Mine (3 page)

Presley hugged herself, reeling in uncertainty as she saw Dmitri's jaw tighten. “I wish it weren't so, but this is the right decision for now,” Dmitri said. Turning, he addressed the Masters behind him. “Anything you'd like to add?”

Each Master—all of them dressed in black, all powerful, all strong—shook his head. The haunted expressions on their faces indicated the gravity of the situation. Presley felt the weight of it with each slow breath she took.

Dmitri lifted his shoulders and faced the crowd again. “Please gather your things and go home. I'll be in contact with you as our investigation continues, and I will inform you of any new developments.” His voice warmed slightly. “If you have any concerns, please contact me. I hope you know that I'm here for you.” When he saw nods from the members, he continued, “I promise you I'll handle this matter with the greatest care possible. It will be dealt with immediately.” Then he narrowed his eyes and, lowering his voice, gave a Dom order: “Please go home.”

It took a moment for the crowd to respond, but soon they dispersed. Presley, however, stood frozen, unable to grasp what this meant for the future. Club Sin was an extension of Dmitri. What would happen to him if the club he'd built to honor Charles was gone?

Presley was jolted out of her reverie when Cora reached for Presley's hand and exclaimed, “Oh my God! I can't believe this.”

Presley twined her fingers with Cora's, squeezing tight in an effort to hold on to some sense of normalcy. “This is awful,” she whispered.

“This could be really, really bad,” Cora said, her blue eyes wide.

An icy shiver sped down Presley's spine. She knew most members didn't have to worry. While a few submissives had teaching jobs, many of the others had standard nine-to-five jobs. Of course they wouldn't want their private lives shared, but Presley suspected the tabloid would focus on the men who stood out in the professional world in Las Vegas.

Dmitri, president of Aces Casino. Aidan, a respected defense attorney. Porter, Vegas's top private investigator. Kyler, the police chief's son and a police officer himself. Ella, Cora, and Kenzie would be exposed, too, because they had married those men. Presley suspected she'd be thrown into the mix as well, since she'd been dating Dmitri for almost two years.

Tears filled Presley's eyes as those scary thoughts and more overwhelmed her. The room had emptied, but she couldn't find the strength to move. Not because Club Sin had to close for the time being but because of Dmitri's desolate stare.

I need you. Come close,
her heart begged.

He stared right through her, though, his eyes glassy. He was so withdrawn into himself that for the first time ever, he'd become blind to her emotional state and needs. When he turned to leave the dungeon without coming to check on her, Presley's knees buckled.

“Aidan needs me,” Cora said, dragging Presley's attention away from her misery and Dmitri's despair. “I have to go. Will you be okay?”

“Yeah.”
No,
her mind screamed. She wasn't okay. Dmitri wasn't okay.

For the first time since they'd started dating, Presley had the oddest sensation that things between them weren't okay, either.

The next morning, just minutes before nine o'clock, Dmitri fastened the cuff link onto his white dress shirt, gazing at the beauty sleeping soundly in the king-size bed. Nestled under a white duvet and surrounded by more pillows than Dmitri thought necessary, Presley slept peacefully. He liked that, thinking in this mess she needed to rest. Her long blond hair draped over the pillow, the lashes of her closed eyes rested on her cheeks, and her freckled nose scrunched as she gave a soft sleepy moan.

Captured by her angelic innocence, Dmitri felt his cock flare with heat, swelling inside his pants. Presley lay on her side, the covers tangled between her legs, tempting him to return to her. An urge to rip off those covers consumed him, calling for him to settle himself between those warm thighs.

Not now.

He knew this situation couldn't wait, and he hastily reminded himself that his members counted on him to make this right. Shoving away his selfish needs to feel better than he did now, he fastened the other cuff link to his shirt, taking in Aces' Presidential Suite. Decorated with thick dark wood furniture, the richly designed space impressed him. The designer he'd recently hired had nailed his intent of giving the casino a more modern look, and the heavily detailed furniture gave the room a luxurious feel.

On one hand, he'd never been more proud of the casino and what he'd done for the company. On the other hand, he hated bringing Presley here. The thought that he'd had to bring her to the casino last night because she wasn't safe in his house made him sick to his stomach.

His chest tightened as he turned to grab his jacket off the chair, knowing that his beloved club was burning around him. He knew he should wake Presley and talk to her about all this, but he didn't want to talk about anything.

He wanted to fix the problem and make Club Sin safe again.

Determinedly he put on his jacket, giving Presley one last look before he left for the day. He sensed the distance between them now, but as much as he hated it, she couldn't be his sole focus. It was
his
job to make her life easier. It was
his
duty to ensure the safety of the Club Sin members. Until he fulfilled his responsibilities, what
he
needed must remain off in the distance.

He drew in a deep breath, going to the inner place where he went to when dealing with business. Pushing away the emotion for Presley and the sadness coursing through his veins at his failures, he exited the hotel room, leaving her behind.

Within minutes, he made it into the elevator and whizzed down to the third floor, where the casino's offices were located. The door chimed open, revealing the bright reception area with
Aces
in big black bold letters against a waterfall wall behind the reception desk.

On any other day, he might have been amused at his staff's covert eyeing of the four men waiting in the reception area, inhabiting the space as if they owned it. “Let's go into the meeting,” he said to the Club Sin Masters as they all rose to greet him.

Dmitri strode past the receptionist's desk and headed into the boardroom on the left. It came as no surprise to see his assistant, Victoria, already in the room and placing the coffeepot next to the mugs on the thick oak table. “Thank you, Victoria,” he told her softly. “Please hold all calls.”

“Of course,” Victoria said with her usual sweet smile. “Is there anything else I can get for you, sir?”

“That will be all.”

She bobbed her head in acknowledgment and then moved to the door, waiting until all the Club Sin Masters entered the room before she left, shutting the door behind her.

Dmitri poured himself a cup of coffee. As the other Masters followed his move, he took his seat at the head of the table. He took a long sip of the coffee, its warmth and hint of sugar comforting him. He lowered the mug, studying the other men sitting around the table. It seemed odd, bringing his personal and professional life together in his boardroom. All the same, it helped with the detachment. “Sarah didn't call me last night, which I take it to mean she has no other news.”

Kyler added sugar to his coffee. “I'm not sure if that's good news or not.”

Dmitri nodded and then turned to Aidan, who sat on Dmitri's right. Dark circles rested under his friend's eyes. Dmitri sympathized with his exhaustion; he'd spent most of the night on the phone with Club Sin members, trying to ease their worries. “Would a lawsuit against the tabloid help or hurt us?”

Aidan sipped his coffee, then gave an easy shrug. “While it could scare the tabloid enough to hand over the pictures, it could also cause the Streisand effect.”

Next to Kyler, Miles leaned back in his chair and blew on his coffee. “Which is?”

“If the tabloid is pissed enough about the lawsuit, they could take it to social media.” Aidan gave the rest of them a level look. “Which in turn will only give the photos and Club Sin more exposure than we want. It would be viral, everywhere.”

Dmitri agreed with a nod. “Not a chance we can take, then.”

“I don't believe so.” Aidan's lips pressed into a straight line as he tapped his fingers against the table. “I fear that it would only make the photos more visible, since the lawsuit would not only be part of the public record but possibly written up by TMZ or some rag, too.”

Dmitri sighed. “All right. Ideas?”

Kyler added another lump of sugar to his coffee before he began stirring. “Perhaps this idiot was stupid enough not to be careful and their fingerprints are on the pictures.” He raised his mug to his lips. “If any prints are found, I can run them through IAFIS and see if I get a hit.”

“That would be a good place to start,” Dmitri agreed.

Porter sipped his coffee and then added, “Once we identify who is behind this, I can start digging on my end.” As one of the best private investigators in Vegas, Dmitri figured Porter could get dirt, and a lot of it, on the culprit. “But without knowing
who
is behind it, there isn't much I can do.”

That escalated Dmitri's frustration. This was
his
club.
His
responsibility.
His
family. Yet he was helpless to resolve the debacle. He reached for his coffee and sipped, trying to fend off the icy feeling the conversation was inducing. “When will you have the fingerprints back?” he asked Kyler.

“By tomorrow, for sure,” Kyler replied, “I'll put a rush on it.”

Aidan's brow arched in obvious skepticism. “Not that I don't think this is in our best interests, but how will you be able to bring the pictures into the police lab to lift fingerprints without outing those shown in the photos?”

Kyler's inclined his head toward Miles. “I thought I would take Miles up on his offer. Since he isn't concerned about being exposed, I'll use his picture. Hopefully there will be prints on that one alone.” He added with a half shrug, “If not, I'll have to use someone else's.”

“Use mine, if you must,” Dmitri interjected without hesitation.

The Masters all looked at him as Dmitri added, “At this point this is all we have to go on. I will deal with the repercussions if it gets leaked.”

Kyler regarded Dmitri a moment before shaking his head. “I doubt that will happen. I have a good friend in CSI who will do this as a favor to me. He's trustworthy. I'm confident he'll keep this quiet.”

Miles lowered his mug to the table with a bang. “Like I said last night, stick to mine if you can. I have nothing to lose.”

Regarding Miles over the rim of his mug, Kyler said, “We'll start with Miles and hope that's all we'll need.”

“Good.” Dmitri finished the last of his coffee, then rose, pressing his hands against the table. “Before you go, tell me, how are your submissives doing?”

Kyler's cheeks flushed deep red with anger as he leaned back in his chair. “Ella is concerned, of course, but she's trusting that we'll get this handled.”

Dmitri looked at Aidan, who replied, “Cora is terrified. If this got out, it would likely cost us both our jobs.”

Dmitri nodded in understanding, feeling torn with guilt. It was
his
responsibility to ensure that none of his members felt like this. His jaw clenched with rage. “And Kenzie?” he asked Porter.

“She's pissed.” Porter hesitated, then sighed. “She's in the same position as Miles, and doesn't feel that it would affect her much if it got out. Plus Kenzie is quick with words—I don't doubt that she'd find some way to talk her way out of any situation.”

That didn't lessen the rock in Dmitri's stomach. No one should have to talk his or her way out of anything. Yet they lived in a vanilla world, where some wouldn't understand the choices they made. And Dmitri wouldn't pretend otherwise.

“How about Presley?” Miles asked, a frown marring his face. “Is she holding up well?”

“I'm not sure how she's holding up.” Dmitri let that admission sink in before he added, “I haven't had the chance to talk with her. Last night was consumed with phone calls from the members. I left her the moment we arrived in the suite and she was asleep by the time I went to bed. But I imagine she'll be concerned for all involved.” Culpability stormed him for not seeing to her comfort and concerns. But before they talked he wanted to have a plan in place. He did not want to have a conversation about this if he couldn't alleviate her worries. He needed to make this better for
her,
and for everyone in Club Sin.

Renewed in his resolve to forge ahead, he asked, “Will you encourage your submissives to visit Presley? I need to get my head into this and see what I can find out myself.” First he needed to think of anything else they might be missing and start going through lists of everyone he knew to figure out who might be a suspect. For some reason this felt
personal
, though he didn't want to share that with the group just yet. “I want to make sure she's not alone today.”

Once he received nods from the Masters, he said, “Thank you.”

“All right.” Aidan rose, glancing to Kyler. “You'll call once you hear something?”

“I will.” Kyler said with a nod. Then his gaze went to Dmitri. “What will you do once we find out
who
is behind the photos?”

Dmitri smiled, knowing that the tenseness of his expression reflected all of his anger, tension, and hatred for whoever was behind this. Nothing could undo the fact that someone planned to destroy what he had built in honor of the man Dmitri owed everything to—Charles, who had mentored Dmitri in his early days in the BDSM lifestyle. The man whom Dmitri worked under when he was first hired at Aces. Club Sin was built on Charles's memory; the thought of that being tarnished was something Dmitri could not accept. “I plan to show them just how bad an idea this was.”

The sun beamed down on Presley as she leaned against the balcony's edge, staring out at the Las Vegas strip. The flurry of activity always passed by in a blur. Surrounded by patio furniture, she shut her eyes a moment, soaking in the warmth from high in the sky. She'd woken a little after ten o'clock, discovering Dmitri had left the hotel without saying goodbye. In fact, she only knew he'd come to bed last night because his side of the bed looked slept in. He'd left her no note this morning. No texts on her phone. Nothing.

She'd called his office once, but his assistant said he wasn't accepting calls—and he
always
accepted her calls. She'd texted him twice, again with no response. Part of her wanted to go down to his office and demand he talk to her. The other part of her figured that if he wasn't returning her calls it meant he was busy. Though her heart kept replaying the same question:
Why is he too busy for me?

Done with ruminating over the same thoughts, she'd showered and ordered room service—pancakes, fruit, bacon, sausages, and eggs. Intent on eating her stress away, she'd ordered the works, figuring that if she had to live in a hotel, she might as well take advantage of it.

With a full stomach, she had ventured out to the patio, where she'd been standing for the last hour. She'd watched the tourists walking by in awe of the city, and she understood them. Not long ago she'd been there herself. God, it seemed like a lifetime had passed since she'd ended her engagement with her ex-fiancé, Steven Moser. His cheating had spurred her to join Cora at Club Sin, where she'd met Dmitri. Maybe she'd taken it all for granted just how much of a fantasy her life had become—a fantasy that deep down seemed to be coming to an end. One in which happily-ever-after didn't exist.

Possibly all those thoughts were what made her crave the comfort of home. She moved to the couch in the living room. Her throat tightened as she lowered herself onto the soft white cushions and reached for the phone on the table
.
Her mother, Jennifer, answered on the second ring. “Hi, Mom,” Presley said.

“Hello, sweetheart,” her mother replied in her soft comforting voice. “Are you not working today?”

“Nope. I'm off until Wednesday.” Presley wondered what her mother would think of the fact that she, at Dmitri's advice, had decided to work only part-time. Not that Presley didn't love being a dental hygienist, but Dmitri had gently suggested that she cut back her hours at the dental clinic, since she often worked evenings and on weekends. Now, since she worked only three days at the dental clinic, she volunteered at the animal shelter every second week for a couple of days, and that brought her more joy than cleaning teeth ever could.

While she thought her mother would understand, Presley didn't want her mom to know that she'd basically become a kept woman. Being an independent, strong woman was something her mother had ingrained into her while growing up. But Presley didn't
feel
like a kept woman; she felt like a woman loved by a man who wanted to make her life easier.