

“Honey, you’re a part of the Den. We wouldn’t be able to let you go entirely.”

“I don’t know what to say.” Never in her entire life had she been given a pink slip and a job opportunity in the space of three minutes.

“Think of it as a transfer from one department to another.”

“I’d be working here?”

“From home.”

She felt adrift.

In a hazy state, she cleaned out her locker, dumping the contents into her bag.

Gregorio made no move to help or to leave the room. When she had everything, she flicked the locker door, sending it flying, and hearing it slam with a horrible, harsh, satisfying slap of metal on metal. “Bill me for damages.”

Bag slung over her shoulder, she walked back towards the front door. Gregorio followed, and it occurred to her she was being escorted out. Her pay cheque and purple wrist band lay on the check-in table.

“I’ll buy you dinner tomorrow.”

“No, thanks,” she replied. “I’ll be all right.”

“Brandy—”

“Give me some time, okay?”

He held up his hands. “You have my phone number.”

What the hell was she supposed to do now?

Her car was still outside where she’d left it. She did the only thing she could think of. She texted Margot to open a bottle of wine.

When she arrived at their home, John was in his man cave, and Margot had already poured them each a glass.

Like a good friend, Margot offered Brandy a job waiting tables. “But you’d have to wear a few more clothes than you did at the Den.”

“No she doesn’t!” John called from the other room.

“Turn up the sound on the damned television!” Margot called back.

Brandy giggled at the idea of wearing something outrageously short to work at the diner. Then she remembered the kilt that Master Niles had been excited about. She hiccoughed and her eyes filled with tears.

“You upset her!” Margot yelled to John.

“No he didn’t. I upset me.”

“Okay, explain.”

“I can’t.”

“Even better. Drink up.”

After making arrangements for the pets to be taken care of, Brandy spent the night on her friends’ couch and stayed there even when they left the house at four o’clock to open the restaurant.

When Brandy awakened at nine, the house was quiet, and she felt surprisingly good and more than a bit guilty at having slept while Margot and John had gone to work. Margot had stayed up late and listened to the story of Brandy’s woes when it came to Master Niles. And she’d heard all about Brandy’s fabulous necklace. Twice.

Brandy tidied up the living room and washed the wine glasses before driving home.

She’d spent the last two years working a tight schedule, juggling the Den while building her other business. And now the absence of a defined schedule left her aimless. Waiting tables would give her purpose and force her to get out of bed, but the idea of getting up at the same time she often went to bed made her cringe.

Later that day, restless after walking the dogs and getting food for the lizards, she returned to work on her business. Master Damien had sent an email outlining the things he’d like to see in a proposal from her.

He’d signed the email in a cordial way and said how much he was looking forward to seeing her soon. “Not likely,” she muttered.

MW jumped up and ran over, as if Brandy had spoken to him.

She moved Master Damien’s email to a projects folder so she didn’t have to look at it. She was still miffed, and he could wait a day or so for an answer. But avoiding Master Damien’s email provided all the motivation she needed to pull up a draft of Master Niles’ new website.

Since she no longer had to keep to a specific schedule, she stayed up all night and sent him a beta version of it on Thursday afternoon. And of course, she checked her email every five minutes to see if he’d replied.

When he didn’t get back to her right away, her imagination supplied a dozen different reasons why. Maybe he’d grown tired of waiting and hired someone else. Maybe he’d taken one of the willing subs to Belize with him. “Stop,” she told herself, getting up and pacing the floor.

Gregorio had told her Master Niles wasn’t shooting videos at the Den anymore.

Which, now that she thought about it, also meant he’d found someone else and gone to Belize.

For the first time since she’d walked away, she wondered what would have happened if she hadn’t left. What if she’d stayed and talked, like he wanted? What if she’d agreed when he’d said he wanted to see her again?

Her reasons for leaving were still legitimate. The two hour drive between their places was daunting enough. Having animals in his urban setting wouldn’t work. And she didn’t see such an imposing man living in her house.

She’d run in order to avoid getting her heart broken. The joke was on her. Even though they’d spent such a short time together, she’d fallen in love with him. It was hard to imagine she could be any more devastated than she was right then.

* * * *

In Brandy’s driveway, Niles turned off his car engine.

Enough was enough.

Showing up here uninvited was risky, no doubt. At one time, he’d lived on the leading edge. He’d started businesses, invested in uncertain ventures, failed a number of times, lost buckets of money then tried again. He’d given his heart to Eleanor and been crushed when he’d lost her. He had no idea how he’d endured the first few months. When he looked back, he had no recollection of the endless blur of days.

But it wasn’t like him to get stuck in a morass of pain, nor would Eleanor have expected it of him. She had urged him to live fully as a celebration of what they’d shared.

It had taken half a year for him to return to work, and even then, he hadn’t gone back fulltime.

Brandy, with her persistent questions and the way she’d brought candles into his loft, had prised apart the heart he’d thought he’d sealed shut.

He hadn’t wanted her to leave when she had. But as he’d watched her drive away, he’d told himself she was right. He’d been frank about his decision not to enter another permanent relationship. And her experiences with Reyes would give any woman cause for concern, especially a submissive with a heart as big as hers.

She needed a Dom strong enough to step up, give her freedom to be who she wanted to be, and a man strong enough to care for her in return.

It hadn’t taken him three days to figure out he appreciated the energy she brought into his life. He’d sent her the basketball tickets. When she hadn’t responded, he’d repeatedly asked about the website. He’d run out of patience, a virtue he’d always thought was overrated.

Before he knocked, he heard MW’s high-pitched yips and Dana’s howls. Whisper meandered over and wound around his legs.

Brandy opened the door and leaned against the jamb.

He saw the breath go out of her.

“Master Niles.”

“I had a few things to go over about the website.”

“You could have emailed,” she said, raking her hair back from her forehead.

“I could have.”

“Or called.”

“True.”

“Or sent a text message.”

“Also accurate.” Jesus, she looked good. Obviously she hadn’t been expecting company. She had on fuzzy pink slippers and faded-to-white jeans with a hole in one knee. Her grey sweatshirt was at least two sizes too big and did nothing to diminish his desire.

“Maybe smoke signals.”

“My fire-starting skills are a bit rusty.”

“And I’ve got the flamethrower.” Finally, she smiled.

“Can I come in?”