Angelina watched Marc pull out his smart phone, still holding onto the club’s address. She was glad the building didn’t have a neon sign out front proclaiming it to be a kink club. Karla had told her to go to the private entrance. Maybe Marc and Luke wouldn’t realize what went on inside the place by looking at the exterior. Could she get them to just drop her off at the door without going in?
He held the phone in such a way that she couldn’t see what he was doing. Probably checking for directions.
“I can put the address in the GPS here, if you like,” she offered, pointing to the device mounted on the dash.
“No, that won’t be necessary,” Marc said. “I already…I have an app on here.”
More and more houses and condos began popping up as they drove through Littleton. The closer they came to Denver, the faster her heart beat. She was looking forward to seeing Karla again, but wished her newfound friend didn’t live in the very place she’d been beaten by Allen. Of course, she knew Karla lived in the private living quarters, so she’d just avoid the downstairs club area and stick to the safer rooms in the house.
Like the kitchen. She couldn’t wait to see what it would look like. She hoped there was decent equipment, but what were the chances a club like that would have a gourmet kitchen? She’d have to make do.
Despite her best efforts, she couldn’t keep her mind from wandering back to that awful night last month or to Allen’s brutal attack Friday night She shuddered.
“Cold?” Luke reached for the heater control and turned it up.
“Thanks.” Hardly, but she didn’t intend to explain she’d been thinking of Allen. The sooner Marc and Luke forgot about him, the better. Maybe by next weekend the whole incident will have blown over and she could get her life back.
Marc wrapped his arm around her and pulled her closer to his side. She cuddled against him, struck once more by how safe he made her feel. Maybe there was something to be said for a dominant man. At least you knew where you stood. Marc said he’d never hurt her. While the spanking had hurt like hell, he’d intermingled the pain with pleasure. When he had semi-restrained her, he’d done nothing but provide her with the most diabolical orgasm known to woman. He seemed to only want to please her.
What’s not to love about that?
Whoa! Nobody said anything about love. This was sex and submission, nothing more. At least, she hoped there would be sex this time.
What would it be like to submit to Marc—truly submit—not just playing like they were now. Well, she was playing; she wasn’t so sure about Marc. How did he plan to punish her, she wondered. She’d downloaded enough e-books with BDSM themes to know Marc hadn’t even begun to torment her body with the many techniques, equipment, and toys available to the avid enthusiasts. And he was nothing if not avid.
Was he into public scenes? The thought of returning to the club’s playroom made her stomach churn. The room Allen had taken her to was more like a dungeon than a playroom, although she knew from her novels that a true dungeon was much scarier.
She’d spent years trying to become independent and to take charge of her life. With Allen, she’d only agreed to submit because she wanted to spice things up and see what all the fuss was about in her books. She’d felt nothing the few times they’d had vanilla sex. Then Marc and Luke had shown her how fantastic sex could be.
But Marc would want more than her body to submit. He’d want her mind—and maybe a bit of her soul. That was more than she was willing to give a man.
“What are you thinking so hard about, pet?”
“Lots of things.”
“Choose one and tell me.”
“Do all kink clubs have a dungeon?”
He laughed robustly. “Now, if I’d known you were thinking about kink clubs and dungeons, I’d have asked you to share more than one thought.”
“I’m just curious.”
“Yes, gattina mia. You are that.” He chuckled, then stroked her bare thigh in an affectionate way. “It is one of the traits I love most about you.”
The mention of the word love scared her at first, but of course, he didn’t mean love like that. She relaxed. No ties. Well, not the emotional ones, anyway.
“I don’t know about all clubs, but the one I…the ones I’ve been to usually do. But it’s in an area not accessible to any but those who are looking for one.”
She shuddered at the thought of what went on in the dungeon. Did the Masters at Arms have a dungeon?
“What would someone do in a dungeon?”
“Don’t worry, pet. You aren’t going to be visiting a dungeon anytime soon—if ever. Not with this Dom, at least.”
Angelina released the breath she’d been holding and relaxed against him again. She realized she had no clue what Marc expected to gain from this week’s lessons, but was too afraid to ask. Was he into having a woman be subservient to him twenty-four/seven, or only in the bedroom? And living room? And kitchen? And any other room in which he chose to make her obey?
How could she be an obedient submissive twenty-four/seven? She had no desire to submit to anyone that way. She got tired of Marc telling her what to do after a while. But she enjoyed hearing him tell her she had pleased him. Was that only because she wanted to avoid punishments like the spanking she’d received? How would she handle something more intense than that? She’d better stay on his good side this week, whenever they were together, at least. Well, starting now. She was already in trouble.
If she spoke her safe word, would he merely end the scene—or could they just hit pause? Marc hadn’t really said what the consequences would be. She should ask him. Clarify things. Why was talking about sex so hard? Still…
“Marc? I mean, Sir?”
Marc’s arm pulled her even closer to him and he placed his chin on the top of her head. She smiled, apparently having pleased him by remembering to use his title. “Yes, Amore?”
Her heart fluttered at the endearment. “Um…” Oh, why hadn’t she just keep her mouth shut?
“What is it, pet? Did you have a question?”
Why couldn’t he just read her thoughts like the Doms in romances novels sometimes did? She took a deep breath. “Yes, Sir. I was wondering…what would happen if I used my safe word?”
“The scene would stop immediately.”
“What if…what if I just wanted to pause and regroup?”
“Ah, you can designate a word for that, as well. Many use ‘yellow,’ like the traffic light. No, it doesn’t mean floor it like some drivers interpret the yellow.”
She smiled at his analogy. “Then what happens?”
“Whether you used red or yellow, we would stop and discuss what you’re feeling and how we might adjust the scene to either continue or plan a future scene to make it less overwhelming.”
“So, you wouldn’t stop…um, being my Dom, if I used my safe word?”
Marc leaned back and cupped her chin to turn her face toward his. He smiled as if indulging a child. “No, pet. You’ve asked me to train you this week. I am committed to you during that time. Until I get to know you and your body better, I won’t know all of your limits. I can only learn those by your being honest with me and telling me when you’ve reached one, so that I can pull back and renegotiate the scene. Communication is the most important tool in a Dom/sub relationship. You must always be honest with me.”
His pupils dilated as he spoke, causing her breathing to hitch. Thoughts of giving up control and being dominated by him should have had her grabbing for the door handle to throw herself onto the side of the road and escape. Instead, she felt her clit throb as mental images flashed through her mind of herself kneeling before Marc, head bowed, waiting to be told how to please him.
Angelina thought he was going to kiss her, but he bent down and placed a chaste kiss on her forehead instead.
“Almost there.” Luke’s announcement interrupted her thoughts, and she broke away from Marc. She wondered if she’d see Luke this week. Considering he hadn’t been able to even make eye contact with her this morning, that seemed unlikely. Was he upset that she’d spent most of the night with Marc? She should explain to him the arrangement she had with Marc was strictly as a student of BDSM. No strings, no romantic attachments. Somehow, Luke seemed the more stable of the two.
But Luke confused her. Last night, she’d thought he was interested in her. The way he’d brought her to her first orgasm in forever made her squirm in her seat again. However, his constantly pulling away from her since then made her want to employ some domination tactics of her own. An image of Luke stretched out on the cross where she’d been flogged came to her mind, only he was facing away from the cross. The cross didn’t seem so intimidating with him on it.
She was certain he would never agree to something like that, even if she could so picture him there. Still, he certainly wouldn’t be able to run away from her there. She giggled.
“What’s so funny, pet?”
“That’s for me to know and you to find out.”
“Are you keeping secrets from me, cara?” His tone grew very serious.
“Actually, this is more a secret from Luke.” She felt both Marc and Luke tense. Angelina laid her head in the crook of Marc’s arm and shoulder and laid her hand on Luke’s thigh, looking ahead as they drove through a residential area with very expensive homes. Before she had time to explore that fantasy any further, Marc got a text message he read.
“Luke, maybe you should stop for gas.”
“No, we’re good.”
“I really need to hit the head.”
“Well, why didn’t you just say so?”
“Trying to show some class around a lady.”
She smiled, finding it humorous Marc could talk in great detail about sex, BDSM, and her girly bits, but then became embarrassed to talk about the call of nature.
“Besides, I need to show you the route map to where Angelina’s staying.”
A few minutes later, Luke pulled into a gas station and up to one of the pumps. She guessed he decided to fill up after all. They both got out, but Angelina stayed inside to just chill. The closer they got to the club, the more on edge she became. She lay her head back against the bench seat and closed her eyes.
How much further? She wanted to get there—and at the same time to never go there again. This was going to be a roller-coaster week for her emotions.
* * *
“She wants to go where?” Luke’s laughter only pissed Marc off even more. He knew he needed to tell Angelina who he was, but after all his talk about honesty, he’d sure dug himself a deep hole. Until he could figure out the best way to explain his reasons for perpetuating this lie of omission, he planned to keep his mouth shut. But, just as Luke had felt the need to confess to him this morning, Marc needed to let him know what was going on, if for no other reason than to keep Angelina from finding out before he was ready to come clean.
“There’s something you need to know.” Marc waited for Luke to stop laughing. “Angelina and I met before—at the club.”
“What are you talking about? She sure didn’t act like she knew you.”
“She doesn’t remember me. She was in a bad place when I rescued her from an abusive scene. So she didn’t recognize me—and I didn’t fill in the memory lapse.”
“Why not?”
Well, if I knew that, I’d probably tell her.
“When it started out, there was no need to dredge up bad memories. I didn’t think I’d see her beyond that night at the bar. Then we went to dinner at her house and, you know what happened when we found her.” Marc ran a hand over his face. “Look, I’m going to find a way to tell her. Just not right now.”
“What about Adam? Is he in on the lie?”
Marc cringed inwardly at the word, but knew it was nothing less than a lie. “He knows. He’s not too happy about my asking him to play a part in it. We may have to stick around at Adam’s for a while after we drop her off so he can read me the riot act. He’s been anxious to do so for a while now. I just handed him a full clip of ammo.”
Adam’s “WTF R U doing lying to her?” message left it clear he was in for a royal reaming out by his former top sergeant. Maybe he’d feel better afterward. With any luck, Adam would know how he could extricate himself from the situation without damaging Angelina’s trust in him…or, more importantly, a future Dom.
“Adam’s going to talk with Angelina’s friend, Karla, too. She was hired to sing at the club a few months back.” Marc could just imagine how thrilled Adam was to have to talk to Karla, too. How the two could sleep across the hall from each other and barely speak boggled the mind. But, yeah, Marc was in for the royal treatment, all right.
But having her stay here was worth it. She’d be safe at the club from Asshole, who’d been banned from the premises. Even if the bastard pursued her to Denver, this would be the last place he’d expect to find her. Marc wouldn’t have let her stay with a friend anywhere else in town, but he knew Adam would protect her as well as Marc could. Maybe even better, because he was retired.
They returned to the cab of the SUV and minutes later were pulling onto the street where the club was located. The area must have started to look familiar to Angelina.
“Karla said to use the back entrance.”
Marc gave Luke directions as if he were reading them off his phone screen—as if he weren’t totally aware of where he was headed.
A minute later, Luke pulled into a short driveway behind the two-and-a-half story Victorian mansion. The black wrought-iron fencing and gates gave the red brick, rectangular building a militaristic look that suited the club’s theme. On the second floor, a wrought-iron balcony surrounded Adam’s private patio. A formidable presence drew Marc’s attention in that direction, where he saw Adam, standing like a ship’s captain at his helm. He was beyond pissed, given his stance with his hands fisted on his hips. When the man turned and walked away, Marc steeled himself for the reaming out to come.
“Angie!” Karla ran down the back porch steps to greet Angelina. She wore a lacy black corset that barely contained her breasts and bounced to a stop just short of wrapping Angelina in a bear hug. Suddenly shy, Karla took her guest’s hands between hers in greeting instead. “I’m so glad you’re going to stay here this week.”
While Adam purchased her stage wardrobe, he didn’t have much say about what she wore in her off hours. But did she dress like this all the time? If so, was the man dead and had just forgotten to fall over?
Marc had never seen Karla quite so exuberant before. He didn’t realize how being surrounded by three serious former military men wasn’t exactly conducive to much of a fun social life for her. She acted so mature and somber most of the time, he’d forgotten she was only twenty-five, probably about the same age as Angelina.
Marc wondered how much younger Angelina was than his own thirty-three years. He watched as Angelina gave Karla a hug, Italians being more demonstrative. The two sure hit it off quickly in the short time they’d known each other last month.
Marc wished he had his arms around Angelina right now. Touching her. Tying her to…something. Just when was he supposed to start her training—and where?
“What happened to your eye?” Karla looked over at Marc as if she were ready to deck him.
What had he ever done to make her think him capable of hitting a woman? He knew she didn’t think much of the BDSM activities at the club, but that was a low blow, pun intended.
Angelina laughed at their expressions. “No, Marc and Luke rescued me. It was an old boyfriend. The one Master Adam escorted from the club during my last visit.”
“Oh, my God! What a horrible man! I hope he’s in jail now.”
Angelina looked down at the ground. “No, but I took care of him. Between the chin jab that broke his nose and, well, a foot to the groin, he won’t be bothering me again.”
“Oh, sounds like you’ve had some self-defense training, too. Adam made me take martial arts before I went to college in New York City.”
“I thought you only just met.”
“Oh, we corresponded since I was sixteen.” A shadow crossed her face. Clearly, times weren’t as good as when they were pen pals.
Luke went to the back of the SUV to retrieve Angelina’s suitcase and Marc hung back, waiting for Angelina to “introduce” them to her friend, but Karla took the initiative and came over to extend her hand to Marc.
“Hi, I’m Karla.” He caught an almost imperceptible wink. Obviously, Adam had let her in on the ruse. He breathed a sigh of relief. Now why did it just add to his guilt to bring an innocent into his lie? Why didn’t he just come clean and have a big laugh about the whole thing once they got inside?
He took her hand and shook it. “Marc D’Alessio. Nice to meet you.”
“And my apologies for thinking the wrong thing about Angelina’s black eye. I have no tolerance for men who abuse women.”
When Luke joined them, Marc introduced him to Karla for real because Luke hadn’t been to the club since Karla arrived.
A gruff voice from the back door caught everyone’s attention. Marc looked up to see Adam standing at the back door. “Come in and take a load off. Karla’s made dinner for everyone.”
Shit. So much for getting this over quickly. Marc turned his attention back to the ladies and motioned for them to go first. Luke fell into step before him and Marc brought up the rear, making his way up the wooden steps and across the porch. Adam stood by the door, greeting everyone as they went inside.
Marc appreciated the warm greeting and smile he gave Angelina, at least. She probably felt very uncomfortable being back here.
“Glad to have you back for a visit, hon,” he said to her. She smiled up at Adam, thanked him, and walked into the kitchen.
Adam glanced down at Karla as she walked by not looking up at him, his smile pained. She didn’t say a word to him. Maybe Angelina could bring the two of them together this week so they could at least co-exist without all the tension.
Next in the procession, Luke greeted Adam and whispered something Marc couldn’t hear, causing Adam to nod and glance toward Marc. Coming to stand nearly at attention before his former top sergeant, Marc endured the man’s brutal stare.
He’d do anything in the world before disappointing this man. But he’d not only disappointed Adam, he’d put him and Karla in an uncomfortable position.
Without preamble, Adam asked, “Who hit her?”
“Sir Asshole, or dickwad, as you called him, attacked her Saturday night. I brought her to Denver to keep her away from him, but the police can’t do anything unless he violates the protection order.” Adam growled. No, he wouldn’t have to worry about Adam keeping an eye on her while Marc was working. “I’ll fill you in later.”
“You’d better find a way to explain why you and I need to talk because your ass is mine just as soon as you can pop smoke after dinner.” Oh, shit. Adam had reverted to Marine lingo about making a fast retreat after throwing a smoke grenade to conceal the retreat. Yeah, Marc would be wishing he were in retreat all right. But heading to Adam’s office was where he needed to be retreating from. He knew there would be hell to pay.
Marc knew he deserved nothing less. Maybe Adam could tell him how to fix the mess he’d gotten himself into. As he walked by Adam, the man actually slapped the back of his head. Then again, Marc wasn’t looking forward to this talk. At least he’d get a last meal.
Marc walked into the kitchen to find Karla giving Angelina the grand tour. Well, grand might not be the right word. The kitchen certainly was utilitarian—but nothing to write home about for a gourmet chef like Angelina. He could tell from her expression she wasn’t impressed, but trying to be polite.
When they’d done the renovations, Adam had barely known how to boil water so he hadn’t fussed much about appliances or fixtures in here. He’d planned to eat a lot of take-out and delivery. The biggest expense had been the cabinetry, which Luke had made out of fine cherry. It gave the room a warm feeling at least. Not that he was getting any warm feelings from Adam right now. He avoided making eye contact with him.
“Angelina, you and Karla are welcome to have your cooking classes in my state-of-the-art kitchen.” Marc certainly hadn’t made much use of it. Like the rest of the house, the kitchen was mainly for show. He pretty much lived in the bedroom when he was home, where he had his books, his sound system, even a wet bar. Everything a man could want.
Except for someone to enjoy it with him.
But wasn’t that the way he’d always preferred it? Keep the women at the club? At arm’s length? Well, it used to be.
Angelina smiled at him. “That sounds great…Marc.” He could tell she didn’t know how to address him outside the bedroom, so he smiled to let her know she could call him by his name now. Later he’d make it clear she didn’t need to use the title unless they were in a scene or playing. He didn’t want more than that.
“After you eat this, you’ll see why I need cooking lessons,” Karla said, as she pulled a covered dish out of the oven.
“Karla’s tuna-noodle casserole is wonderful,” Adam said. “So’s her broccoli casserole.”
She smiled at him before turning her attention back to the dish and removing the lid. “Yes, and you have had it at least twice a week since I got here, because I don’t know how to make anything else, other than brownies.”
“Cooking’s easy. All you have to do is know how to read a recipe. How did you learn to cook those two recipes?”
Marc saw a look of pain cross Karla’s face before she forced a smile back onto her face and answered. “My mom’s the baker in the family and taught me how to make the peanut-butter brownies for Adam and my brother while they were deployed.” She glanced over at Adam and smiled, then continued on a near whisper. “My brother Ian taught me to make the tuna casserole on a visit to New York last year.”
Out of the blue, Adam crossed the kitchen and for the first time he could remember, he wrapped his arms around Karla. He looked at Marc and the others and explained, “Karla lost her brother in a motorcycle accident a few months back.”
“Oh, God, Karla! I’m so sorry!” Angelina crossed the room and rubbed Karla’s shoulders, above Adam’s arms.
Shit. Marc felt a stabbing pain in his chest, remembering how his own brother’s death had affected him—for years. No wonder she’d been so somber since she came to the club. Her wound was still raw. Why hadn’t Adam said anything to him? Well, it might have helped if he’d been around more than just to work during club hours.
Marc cleared his throat. “Karla, I lost my brother in the war. If you ever need someone to talk to.”
She brushed tears off her cheeks and pulled away from Adam’s arms with some reluctance. “Thanks, everyone. I don’t like to talk about it much. It’s still too…hard.”
Luke said, “Sometimes talking about it helps.”
“Look,” Karla began, “I didn’t mean to start a sob fest here. If I haven’t totally ruined your appetite, I’m sure my casserole will finish the job.”
Adam picked up two potholders and the baking dish. “Nonsense. Everyone’s going to love it. Let’s eat.”
* * *
Marc couldn’t say that tuna-noodle casserole was something he could eat a couple times a week, but he liked it well enough. He’d certainly cleaned his plate. But he was sure Angelina would be able to bring out the hidden chef in Karla. “Thank you for going to all the trouble to make us dinner, Karla. It was great.”
Luke put his fork down on his equally empty plate. “Karla, if I could cook that well, I’d look like a linebacker.”
“Thanks, Marc and Luke. You’re sweet.”
Marc placed his napkin beside his plate. “No, we’re stuffed.”
Adam sat back in his chair and smiled at her. “I’ve tried to tell her that—after years of Meals, Ready to Eat—this Marine appreciates home cooking…period. Thanks, Karla.” Adam smiled at the black-haired Goth, who blushed and looked down at her half-empty plate.
Marc wondered if there was something developing between the two of them—finally. Adam had been a widower longer than Luke had. Maybe it was time for both of them to find someone.
Marc watched as Luke glanced over at Angelina and tried to tamp down the stabbing pain he felt in his chest. She deserved someone like Luke. But why did the thought of them together bother him so much?
“This is one of my brother Tony’s favorites, too. Easy to make and filling.”
The mention of Tony’s name brought a pained look to Luke’s expression. Should Marc have kept him from telling Angelina about his connection to her father’s death? Why did he want to keep the truth from her on these two counts? She was a strong woman. She’d be able to forgive them both.
He hoped.
“Well tomorrow, I want to be challenged, up to a point.” Karla glanced over at Angelina with something akin to worship. It was good to see the sparkle in her eye that he’d seen when she’d first seen her come out to welcome Angelina. She seemed like a sweet person, but he could tell there was an inner resolve. The woman would get what she wanted out of life, once she’d recovered from her recent loss.
Angelina smiled. “We’re going to start out early for the farmer’s market and you’re all invited to dinner tomorrow night to enjoy Karla’s gourmet creation.” When she turned her big brown eyes in his direction, Marc felt his groin tighten. “Marc, I hope it’s okay if I invite everyone over to your place for dinner. It just seemed to make more sense than transporting the food back here.”
Marc grinned at her. “Absolutely. My place could use a little life. I’ll be out on the mountain most of the day, but should be back by six or so. Adam has a…” he caught himself just in time before saying Adam had a spare key to his house. Damn, he was going to trip himself up yet. “I’ll leave you a spare key so you can get in. Adam, if you have a GPS, I can program the address in it for you.”
Adam glared at him. “Great.”
Marc looked back at Angelina and then Karla. “Just make yourselves at home, but don’t expect there to be any staples in the kitchen. I tend to eat out a lot. Navy corpsmen aren’t much better at cooking than Marines are.”
Adam cleared his throat. “I’ll give Damián a call and see if he can join us.”
Marc nodded and realized he wasn’t supposed to know Damián either. Crap. Someone else to bring into the lie. “Damián?”
Adam was not at all happy at the moment. “Damián served with me in Iraq and is one of the co-owners of my club here. He’s like a son to me.”
“He used to live here in the same room I’m staying in now,” Karla explained to Angelina.
“Just what kind of club do you run, Adam?” Marc asked. He watched Angelina take a sudden interest in her fork. Adam looked like he was ready to spit nails at Marc.
Adam grinned. “A BDSM club. Have you ever heard of BDSM?”
Angelina blushed at the mention of the fetish and Marc smiled. “Yes, actually. I’m quite interested in the subject. You wouldn’t happen to have any membership openings, would you?” He would so pay for this later, but was actually beginning to have fun with it now.
“Why don’t we go have a little talk about it, Marc. In my office.”
Shit. Okay, so he should have known Adam was just setting him up.
“Adam, what are the chances Angelina and I might use one of the theme rooms tonight?”
Adam glared at him. “If the lady is willing, she has full access to the house during her stay.”
Marc looked back at Angelina, whose pupils had just dilated. He smiled. “Oh, I think the lady definitely is willing. We have some unfinished business to take care of from the ride up here.”
The smile left her face as she nibbled on her lower lip and pleaded with him silently to forget about that. She clearly remembered the punishment she’d earned for disrespecting him. Just warning her ahead of time would have her on pins and needles tonight.
Adam stood. “Well, if everyone will excuse us, Marc and I need to work on some…paperwork.”
Hoping for just a small reprieve, Marc offered, “Let me help clear the table first.”
Luke just smiled at Marc and said, “Don’t worry. I can take care of it.”
Traitor.