I breathe in deeply through my nose and exhale through my mouth, my chest rising and falling with the effort of staying calm. I’d learned to master my temper at an early age, and it rarely flares like it does tonight. Something about catching some crazy bitch with wild hair, a short skirt, and spiky red heels keying your car does that to a guy.

I narrow my gaze on her, trying to figure out who the fuck she is. Someone I know? A scorned ex? Nah. A submissive I’d topped at my club? No. There’s nothing familiar about her at all.

I’d have remembered this one.

A mane of wild, unruly black curls that frame her oval-shaped face. Large hazel eyes with ridiculously long lashes. A small, pert nose, full mouth with cherry-red lips. She doesn’t come anywhere near my height, but wearing those death-defying heels, she’s taller than any woman I’ve known. Though she meets my gaze squarely, she can’t hide the tremble in her lower lip, betraying her fear.

“Your car?” she asks.

The little blonde standing next to her gives an audible gasp that ends with a squeak, and covers her mouth with her hand, then spins around to look at my plate covered in a layer of ice and snow.

“My car. That’s parked outside of my club.” I jerk a thumb at my chest, then to the plain brick building with the shiny black door, the entrance to Verge, the exclusive BDSM club. My second home.

She whips her head around and gazes at the door, then looks back to me. Her eyes narrow and her lips tighten. “You’re lying.”

Oh, the little shit. The fucking gall of her to defile my car, then sass me like that. What I wouldn’t give to take her across my knee and teach her some manners.

With another intake of breath to keep me calm, I whip out my cell. “Let me call my friend, Zack. Local NYPD. I’m sure he’ll be happy to haul your ass to jail and press charges for me.”

Real fear crosses her features then. “No! Oh, God.” She turns back to the car, wavering on her feet, and scrapes ice and snow off the plate.

Is it the heels, or is she drunk? Christ, if that girl were mine she’d pay for this.

“Wrong plate,” she moans. “Oh, God. It’s a New York plate. This is the wrong car.” She shivers, then. Is she cold, afraid, or both?

“No shit,” I snap. “We’re in fucking New York City. What’d you expect?”

She spins around and waves her hands in front of her, pleading for leniency.

“I am so sorry. Whatever the damage is, I’ll pay for it, I swear to God, every last penny. I didn’t mean…” she turns to the car and brings a hand to her mouth, eyes filling with tears.

“I… this is…” she shakes her head and pulls out her wallet, taking out a shiny gold credit card. “This isn’t me. This isn’t what I do.”

What forced her hand?

Fuck me. I want to know.

“I’ll—I’ll pay for the damage.” The wind picks up. She wraps her arms around herself, dressed in a thin leather jacket, her hands beet red from the cold.

Seeing her freezing cold, eyes brimming with unshed tears, I make a decision.

She’ll pay for it alright. I’ll drag her ass out of the cold, though, and we’ll take it from there.

“My office is just inside that building. Come and we’ll talk about this.”

Her frantic gaze sweeps from her friend to me. The blonde shakes her head, and they have a hissed conversation before the woman pushes her friend’s hand off her shoulder and turns to me. “I’ll go. I promise, I’ll make it up to you.”

That she will.

I don’t trust her not to run away, so when she gets in the car idling by the curb, and she makes her way to the door, I grip her arm. “Ice, heels, and whatever the fuck you’ve got coursing through your veins, I don’t need a liability on my hands.” Part of me wonders what the fuck I’m doing, taking the girl into Verge. Pretending the feel of her small arm in my hand doesn’t make me want to touch more of her.

Non-members don’t grace the halls of Verge, and though I’ve been with many a submissive inside the club, I’ve never taken someone in. It’s crossing a line somehow.

But this woman is not mine, I tell myself. Not a date. I’m bringing her in from the cold and exchanging information. Making sure she doesn’t take off and screw me over.

She’ll catch frostbite out there.

Yeah.

She doesn’t have to see anything. Nothing suspicious. Keep her in the office, then get her the fuck out of here.

Right.

I nod to Brax, the bouncer at the door tonight, who eyes the woman next to me with curiosity. I shake my head, once. No, she isn’t mine.

If she were mine, she wouldn’t be sitting pretty for long.

Stalking down the hall I release her and order, “Keep your eyes on me. No snooping. This is a members-only, private club, and you’re not welcome here.”

She huffs out a mirthless laugh. “Seriously? Like I asked to come here? Listen, mister, I’ll give you my information and get the hell out of here.”

“You’ll take a seat in my office and sober your ass up first.” I open the door to my office and grab the chair in front of my desk, the sound of the feet scraping along the varnished floor jarring.

“No thanks, I’ll stand.”

“Sit.”

“No.”

I spin around to look at her. Her eyes flash with warning, her jaw clenched in anger.

“We can do this the easy way…” my voice is controlled, a low purr that makes submissives under my authority quiver. But not this woman. “…or the hard way.”

“Oh yeah?” she asks through clenched teeth, stepping over to me, her hazel eyes meeting mine. “Some chicks might dig this whole caveman shit, but I don’t. There is no easy or hard way. There is one way. You give me a piece of paper and a pen, and I give you my insurance information. We contact them in the morning and file a report. They handle the rest, and we never see each other,” she flicks her wrist for emphasis, “again.”

I shake my head with a chuckle, ignoring how her sass makes my dick hard. Jesus, I haven’t had a woman defy me like this in far too long. “You committed an act of vandalism, sweetheart.” I let the words drip sarcasm, needing her to feel this. “Your insurance company won’t fucking compensate for intentional damage. I either press charges, or we handle this off the books.”

She bristles at the “sweetheart,” but her bravado slips. Her eyes betray her fear. “Oh,” she says in a little voice.

I shake my head. I never dreamed she’d give me shit like this. It’d been a mistake not to call the police.

“On second thought, maybe Zack really does need to be involved.” I take out my phone, but her eyes go wide and she grabs my arm.

“No! God, no, please don’t. I have no idea what they’ll do with my assistance if I get charged for this! And my son needs it. I can’t risk that.”

What?

“Please,” she whispers.

Christ.

I stare at her and point to the chair once more. “Sit,” I tell her, gentler this time. I lean back against my desk in front of her and watch as she sits.

Victory. A small one, but I’ll take it.

“Your name?”

“Diana.”

Diana. The name of a goddess. Fucking Wonder Woman.

“Tobias Creed,” I say.

My phone buzzes, followed by a flash of light on my desk, a vibrant red that makes ice instantly pulse in my veins. A signal from Zack, one I can’t ignore.

The flashing red has only been used once since Seth and I opened Verge: emergency lock-down.

Shit.

I push off the desk and point a finger at her. “You stay right there,” I growl, taking my phone in hand. “I need to find out who triggered the alarm.” She screws up her face to protest, but the imminent danger makes me angry.

“Your ass leaves that chair, and your ass is mine. I don’t care who the hell you are, you leave now and you won’t sit for a fucking week.” Her eyes widen, and I frown at her, pinning her in place with my gaze. I am beyond caring about etiquette, my dose of mercy used up. “Try me, Diana.”

She opens her mouth in outrage and pushes her hands on the arm rests, but I just repeat, “Try me.”

She sits back down with a huff.

Good.

I’ll sort her ass out later.

I turn the door to my office as I answer the call. “Yeah?”

“Creed.” I recognize Zack’s gritty voice. “Club’s in lockdown. No one leaves. On my way in now. I told Seth to start the lockdown.”

What the fuck is this about?

“Victim of sexual assault, and all signs point to the perpetrator originating from Verge. Victim’s friend says she was there tonight, left with a stranger. You do not reveal details to your team yet. No one, and I mean no one, leaves your place without express permission from me or another officer.”

Acid burns in my stomach, my hands clench into fists. With a growl, I hit the master lock by the door and can almost hear the audible click as the four exits to Verge shut tight.

“How bad?” I ask, bracing myself. Running a club in downtown NYC means I’m no stranger to crime, but when it involves sexual assault—

Zack pauses, and when he speaks his voice is tight. “Vicious. Cruel. She was found on the corner of Trace and Main, was rushed to County. Intensive care.”

Fuck.

My blood turns cold as sirens ring through the night.