“You know this is totally unnecessary, right?” Elena sighed as Blake opened the passenger’s side door of his SUV and helped his woman slide down from the high seat, totally appreciating the way the slide made both her skirt and her lightweight sweater ride up to reveal tantalizing glimpses of skin. “Driving me everywhere like I’m a celebrity who needs a bodyguard?”

“Yep. And you know we already discussed this,” Blake reminded her, allowing a warning note to creep into his voice.

Elena sighed again and squirmed just a tiny bit, making Blake grin. Oh, they’d discussed it all right, first at his house this morning, and then later when they’d stopped at her apartment so she could change and get ready for lunch with Gretchen. Blake had made it clear, once again, that he wasn’t screwing around with her safety. When she’d argued, he’d warned her, and when she’d continued to fucking argue, he’d put her over his knee and spanked her gorgeous, round ass right there on the edge of her bed, loving the way she’d felt against him, still rosy and naked from her shower. He’d thought he’d been thorough enough to put an end to this conversation for the rest of the morning, at least.

Apparently not.

But it would be his absolute pleasure to rectify that mistake.

He placed his hand firmly on her elbow and guided her to the elevator, his eyes scanning the nearly-empty sub-basement level of the parking lot… just in case. Nothing had suggested that Salazar was planning to up the ante from his harassing protests, but something about the whole situation still didn’t sit right with him, and Blake wouldn’t take chances.

When they reached the elevator, he jabbed the up button, pleased when the doors immediately whooshed open and no other passengers had appeared.

“Figures. Even elevators obey your will,” Elena grumbled.

He turned and speared her with a look that made her eyes widen and her breath come fast.

“W-what’s that look for?” she stuttered.

He gave her his most feral smile as he backed her into the empty elevator car. He pressed the button for the top floor, then turned to crowd her against the wall, bracing his hands above her head.

“Look?” he mocked in a whisper against her neck.

“Yes the ‘You’re in trouble, little girl’ look,” she elaborated on a rush, as he ran his tongue over her thudding pulse.

“Oh, that look? That look just means I was thinking about you,” he said in a low voice, watching the way his breath made gooseflesh rise on her damp skin and just knowing that her nipples were hardening beneath her bra.

“Oh… I guess… that’s nice,” she said, lifting her hands to thread them into his hair.

“Hmmm,” he agreed, pressing her more thoroughly into the wall. “Like I’ve been thinking that I’ve clearly been too easy on you, worrying that you were new to the lifestyle. I’m thinking that the next time I spank your ass for arguing and sassing me, I’m gonna have to be a lot more thorough so you’ll learn your fucking lesson.”

Her eyes widened. “Oh, no, that’s not… you don’t…”

“Don’t worry, baby,” he told her. “I take my responsibilities very seriously.”

He moved one hand from the wall beside her head and squeezed her ass… hard… right over a spot he knew would still be tender from the spanking he’d given her an hour before.

She whimpered in a way that was half discomfort, half arousal, and he felt his cock twitch.

Jesus, this girl.

“Now, are we gonna discuss my presence at your lunch date again?” he demanded softly. “Do I need to make myself any clearer on this subject?”

She shook her head. “No. I just… didn’t want to inconvenience you,” she whispered. “I know you’re busy, and…”

Blake snorted. “Elena, in just this one morning, you’ve aroused me, defied me, angered me, and made me laugh my head off. One thing you have not done, one thing you never do, is inconvenience me. It is my job—my privilege—to take care of you and keep you safe. That is my priority. You are my priority. Understand?”

His hand soothed the flesh he’d squeezed and she smiled. “Yeah,” she breathed.

And damn if that smile didn’t communicate itself all the way to his groin.

The elevator dinged open and he snagged her hand, tugging her out into the restaurant lobby. “Let’s get this over with,” he barked.

He wasn’t just talking about this lunch, although he couldn’t wait to get his woman back to his place, to show her exactly how he felt about her sass, and to explore her serious enthusiasm for the Shibari they’d dabbled with last night. He couldn’t wait to be done with all this bullshit. The protesters. The investigation. The worry for Elena’s safety, if these idiots did decide to up the ante. The nagging feeling in his gut that he was missing something.

Last night, after Elena had gone to sleep with her head pillowed on his chest, Blake had lain awake for a long while. The last few days had brought him no shortage of shit to think about, from the concern about Elena’s possible pregnancy (which, honest to God, had felt more like hope than worry), to the quagmire of the protests that were making it nearly impossible to effectively run his business. He’d been running his hands over Elena’s soft hair, breathing in the sweet, vanilla scent of her shampoo, when a thought had run across his brain that shocked the hell out of him.

You could just close The Club.

It wasn’t the thought of closing The Club that shocked him. Hell, he’d considered it once or twice, especially over the last few years, first when that fucker who called himself Marauder had used The Club to attack Matteo’s woman, and again when Josie got sick. Both times, though, he’d dismissed the idea right away. Not only was the place his livelihood, it was his life’s work—a place he’d built from the ground up over decades. He’d mentored hundreds of dominants, tutored dozens of submissives, and provided a real-life safe place for members of the community, much the way Josie had online. It was more than a business. It was a duty. A calling, if you wanted to get dramatic about it.

But last night, feeling the warm weight of his woman pressed against his side, hearing the deep, even sound of her breathing, he found he couldn’t give a shit about any of that. It was all about Elena now—protecting her, making a life with her, building a family with her.

He dropped his hand from Elena’s and placed it on her lower back as he guided her across the elegantly appointed lobby.

He wouldn’t close The Club unless he absolutely had to, of course, but recognizing that he could do it, and walk away without regrets if that’s what Elena needed? Yeah, that had helped solidify his priorities. He’d known for a few weeks that he was in deep with her. Now he knew he was all in.

“Good afternoon,” a woman greeted them from behind a podium, distracting Blake from his thoughts. “Welcome to The Skyroom.” She appraised Blake from head to toe before tossing him a wide, blatantly flirtatious smile.

Blake raised one eyebrow at her obvious inspection. She was an older woman—his age, or maybe a couple of years younger, short, blonde, and completely lacking in subtlety. Not remotely interesting.

But beneath his hand, he felt Elena’s back tense, and saw her eyes narrow as she correctly read the hostess’s smile.

Now that reaction was interesting.

“How may I help you?” the blonde asked.

Blake deliberately stayed silent, allowing Elena to speak.

“We’re meeting a friend for lunch,” she said shortly. “Gretchen Liu?”

The blonde gave Elena a perfunctory smile, before returning her gaze to Blake. “Of course. The other members of your party are already seated. If you and your… daughter would follow me?”

Daughter. It’d been bound to happen, of course, and Blake was surprised to find that he was more amused than upset by it, especially in this situation. He frowned at the woman severely, waiting for her to realize her mistake.

Not surprisingly, his Elena wasn’t that patient.

She tucked herself more firmly into his side, wrapped her arms around his waist, and glanced up at him with a wide smile. “Baby, can you believe she thinks I’m your daughter?” Elena giggled in a high-pitched voice she’d probably never used before in her entire life. “Although it is sexy as hell when you call me young lady.”

Blake turned his frown down at his woman and grasped her hip firmly in warning.

A warning she ignored.

Elena snaked her hand up Blake’s abdomen, coming to rest just over his heart. “And I think I’d kinda love to call you Daddy sometimes,” she confided in a stage whisper just loud enough to be sure the blonde could hear.

The blonde made a strangled noise, and pinched her lips into a sour pout. “This way,” she said, grabbing menus off the podium and sweeping through the open doorway into the restaurant.

Elena went to follow her, but Blake grabbed her arm. “Care to explain yourself?” he asked keeping his voice deceptively mild.

Elena shrugged and looked down, somewhat chagrined. “Just… staking my claim,” she said softly, but her tone of voice said she knew she’d crossed a line.

“Uh huh.” His hand, hidden from view of the restaurant by the podium, found the curve of her ass and squeezed once more. “You can be certain we’ll be discussing that… later.”

Elena sucked in a breath, then nodded meekly.

Blake turned her towards the dining room and gave her sore posterior a firm swat, but couldn’t help adding, “Young lady.”

And damn him, but the sight of the blush climbing her cheeks was giving him ideas completely inappropriate for the present moment.

Half pissed off, half amused, and one hundred percent turned on. Was this what the rest of his life would be like, he wondered?

He chuckled to himself.

Yeah, he was definitely all in.

He controlled his expression as he followed Elena through the restaurant, preparing himself to meet her friend and talk business, and forcing himself not to dwell on the way Elena’s shapely legs ate up the floor, or allow the sway of her ass to affect his breathing.

He couldn’t fault the choice of location, for sure. The restaurant, which was on the 34th floor of a highrise near Rowe’s Wharf, was large and airy, with floor-to-ceiling windows on three sides that allowed the warm spring sunlight to flood the space. The floors were a dark cherry, the linen tablecloths were pristine white, and a panorama of Boston spread out before them in every direction.

They were led to a four-person table in the back corner furthest from the door, where two people were already seated. Blake noted with approval that the man—a guy with the honed physique and sharp eyes of a trained operator—sat facing the room and watched them closely as they approached. The other occupant, a woman with a petite build and hair every bit as straight and black as Elena’s own, sat directly across from the man, scowling at him.

“Enjoy your lunch,” the blonde told Elena acidly, plunking a pair of menus down at their seats and stalking away.

Both people at the table turned to stare, and then the woman jumped up from her seat with a squeal.

“Oh my gosh!” she cried, her shoulder-length hair swirling around her face as she threw her arms around Elena. “How are you, stranger? It’s been months and months. Emails and calls just aren’t the same!”

While the women exchanged greetings, Blake turned his attention to the man, who had risen to his feet also, consciously mirroring the pose of the woman he was protecting. The guy was easily over six-two, with a lean, muscular build that reminded Blake of Matteo, and the lower half of his face was obscured by a full beard.

“Blake?” the man surmised.

Blake nodded.

“Lucas,” the man introduced himself, holding out his hand for Blake to shake.

“You’re one of Slay’s guys,” Blake said, more of a statement than a question.

But the man grinned widely even as he inclined his head. “More like, Slay’s one of us.”

Blake felt his lips turn up. “That an important distinction?”

Lucas shrugged. “We aren’t real keen about bowing to anyone else’s authority, that’s all. Slay’s a good guy—when he’s leading an operation, he knows I’ve always got his six. But he’s not my boss.”

Blake nodded, and from the other side of the table, Elena piped up. “We have that in common!” she told Lucas, slinging an arm around her friend’s waist. “Alex isn’t my boss, either.”

Lucas’s eyebrows rose.

“Lucas, this is Slay’s sister, Elena,” Blake said dryly. “You might note the resemblance.”

The man smirked behind his beard and gave Blake a look. “I do.”

Elena shook the hand Lucas offered, but her brow wrinkled in confusion. “That’s funny. Most people don’t think we look alike. He’s built like Paul Bunyan and I’m… definitely not.” She chuckled, taking her seat.

Blake took the seat opposite her. “It’s not a physical resemblance,” he said.

Elena shook her head. “I don’t get it.”

The woman beside her rolled her eyes. “He’s saying you and your brother both have an attitude.”

“Oh,” Elena said, her face clearing. “Well, yeah. But on him it’s annoying, whereas my attitude is adorable.”

Gretchen and Lucas laughed. Blake felt his mouth kick up in a smile. “Absolutely, baby.”

Gretchen’s pretty brown eyes, just a few shades lighter than Elena’s, caught Blake’s and narrowed, like a hawk who’d caught her prey. “Okay, let’s talk about that, right there! What exactly is the relationship between the two of you?”

Elena snorted. “Simmer down, G. There’s no story to uncover here, okay? Blake and I are together. That’s all there is to it.”

Her voice sounded confident, but he loved the way her eyes sought his for confirmation.

“Yep,” he nodded. “That’s all there is to it.”

But Gretchen wouldn’t be put off. She rolled her eyes again. “Well, yeah. We all know that. Heck, the entire broadcast area of Channel 13 Action News and most of YouTube knows that. But what were you doing at The Club in the first place?” She leaned over the table, glancing avidly between Blake and Elena. “How did you get involved in this, Lanie? Are you, you know, his submissive?”

Elena glanced at Blake again, this time as though looking for guidance, and felt his temper spike. No one was going to grill his girl on their personal business.

But before he could open his mouth to protest, to draw a firm line around what was off-limits, Lucas spoke up.

“Back off, Vicki Vale,” he said airily, earning him a glare from Gretchen.

Blake personally felt that the comparison to the rabidly inquisitive reporter from Batman was pretty apt. So did Elena, if her stifled giggle was any indication.

“Elena is my friend,” Gretchen shot back. “I care about her and want to make sure she’s okay.”

“I know you do.” Lucas’s voice became lower, softer, both a comfort and a caution. “But this is neither the time nor the place for that discussion.”

Gretchen darted a glance at Elena, whose cheeks were still pink with embarrassment, and deflated.

“Sorry, honey,” she said. “Let’s change the subject. Why don’t you tell me all about your brother! Is Alex still sex on two legs?”

Elena laughed and relaxed, but Blake noticed that the opposite was true of the man sitting next to him. Lucas seemed to be holding himself very, very still.

Hmmm.

“First of all, ew!” Elena said with a smile. “My brother is… enormous and annoying and not remotely hot. And second of all, he’s doing great. Remember, I told you in my email that he’s been with Allie for about a year and a half, and he’s going to be adopting her son, Charlie, any day now?”

“Oh! Right! Duh! I forgot,” Gretchen said, earning her a curious look from Elena and a glare from Lucas, who’d folded his arms over his chest.

“Seriously? You? Forgot? What happened to that steel-trap brain you were so famous for back in college?” Elena teased.

“Good question,” Gretchen said ruefully. “My brain seems to have been on hiatus the past few weeks. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you came to me with this. The guy you asked me to look into is someone I’ve been hoping to nail for years. A friend of mine had dealings with him and, uh… it didn’t end well. My friend’s gotten in so deep, he can’t get out.”

Blake wasn’t surprised. Boston was practically crawling with people who hated Chalo Salazar. Unfortunately, the number of people who feared him was even higher.

“But next time you ask me to do you a favor, girl, remember I don’t want protection, okay? I can take care of myself, and I don’t need some… some… professional stalker… watching my every move and getting all up in my business.” Gretchen glowered at Lucas.

Blake bit his cheek to stifle his grin. Professional stalker. That was a new one. He glanced across the table at Elena, and saw her eyes widen, no doubt reading the sexual tension that coiled in the air, heavy and potent.

“Hell of a way to talk to the guy who saved your life two days ago,” Lucas growled.

“Oh, please!” Gretchen retorted, balling her fists on the tabletop. “You didn’t save me, because I wasn’t ever in danger, and anyway, I…”

Blake held out a hand, halting whatever else Gretchen planned to say. “How about you tell us what you needed to tell us, and you can sort your own shit later, hmm?”

Fortunately, the waiter showed up at that exact moment to take their orders. Blake and Elena, who had barely had a chance to glance at their menus, ordered basic burgers.

After the waiter departed, Gretchen took a deep breath, visibly forcing herself to calm down and adopt a professional mien.

“I have good news and I have bad news,” she began, and Blake felt that knot of tension in his gut tighten once again.

“Start with the bad,” Elena said grimly. Consciously or unconsciously, her hand snaked across the table to find his, and he twined their fingers together. Whatever came, they’d handle it together.

“Well, according to my source, you were right on track with your assumption that Salazar is funding The Church of the Highest Prophet. Apparently, he’s bragged about it.”

Blake nodded. No surprise.

“The bad news is that my source can’t get us any concrete evidence. I have no proof of the link between Salazar and the church’s effort to discredit The Club. And I won’t write unsubstantiated rumors,” she said flatly. “Not even for this. I value my integrity too much.”

“Fuck,” Blake said. Until that moment, he hadn’t realized how badly he’d been hoping that Gretchen would have the magic bullet, the one piece of information that would clear up the whole mess for him—and maybe even put away the asshole who’d hurt Slay’s Allie, too.

“Yeah,” Gretchen agreed with a sympathetic nod. “Let me be clear—it’s not that the proof doesn’t exist. Salazar is one hundred percent out for retribution, and he’s definitely diverted funds through his attorney to the church. He also coerced those women into making false accusations against The Club and filing a civil suit. It’s just that it’s too risky for my source to confirm this. Salazar would know who’d betrayed him in two seconds flat, and it wouldn’t just be my friend on the line, but his family, too.”

“I understand,” Elena told her, meeting Blake’s eyes across the table and squeezing his hand. “We wouldn’t want anyone to get hurt.”

Blake nodded once, severely. Hell, no. Not on his watch.

“I knew you wouldn’t.” Gretchen gave Elena a small smile. “There is a bright side, though… and it’s a pretty unexpected one.”

“What’s that?” Blake demanded.

“Well, it looks like Salazar has some big plans coming up. My source didn’t give me any details, and I sure as hell didn’t want to ask, but in my opinion, it sounded like Salazar’s tired of hiding in the shadows. He’s ready to become a major player in the Boston underground again. Like Voldemort, coming back from the dead.” She rolled her eyes.

Blake couldn’t see any positive light to the news she’d relayed. “What the hell does that mean?” he snarled. “He’s gearing up to make a move, and meanwhile my girl got herself on his radar? How’s this good news?”

Gretchen grinned, not put off in the slightest by his temper. “Whatever Salazar’s got planned, he’s pulling back all of his resources and gearing up for it. He’s all but stopped moving product over the past week, he’s had a couple of phone calls that even my source hasn’t been privy to, and he’s warned his guys not to get so much as a traffic ticket. He doesn’t want to be on law enforcement’s radar.”

“Still not seeing the good news,” Elena told her friend.

Gretchen wrinkled her nose. “Well, everyone knows Chalo happens to be allergic to publicity. He never wants to draw attention to himself, and after Elena’s little speech the other night, he’s realized that people are starting to connect the dots between him and the protests at The Club. He’s decided to cut off cash flow to the church. He’s told his guys he’s already won—he’s succeeded in discrediting The Club, so he can pull his funding from the protests without losing face.” She rolled her eyes.

Blake exchanged a glance with Elena, whose jaw was wide with shock… and excitement. He hated to do anything to make her more worried, but the whole thing still wasn’t adding up for him.

“Who’s your source?” Blake demanded. He couldn’t trust the opinion of one of Salazar’s cokehead henchmen, not with something as important as Elena’s safety.

Gretchen laughed and shot him a disparaging look. “You know how this works. I can’t tell you my sources. Once a source believes he or she has been compromised, they generally cease to be a source, either because they choose not to risk themselves, or because someone chooses to silence them in a permanent way.” She hooked a thumb at Lucas angrily. “A piece of information I tried to convey to this guy before my last meet, not that it did any good.”

Blake looked to Lucas, who merely shrugged. “Not gonna let her meet alone with some fucker who works for Salazar,” he explained, his thoughts eerily similar to Blake’s own.

“And I told you I don’t need your permission!” Gretchen all but shouted, drawing the stares of several people at nearby tables.

“You have your job, I have mine,” Lucas said stonily. Then he turned to Blake. “But anyway, guy’s trustworthy,” he confirmed.

Blake blinked. Trustworthy? “Trustworthy” and “works for Chalo Salazar” tended to be mutually exclusive, unless…

“Do I know this guy?” Blake demanded.

Lucas nodded slowly.

Damn. There was only one trustworthy person Blake knew who was affiliated with Salazar. And yeah, he’d believe Diego Santiago’s word any day.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Gretchen demanded of them. “You think you know D… I mean, my source? How?”

“I run a BDSM club. I know a lot of people, Ms. Liu,” Blake said with a shrug and a smile. “So… Your source is sure Salazar will be calling off the dogs? Leaving The Club alone?”

He could see the hesitation on Gretchen’s face, and knew she didn’t want to be distracted from her original question. He saw her dart a glare at Lucas and didn’t envy the man. He was going to be grilled the second he and Gretchen left this place.

Lucas, however, seemed unperturbed.

Finally, Gretchen caved and answered Blake’s question. “Well, that’s the other piece of bad news,” she told him. “Salazar’s no longer going to be funding the church, which means more than likely they’ll be taking whatever donations they have left, locking their doors, and high-tailing it out of town in the dead of night.”

She rolled her eyes again and Elena laughed.

“Good riddance,” Elena said, and Blake squeezed her hand. No shit.

“And he won’t be paying his attorney to handle a civil suit against The Club, so that threat will go away, also,” Gretchen continued. “But unfortunately, that doesn’t solve your PR problem.”

Elena frowned. “Why not?”

“Well… The church started the mess, no doubt, but this thing has taken on a life of its own now. You’ve got online petitions and people setting up protests—”

Blake nodded. “Pandora’s box has been opened.”

“I’m afraid so,” Gretchen agreed. “Unless you really wanted to push the whole Salazar-church connection beyond the veiled reference you made the other night. You might find another reporter who wouldn’t mind publishing rumors like that, but…” Her eyes were troubled.

“Absolutely not,” Blake declared flatly.

“Right,” Gretchen nodded, relieved. “Good. Because if Salazar thought you were going to the media, he would come after you then. Elena, too.”

Blake heard Elena suck in a deep breath and ran his thumb over her knuckles. “That’s not gonna happen,” he soothed.

Her eyes came to his, caught and held. She nodded, but bit her lip in a way that said she was still thinking about this shit.

Add that to the list of things they’d need to talk about later.

* * *

The lunch had been pleasant, but it had been fucking long. Blake found his mind turning over the issue of Salazar the entire time. He wanted to believe that Diego’s information was accurate, and that the danger was past, but knowing Salazar’s MO… it just didn’t add up. He kept replaying Gretchen’s words, sure he’d missed something, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.

Once she’d conveyed the information she needed to convey, Gretchen had seemed to relax, and Blake had found her to be sweet and funny… except when it came to Lucas.

Lucas had predictably been quiet, except for the occasional intelligent, wiseass remark, at least until Blake had paid the bill and they’d adjourned to the lobby to say their goodbyes.

Gretchen had shocked the shit out of him by raising up on her tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek and whisper in his ear, “I’m so glad she’s found you.” And Elena, in turn, had given Gretchen a big hug and promised to make their lunches a regular monthly thing, at minimum.

But then Gretchen had turned to Lucas and held out her hand. “Well, thanks for your help. It’s been nice knowing you,” she’d said, trying to be smart, but any idiot could see the genuine regret in her eyes.

Lucas had grasped her hand and lifted one eyebrow. “Appreciate it. But until I’m sure you’re safe, doll, I’m not going anywhere.”

Gretchen had frowned, completely bewildered, and tried to extricate her hand from his grasp. “Uhhh, no. Your job is done, my investigation is closed, and Blake isn’t paying you anymore. You have no reason to stick around.”

Lucas had simply smiled and pulled the woman closer to his side to say softly, “I think you and I both know that’s not true.”

Gretchen had stared at him for a long moment before turning to Blake. “You can… call him off, can’t you? Make him go!”

Blake had simply shrugged, amused at the conflicting emotions that flitted across Gretchen’s pretty face—joy, wonder, panic. “Sorry, honey. You heard him earlier. He doesn’t follow my orders. He’s his own boss.”

Lucas had snickered. “Come on, babe. Let’s discuss this in the car.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” Gretchen had declared staunchly, folding her arms across her chest. “I’m going home.”

“You can try,” Lucas had agreed. “But remember, I’ve got your keys.”

He’d twirled the keyring around his finger, smiling at the outraged noise Gretchen had made.

“And on that note,” Blake had whispered to Elena. “I think we should be heading home. We have unfinished business to discuss, too.”

Elena had nodded distractedly and allowed him to guide her to the elevator and out to his SUV. But now, twenty minutes later, as they neared the turnoff to his house, she was still lost in thought. It was time to get her refocused.

“Babe, what’s up?” he said, reaching over to grab her hand.

“Hmmm?”

“Elena,” he said sharply. “What are you thinking about?”

“Oh… nothing,” she said, shaking her head as if coming out of a trance. An obvious lie if he’d ever heard one.

“Young lady,” he growled as he flicked his blinker on. “It’s time we go over some rules.”

“Rules?” she repeated dubiously. “Like what?”

“Like, for a start, you don’t lie to me. Not ever. Not in the smallest way. If I ask you a question, I want a true and complete answer. Not a half-truth, not whatever bullshit you think I wanna hear. Understood?”

He glanced at her, saw her face creased in a grimace.

“Yes, of course. I wouldn’t lie to you,” she denied.

“Good. Then, baby, I’m gonna ask you one more time. What’s got you so distracted?”

She sucked in a deep breath then blew it out before she replied. “It’s not a big deal, just… thinking about Chalo Salazar. About how you have to choose between going after him and implicating him in the protests, or sitting back and letting the protests continue, maybe for months.”

Blake frowned. “Baby, you heard Gretchen. We go after Salazar in the media, he comes after you.”

“And the protests continue,” she mumbled.

“So what?” he demanded, pulling into his garage and letting go of her hand so that he could set the car in park and turn off the engine.

“So what? Blake, if we exposed him… if the protesters knew they’d been manipulated from the beginning…” He turned to find her enormous, dark eyes trained up at him. “Then they’d have to leave The Club alone,” she whispered.

What the hell? Did she understand what she was suggesting?

“Not gonna happen,” he repeated more forcefully, reaching over to unbuckle her belt. “Ever. Now get in the house.”

“But…The Club!”

“Get in the house, Elena. Now!” he roared.

“But, Blake…”

Enough of this bullshit. He threw open his own door, and shut it with a resounding slam before stalking to the passenger’s side and yanking Elena’s door open.

“Blake, if you’d just listen,” she said again, holding out her hands as if to placate him, as if he’d ever listen to a suggestion like the one she was making.

He grabbed her around the waist with both hands and hauled her to the edge of the seat, then dipped and slung her over his shoulder.

“Blake!” she screeched. “Omigod!”

He carried her squirming and writhing, to the door that led to his kitchen, unlocked the doors, and carted her through, before delivering a sharp swat right where her ass met her thighs.

“Not another word,” he growled as he stalked through the kitchen and down the hall to his bedroom.

He set her on her feet beside the bed and turned to sit on the edge.

“Strip.”

She swallowed. And then she obeyed.

Off came the sweater, inch by tantalizing inch, until the garment floated to the floor. She unhooked the skirt, which dropped quickly, puddling at her feet. And then she hesitated.

“Everything, Elena. There’s going to be nothing between us when I punish you,” he told her. “When I take you.”

She reached behind her and unhooked her lacy blue bra, then slowly drew the straps down her arms and tossed it to the floor, as well.

Shit. The sight of her naked breasts in the afternoon sunlight that seeped through the window was enough to have him momentarily forgetting his purpose. He watched as her nipples furled in the chilly air, saw her hesitate.

“Keep going,” he told her, his voice husky with arousal.

She swallowed again, then hooked her thumb into her panties and drew them down her legs.

“Come here,” he told her, when she was completely bare, pointing at the floor between his legs.

Without further instruction, she knelt on the floor between his feet and gazed up at him, nervous and eager.

“Usually, when I want to spank that ass, I will want to be the one to bare it,” he told her, threading his fingers into the hair above her ear. “Because I own it, and I like to remind both of us of that.” Her eyes burned with arousal at his words, and the sight made his fingers tighten in her hair, the need to claim her riding him hard.

“But today, Elena,” he continued, voice tight. “Today, I need you to remember that I own it because you gave it to me. Your love is a gift that came out of nowhere during the darkest time of my life, and brought me joy that I never dreamed I’d experience again.”

She bit her lip and her eyes flooded with tears that he brushed away with his thumbs. He forced himself to finish.

“You will not risk that. You will not risk yourself. You won’t even suggest it. Do you understand?”

She nodded.

“Then get over my knee,” he demanded.

He guided her up and over his left leg, holding her steady with his left hand on her hip, so that her torso rested on the bed and her beautiful ass was bared to him. He ran his hand over her smooth skin, making her shiver, feeling the corresponding twitch of arousal in his cock.

His girl. His woman. His Elena.

His to protect, to discipline, to pleasure.

Then he lifted his broad palm and brought it down with a resounding crack that echoed through the empty room. Elena’s answering cry, a muffled sound that spoke of both sorrow and submission, filled something inside of him that defied explanation.

He delivered a dozen more measured smacks in the same fashion, slap slap slap, until her entire ass was a delicious, rosy pink, and Elena was writhing against him, her breath coming in short gasps.

“I will never smother you, I will never take away your fire,” he told her fervently, punctuating his words with more stinging blows. “But you will never jeopardize your safety. That is your first and most important rule.”

“Yes, sir,” she cried. “Yes, yes, yes.”

So much enthusiasm while she was over his knee. But he needed to make sure this was a lesson she wouldn’t forget the minute this session was over.

“You listen to me, Elena, hear me now,” he said, while his palm turned its attention lower, to the tender junction of her seat and thighs. Her back bowed, her torso lifting off the bed in protest with each hard slap, but he would be sure she understood. “The Club can go to hell. Your brother can go to hell. You are my priority. Nothing and no one else is worth risking one hair on your head. Do you understand?”

He paused, his hand resting on her throbbing flesh, and waited for her answer.

She nodded wildly, her cheek against his bedspread, her hair a tangled mass that covered her face. “I do understand. I promise,” she said, her voice thick with tears and remorse. “I understand because… I feel the same way about you. I would never want you to risk yourself, either.”

Blake sucked in a sharp breath. His girl. His.

“Another thing,” he told her, twisting so that he could brush the hair away from her tear-streaked face. “You’re mine.” He turned her and lifted her off the bed with two hands around her ribcage until she was sitting astride his lap, cradled against his chest. Then he put one finger beneath her chin, making sure her eyes were on him. “That’s not something you have to prove or declare to anyone, ever.”

She dragged in a shuddering breath. “Y-your wife. LadyHaven,” she began, almost seeming to startle herself with her words.

“Josie,” he corrected gently.

“Josie,” she repeated. “You loved her, too.”

Ah. Had this been on her mind? Unlike his concerns about Salazar, this was one worry that was easily banished.

He nodded. “I loved her very much. She taught me so much over the years, baby. She helped me become the man I am now. The man you need me to be. And she’ll always own a corner of my heart.” He stroked his hand over her cheek. “But right now? There’s only one person who’s on my mind every minute of the day. Only one person who tests my control every minute I’m with her, and makes me crazy every minute we’re apart. My Elena. My future. I can’t tell you how many fantasies I’ve had of you in this bed. Even before I got my hands on you, I dreamed of you.”

“Show me,” she said, half plea and half demand.

So he laid back and drew her more firmly atop him, and brought his fantasy to life.