A buzzing in her ears caused Angelina to swat at empty air over her face. The buzzing sounded again. Opening an eye to see what flying pest had invaded her bedroom on this early fall morning, she found herself curled up on an unfamiliar and very hard surface. The firm arm supporting her shoulders finally registered in her addled brain.
Mio, Dio! Heat flooded her cheeks and she fought the urge to spring up and run away. Marc’s chest.
Buzzzzz.
The source of the annoying vibration registered in her head at last. Her phone. She raised up and saw her handbag sitting on the nightstand. How had it gotten in here? It sat next to a bowl of water, a washcloth inside it, a Hershey bar, and Nonna’s pattern-tracing wheel. She remembered some of the items from last night. Too bad they hadn’t gotten to the chocolate, though. Her stomach growled.
When the buzzing stopped, her attention was drawn back to Marc’s massive chest. His right forearm covered his eyes. Was he sleeping? She couldn’t tell. His breathing seemed slow, shallow.
Half sitting now, she tried to ignore the pain radiating across her shoulders and cheek, and in all of the muscles she’d used to fight off Allen’s attack last night.
She brushed her cheek against the springy hairs on his chest, which tickled the whisker-burned skin on her chin. Last night, she’d run her fingers through those soft, coarse hairs. Unable to resist, she splayed her fingers open and dove into the soft sprinkling of hair again.
Her hand gravitated to his pectoral, and she flicked a thumbnail over the pebbled nip. She felt his heartbeat kick it up a notch under her cheek. Knowing he wasn’t sleeping, she grew bolder and let her hand trail down his right side, until she brushed over what felt like puckered flesh.
Marc’s body grew tense as her fingers explored the area—about the size of a silver dollar. Raising up, she leaned over and the angry-looking pink and white scar sucked every ounce of air from her lungs. The silvery ridges on the puckered skin told of a deep and violent injury. She touched him, wincing as if she might hurt him. Tears sprang to her eyes. Here she was complaining about some minor aches and pains, when Marc had been seriously injured.
“Long time ago,” Marc said.
“What happened?” she whispered.
“Fallujah.”
Oh, God. Iraq. He’d been wounded. “Oh, Marc, I had no idea.”
“It’s nothing compared to what happened to some of the men with me.”
She scooted off him and looked into his sad green eyes. She’d reminded him of a nightmarish time in his life and now wanted to comfort him. Taking his arm, she pulled him toward her; eventually, he complied and rolled onto his side. Okay, he obviously wanted to turn, or she wouldn’t have gotten him to budge. Once there, he stared, waiting, but said nothing.
Thoughts of the pain he must have experienced when wounded caused a tear to spill from her eye. She blinked rapidly to dry her eyes. “If you ever need to talk about it, I’m a good listener.”
He remained silent, serious. She didn’t think he would say anything. Didn’t most of veterans keep their private hell to themselves or share only with those who had been there? Compelled to find some small way to honor his sacrifice and his injury, she moved his arm, exposing the scar to her gaze, then bent over and kissed the puckered skin. She heard his sudden indrawn breath as her lips touched his warm and battered skin. With the tip of her tongue, she laved the area and placed tiny kisses all around it.
His hands grabbed her upper arms and he pulled her away. He cupped her cheek and turned her face toward his. “That’s about the sweetest kiss I’ve ever received, cara.” His voice sounded husky with emotion and more tears spilled down her face. He brushed her hair back from her face and studied her as if he couldn’t quite figure her out.
Needing more intimate contact with him, she reclined facing him and leaned toward him, opening her mouth to capture his lips in an inquisitive kiss. In one fluid motion, he rolled onto his back, pulling her on top of him. Grabbing the back of her head to prevent her escape, he deepened the kiss. Just when she thought her lungs would explode, he broke away.
“Buongiorno, bella. I like how your body wakes up. Am I still your Dom this morning?”
The phone buzzed again. “I’d better get that.”
He chuckled, obviously aware of her evasion to his question. Was he still her Dom? Did she want him to be? Did he? Oh, God. He’d be leaving soon. Better that they just put the whole Dom/sub thing behind them.
She reached over to pick up her handbag, but the buzzing stopped by then. She realized it had been voicemail, not an incoming call. Still, she needed to see who called. She didn’t have any catering jobs this week and sure could use one. Opening the handbag, she retrieved the phone, glancing down to see it had been Mama.
She laid it on the nightstand when Marc’s hand cupped her left breast and squeezed the nipple until it swelled, distracting her. He wrapped his arm around her back and rolled them both over until their positions were reversed and he propped himself above her chest on his elbows. As he had done last night, his lower body pressed hers into the mattress. His erection, very much concealed in his pants, bobbed against her mons.
Marc hadn’t even come yet. What was he waiting for? Several times she’d offered to take care of his needs, but each time he had stopped her.
Her heart constricted with regret. He and Luke had made her feel safe for the first time in seven years—and sexually alive for the first time in…forever. How cruel was fate to give her a glimpse of such carnal deliciousness, only to sentence her to a life of sexual blandness?
Marc pinched her right nipple, reclaiming her attention, and her clit throbbed its response, eagerly awaiting his further ministrations. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
“That I’m going to miss you and Luke when you’re gone.” She closed her eyes. No sense wondering about what could have been. She was a pragmatist—and she wasn’t going to Denver. Between Papa’s death on the mountain there and her disastrous trip to the fetish club with Allen, the city held nothing but bad memories. If she’d trusted her instincts and stayed away last month, she wouldn’t have suffered at Allen’s hands.
Marc bit her nipple. “Ow! What was that for?”
“You were thinking unpleasant thoughts again.”
Angelina rubbed her nipple. There were some things she wouldn’t miss about Marc. He was dictatorial, domineering…
Attentive, adorable.
Whoa! Marc? Adorable? She really needed more sleep. Well, she had the whole afternoon to nap after they left. This morning, she didn’t want to miss a thing by sleeping. But she needed to call Mama back. And find a toothbrush. And make them breakfast. And take a shower. Not necessarily in that order.
Marc’s hand returned to stroking her breast. The man certainly had a fixation. He bent down to take her nipple in his mouth, his teeth trapping the base of the swollen button as his tongue flicked over the sensitive tip rapidly. She inhaled sharply, grabbing the sides of his head, then held her breath. Her clit throbbed, answering his tongue stroke for stroke.
She closed her eyes, giving in to the sensations. “Oh, God.”
He released her nipple and when he didn’t go further, she looked down at him. He glanced up and smiled. “I’ll never get my fill of your breasts.”
His words suffused her with warmth from the top of her head to her curled toes. She still couldn’t get used to the fact he found her so sexy. Of course, he’d have to get his fill very soon, because he’d be leaving in a few hours.
Sobered by the thought, she gave him a nudge. “I need to make a call.”
He sighed and rolled off of her and she moved to sit up on the side of the bed. Ow! She couldn’t stop the groan that escaped. The pain in her shoulders at the exertion brought her hands up to massage the tender muscles. Marc knelt behind her and brushed her hands and hair aside. He gently, but firmly, eased the tense and knotted muscles, careful to avoid the bruises.
She sighed and picked up the phone again. “I really do need to call Mama back,” she said, hitting a speed-dial number.
* * *
Marc smiled and pinched her nipples again for good measure. He’d bide his time.
“Hi, Mama.”
He let his fingers trace a path down her sexy back. He’d first been turned on by this view last month at the club. The catch in her voice as she chatted with her mama made him smile. She waved him away several times, like a pesky fly. She might want to ignore or dismiss him, but he chose to ignore her wishes at the moment. His time as her Dom was dwindling and his fleeting sub deserved his undivided attention.
“I was in the shower, Mama. Sorry I missed your calls.”
Ah. Lying to her mama. Not acceptable. Marc would find it difficult to respect a woman who would lie to her mama. Especially an Italian mama.
Time for some fun and games. Scooting back on the mattress, he got on his knees and positioned himself behind her, leaning forward and trailing kisses down her spine. When he brushed his lips and scruff against her love handle, she jumped. He loved playing with her ticklish areas.
He continued to explore her body, licking the dimple at the base of her back. She scooted away toward the edge. Kneeling upright again, he moved closer and skimmed his fingertips over her shoulders and down her arms. The bruising on her shoulders had darkened overnight. His gut twisted as his anger toward Sir Asshole sprung to life again. But he tamped that emotion down—for now. The man would be taken care of in due time. Right now, his focus should be on Angelina and her needs.
“Yeah, I went to bed early last night, Mama. Rough day.”
Yes, and she also was too tied up to return your call, Mama.
That she was still able to carry on a normal conversation, told him he wasn’t paying close enough attention to her. He needed to ramp it up. Placing one leg on either side of her again, he positioned his hips against her backside and adjusted his erect cock against the crack of her ass. Too bad he still wore his pants. If not, he would definitely have had her squirming.
When she tried to stand up to get away from him, he wrapped one arm around her waist, holding her in place. He brushed his lips lightly over one of her bruises. She gasped and Marc pulled back. Had he hurt her? His thumb reached around to feel her erect nipple and he smiled. No, she probably hadn’t gasped in pain.
“It was nothing, Mama. I’m fine. I, um, just saw a spider, that’s all.”
Marc’s fingers danced a mock Tarantella from her elbow to her shoulders and then along the long, slim column of her neck before gliding down to cup her breast. She leaned back against him, throwing her head back to give him better access.
Ah, I have you now, my pet.
He released her waist, no longer concerned she would flee, and brought that hand up to cup her other breast.
“Sorry, Mama. I can’t make dinner today. Um, I have to work.”
He pinched her nipples hard for lying to her mama and her thighs clamped together in response. Did her mother hear that sexy hitch in her breathing?
“I know. But, something’s come up.”
Marc’s cock throbbed against her ass. Well, she wasn’t lying to her mama about that.
“I have to go to, uh…Denver today…for a class.”
Marc grinned. That could be arranged. His playroom certainly could be converted easily for a classroom scene. He already had the principal’s desk in there.
“No, I’ll be gone all week.”
Thoughts of her restrained on his spanking horse sent his cock into spasms. She pressed her ass against him in an automatic response, before scooting away again, closer to the edge of the bed.
“I promise I’ll be there next Sunday. Tell the boys hi for me.”
He slid his right hand down over her mons and his fingers slipped between the folds to encircle her clit. “Oh, yesss! I mean, yes, I will, Mama.” She tried to elbow him away. “Love you, too. Bye.”
He pulled his hand back. Why was he trying to start something with her this morning. Their “demonstration” was over. What had gotten into him? She wouldn’t be in his playroom, today or ever. He just needed to get her to a safe place. Maybe he should make sure she stayed with Luke. It would give the two of them a chance to get to know each other better.
Now why did that thought bother him?
She disconnected the call and stood up, spinning around to glare down at him, gritting her teeth. “There’s a special place in hell for a man who would seduce a woman while she’s talking to her mama.”
“Oh, I assure you, il diavolo long ago reserved a special place for me, bella, for sins far worse than that one.”
Memories of the fight he and Gino had had before his older brother deployed to Afghanistan flashed across his mind. He’d let a woman come between him and his own brother—and had never seen his brother alive again. A sin he’d never be forgiven for.
He didn’t need to add one more to the list. Angelina deserved better than him. Yet, no sooner had the thought flashed across his brain than he reached up to catch her, pulling her onto his chest as he lay down. He rolled them until he lay on his left side and she on her back, then draped his leg over hers to keep her in place. Spreading her knees, he buried his middle finger into her pussy. She gave a breathless gasp as she tossed the phone to the bottom of the bed.
Dio, she was wet. He wet his thumb in her juices and slid it up to her clit, making slow, circular motions. Her pelvis bucked against his hand. The urge to bury himself inside her gripped him. He took a deep breath and tamped down his desire. Hearing her breathing increase, he rammed his finger inside her harder. Then two fingers.
“Oh, yes, Marc. Don’t stop!”
“How do you address me?”
She gasped for breath and opened her eyes. “You’re not my Dom now. Are you?”
There was a certain wishfulness in her question, which pleased him.
Shit. She’d done it again, slipped under his defenses. He didn’t need a sub. He just needed to keep this woman safe. He needed to get her to Denver.
“Cara, I was pleased to hear you tell your mama you will come to Denver with us today.” His thumb encircled her clit again.
“Oh, I didn’t mean it. I just needed to give Mama a plausible excuse.” Her voice hitched as he felt her clit harden. “No one misses Mama’s Sunday dinners. But I still can’t go to Denver with you.”
“I am very disappointed in you, pet.” He felt her body tense against his and she opened her eyes, furrowing her brows. He fought the urge to grin at her stricken expression. She’d make some Dom a fine submissive someday.
“I am not your submissive.”
“Are you trying to convince yourself or me?”
She glanced away.
I’m sorry I can’t be what you need, cara.
“But if you don’t come to Denver for the week, you will have lied to your Mama. For that, while I’m still your Dom, I will have to punish you even more severely than I did just a few hours ago.”
* * *
Angelina’s attention was riveted once more to Marc’s gaze. Punish her? Was he serious? She wasn’t a child. Yet, her clit pulsed to life as she contemplated how he would punish her. Another spanking? Bare-handed or using an implement like a paddle, belt, or hairbrush? Or perhaps depriving her of the mind-blowing orgasms she’d been experiencing since last night? Or even torturing her with a rapid succession of orgasms?
Well, she’d read enough BDSM novels to know the possibilities were endless. Some involved pain. Some involved depriving a sub of something she wanted. Others, humiliation. And why did she feel her pussy contracting and getting even wetter just thinking about his punishing her again?
But he’s not my Dom!
Her conscience battled silently. She’d never lied to Mama before.
Mama would understand this time.
No, Marc’s right. You can’t lie to your mama.
Oh, God. She knew she needed to lay low for a week or so until things blew over with Allen. But she had no place to stay in Denver. No way was she moving in with Marc or Luke for a week. This weekend was extremely out of character for her. She’d never slept with a man in this bed before, for starters.
And certainly had never been tied to Nonna’s bed with real or imaginary restraints—or both. Would she be able to go back to her safe, normal life after they left? Did she even want to? But why did they have to live in Denver, of all places? She’d managed to avoid Denver, except for that one disastrous nighttime visit last month, for seven years.
No, she wasn’t going to Denver.
“I’m not sure I even want to know what all just went through that busy mind of yours, pet. You exhaust me trying to read your conflicting expressions.”
Ah, so that’s how he knew what she was thinking so often.
She breathed a heavy sigh. “Marc, if I show up at Mama’s with a bruised cheek—something I can’t hide as easily as the bruises on my shoulders—my brothers will be all over me to identify who hit me. I don’t want any—or more likely all—of them going to jail defending my honor. They’re Old World that way.”
Marc brushed her hair away from her shoulder and breast. “As am I, cara.”
She narrowed her gaze at him to see if he were serious. “I told you I don’t want you or Luke going after Allen, either. I’ve taken care of him.”
He smiled in an enigmatic way that gave her zero confidence he’d paid any attention to her warning. Dio, save me from overprotective men, especially of the Italian variety.
Maybe if she agreed to go to Denver with them, she could diffuse the situation. Surely they’d forget about going after Allen in a week’s time. And her brothers wouldn’t accidently learn about the attack.
A sudden thought occurred to her. Had Luke slept in the living room last night—or had he gone after Allen? Macho Texans weren’t any less overprotective of women than were Italians.
“Where did Luke sleep last night?”
Momentarily surprised by the question, he answered finally, “The wingback chair in the living room. Why?”
She didn’t see any indication he was lying to her. If he were going to lie, wouldn’t he say the sofa? Who would sleep in a chair? And didn’t Marc say that Doms do not lie to their subs?
But he’s not my Dom!
Or was he? Mio Dio, she realized he’d been in control of her emotions, her body, sometimes even her thoughts, since last night.
And, dear Lord, she’d enjoyed it.
The thought of her boring, vanilla life stretching out before her turned her stomach. She knew what she wanted and how to get it.
Angelina wrenched herself away from him and scooted off the other side of the bed. “Excuse me a minute.” She walked around the bed and picked up her phone, then walked into the bathroom.
Five minutes later, she returned to find Marc still lying in bed, his arm flung over his eyes. The angry scar on his side caused an ache in her heart making her want to kiss it better, but she knew she couldn’t.
He turned and looked up at her, then quirked an eyebrow at her. The expression sent butterflies loose in her tummy. God, he was handsome.
Steeling herself, she announced, “Let’s join Luke in the kitchen and get something to eat. It’s going to be a long drive.”
“You’re coming with us.” It wasn’t a question.
“Yes, but only because I want to learn more about BDSM and being submissive.” She paused, then went in for the kill. “I want you to be my Dom this week…Master.”
He stared at her as if she’d blindsided him with a two-by-four to the temple. She wasn’t sure why, but she knew that one night as his submissive wasn’t enough. She wanted to know more. And she wanted Marc to be the one to teach her. Well, for the most part.
After some kind of internal battle, he nodded, his expression grim. “Very well, pet. But you won’t be staying with me in Denver. Luke will have that honor.”
Angelina smiled, but didn’t correct him. She knew exactly where she would be staying—the perfect place to face her demons and learn more about BDSM.
He swung his legs over the side of the bed and towered over her. “The first rule you need to learn—never address me as Master again.”
* * *
Marc enjoyed having Angelina’s head resting on his shoulder most of the drive to Denver. He looked down at her, watching her breasts jiggle in the vee of her blouse as the SUV bounced along. She’d fallen asleep soon after they’d left Aspen Corners and, if he were smart, he’d have gotten some shut-eye himself.
But his head—both of them, to be honest—refused to give him any rest. Her turning the tables on him this morning still rankled him. He couldn’t turn her down because he needed to get her out of Denver. But calling him Master couldn’t have put a bigger damper on the words she’d just spoken—that she wanted him to train her.
She didn’t mean anything by it, though, he realized quickly.
He looked at her eyelashes fanned beneath her eyes. Having her so close and not being able to do anything about it, drove his cock to distraction. Which, of course, short-circuited his other head. Nothing to do on this ride but think about her, because he and Luke didn’t want to talk and disturb her sleep.
But they’d be entering the city limits soon, so she’d have to wake up soon anyway. He reached over and began stroking her thigh. She moaned in her sleep. His cock grew even harder, if that were possible.
“Mmm,” Angelina spread her thighs apart and let her head loll against the back of the seat. Her eyes remained closed, giving the appearance she was sleeping, but he knew she was faking. Well, he knew one thing she’d better not fake with him this week. His fingers glided along her velvety skin of her inner thighs until he reached the short curls covering her pussy.
Very good, pet. No panties.
He just realized her pussy had been clean-shaven at the club a month ago. She’d let it grow out since. He’d prefer to see her clean shaven. Marc slid his middle finger between her folds and into her wet opening. She gasped as he entered her without hindrance. Dio, she was so wet for him already. He withdrew his finger and drew circles around the hood of her clit. Her breathing grew more shallow and rapid.
“Who is touching you?”
“Marc,” she whispered, her eyes remaining closed.
His finger stopped its motion. “Wrong answer, pet.”
She grimaced in frustration, opened her eyes, and her sleepy gaze met his. “Sir.”
His gut clenched at the word. God, he hadn’t thought he would hear her say it again after their demonstration had ended. “Tell me what you need, bella.”
“More.”
“More what?”
“Marc, please.” Her frustration grew.
“What did you call me?”
“Sir!” She ground the word out, which didn’t please him at all. “You know what I need.”
“Doms can’t read minds. Now, tell me—respectfully.”
She groaned, but needed to learn to respond properly to a Dom’s questions. Most couldn’t read minds. Bodies, yes, especially hers. Dio, she was so expressive.
“I need you to touch me, Sir. Faster.”
“The speed is not up to you, Amore, but your Dom. Touch you where?”
“There.”
“Where?”
“My clit!”
He needed to work on her lack of proper respect, so he stopped and waited.
She sighed. “Sir, please touch my clit, Sir.”
Better. He smiled as he thought of how her sandwiching her request between two sirs reminded him of boot camp. Sir, yes, sir! He wondered if she would want to have another scene with Luke. He really needed to get the man into the game, if she truly was meant for him, according to his dream the other night.
But he’d worry about Luke later. His finger resumed its movement, increasing the speed he massaged the sides of her clit, remaining outside her hood. Her breathless panting and gattina mewling told him she approached the crest. She leaned back against the seat and tilted her pelvis upward to give him easier access. He wet his thumb at her entrance, then slid two fingers inside her, positioning his thumb over her engorged clit and his fingers on her G-spot.
“Oh, God, yes!”
This seemed as good a time as any to spell out a few more rules for exactly what he expected of Angelina this week.
“You will not come without permission, pet.”
She opened her eyes, which held the glazed look of a woman about to reach an orgasm. Confused by the interruption, she asked, “What?”
“Just like last night, you will have to ask for permission to come, or be told by me when to come, or you will be punished. This time, I want you to ask.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“Wrong question.” He halted the motion of his fingers and thumb and her pussy muscles clenched around his fingers in frustration. “I assure you I would never joke about something as important as my toy’s orgasms.”
She shrugged. “Okay. Sir, can I come?”
He’d definitely have to work on her attitude. Not to mention her grammar. Why was it Americans slaughtered their own language? “May I come?” he corrected her.
“What!?” His fingers remained motionless inside her. She tried to move against his hand.
“Remain still.”
She stopped moving and surrendered with a sigh. “May I come?”
“Sir,” he reminded.
She looked over at Luke, as if he would rescue her. Luke shrugged. “Sorry, darlin’. That stuff’s between you two.”
She looked back at Marc and groaned, her frustration evident. “Sir, may I come? Now!”
“Are you topping from the bottom?”
“No, actually, I’m begging from the bottom. Damn it, Sir Marc. Let Me Come!”
“You two are making it damned hard for me to keep this vehicle on the road,” Luke complained. His knuckles whitened as he held onto the steering wheel with a death grip.
Marc laughed, but his focus quickly returned to Angelina’s training. She had a lot to learn about how to speak respectfully to a Dom. But learn she would.
“You’ll be punished for speaking to your Dom in that tone.” Marc felt her vaginal muscles spasm around his fingers and he smiled. The thought of being disciplined aroused her, whether she fully accepted the idea of enjoying punishment or not.
“Sir, please. I need to come! Please don’t bring me this close again and leave me hanging.”
He heard the need in her voice. Yet, her request to come was far from where he wanted it. His fingers remained still.
“When you obey, you’ll find your experiences will be much more pleasurable.”
She bit her lower lip, taking slow, deep breaths, trying to regain self-control. Damn her and that tight rein she kept on herself. But he could wait. He watched her breasts rise and fall. Lovely. Yes, he could enjoy this view all day.
“Please, Sir, may I come?” she pleaded sweetly.
He smiled. Much better. “Yes, pet.” With his free hand, he reached up and pinched her right nipple—hard—then rolled her nub. Her pussy muscles clenched around his fingers and he resumed pumping in and out of her pussy, stimulating her G-spot, as his thumb rubbed her erect clit.
“Come. Now.”
“Oh, yes!” She reached out to grab his and Luke’s thighs and hung on for dear life. Her pelvis bucked against his hand as she crested, then tumbled over the peak. “Yesssss! Mio Dio! I’m coming!”
But of course you are. I permitted it.
He smiled as she flew apart for him. When her quivering pussy settled down to sporadic spasms, she looked over at Marc and smiled. “Thank you, Sir.” After a short pause, she added, “May I have another?”
Marc laughed loud and long. Absolutely enchanting. Not to mention totally bratty. He was going to have such fun correcting her misbehavior. He regretted not letting her stay with him, but knew that he’d still have time with her this week.
He grinned and leaned over to kiss her, when her eyes opened wide and she scooted her ass further back on the bench seat.
“Oh!” Angelina reached on the floorboard to retrieve her purse and pulled out a piece of paper. “I almost forgot to tell you where to drop me off.”
Marc’s fingers pulled out of her pussy. “What do you mean, pet? You’re staying with Luke, of course.”
“Look, I like you both a lot and look forward to seeing you this week, but I’m not moving in with either of you, even for a week.”
Marc had no intention of leaving her with someone he didn’t know could protect her. One of the reasons he’d chosen Luke’s place over his, apart from the intimacy issue, was that Luke worked from a shop in the garage of his townhouse. He’d be home tomorrow, while Marc had to lead a group of high-school reunion friends on a day hike to Summit Lake on Mt. Evans.
“Anyway, I made the arrangements to stay with a friend in the Five Points area. You told me I couldn’t lie to Mama, Marc, so I called her this morning and asked if she’d like me to give her cooking classes in exchange for a place to stay. She agreed.”
Angelina handed him the piece of paper. “Can you give Luke directions? I don’t know Denver very well.”
Marc hadn’t seen this coming. Rattled, he accepted the paper and looked at the address. He blinked and looked at the words again. Angelina wanted them to drop her off at the Masters at Arms club?
Oh, shit. This couldn’t be good.
Marc needed to get a message to Adam telling him not to recognize him or Luke. And how was he supposed to clue Luke in not to mention their involvement in the club? Why didn’t he just come clean now about being the dungeon monitor who failed her that night? Hell, no, because he wanted to make it up to her first. For reasons he couldn’t explain to himself, he didn’t want her to see him as a failure.