The music of the club pounds through the air, ringing in my ears and vibrating in my chest, but I hardly notice. Ever since last night, my mind has been laser focused on one thing and one thing alone. My princess. Miley. I probably should be embarrassed that I had to dig that up in the club’s employee records, but fuck it. I couldn’t stop thinking about her, and I wanted to know her name.

I’ve spent my whole life searching for the right woman. For years, it felt like something was wrong with me. Every relationship seemed shallow and pointless. Sex felt like a stiff exercise, an obligation, even. Then I happened to learn about my older brother Leo’s interest in BDSM. I wondered if maybe that was the missing piece, if maybe the reason I never seemed content with my relationships was because they weren’t the right kind.

So I dove in. It felt right for the first time, like the world resonated with me. The only problem was I quickly developed a sense for what I wanted in a submissive. The bigger problem was as much as I knew there was something specific I was waiting for, I couldn’t put it into words. It was just a knowing that nothing and no one was living up to my desires. It became a dull ache in my chest, a longing that never seemed to go away or subside. I tried a few relationships after I stepped into the world of BDSM, but nothing was ever right.

Then I saw Miley last night. It was like the fucking room stood still, like everything stopped mattering in that moment except making her mine--completely and totally. I knew there wasn’t anything to stop me from taking her, from showing her the power of what we could have together. I just wish I had the self-control to use a condom. I’ve always told myself I never wanted kids. My mom got sick shortly after she had me and passed away. I know it’s stupid, but I’ve always blamed myself, like bringing me into this world is what killed her, or at the very least what weakened her enough that she couldn’t fight.

If I got Miley knocked up, I’d be scared to death something would happen to her. As much as I might want to become a father, I wouldn’t ever risk the woman I love for such a selfish reason. I couldn’t survive having everything I want snatched away because of me.

Letting her leave was the hardest thing I’ve done in a long time, but it was the right move. I could see the pain of Miley’s past etched in her eyes. I saw how she’s put her trust in the wrong men and had that trust betrayed, how she’s been abused, taken advantage of, and forgotten. She needs to understand that she’s free. I can’t snare her with force. The only way is to let her realize for herself how badly she wants to be mine, to be owned by me.

So I have to wait. And now the wait is almost over, because she’ll be coming in for her shift in a couple hours. But I don’t plan to let her get much work done.

The club is busier than usual tonight, but I spot Miley’s brother, Kyle, as he comes through the front. He’s tall and built like he might have been a football player in high school or college. He notices me and changes directions, heading straight for me.

“Jayce--ah, Mr. Carlyle,” he says, correcting himself but not sounding sorry for the disrespectful slip. “I wanted to talk to you.”

I size Kyle up, taking in the set of his eyes and his posture, doing my best to measure what kind of man he is. I can see that he probably looks after his sister, but there’s something else I sense about him--something I’m not sure I like. “About?” I ask, not bothering to hide my irritation. Let him see that I don’t like him. I’ll get a better sense of what kind of man he is than if I fake a smile and shake his hand.

“My sister.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Go on.”

“She’s already in a relationship. His name is Cade.”

“Not anymore. She broke things off with him. She told me as much last night.”

Kyle nods his head, laughing humorlessly. “Yeah, I bet she did,” he leans close like he’s letting me in on a secret. “Look. I love my little sister, but she’s trouble. She likes to watch guys fight over her. She’ll say whatever she has to, and then her real boyfriend will show up one day with a baseball bat when you’re not expecting it.” Kyle mimics swinging a bat at my legs.

I want to believe he’s lying. I want to believe it down to my fucking core, but a hairline fracture of doubt splits my certainty that I’ve found the perfect woman. I know I won’t act on his words. She deserves more than that, way fucking more. Whatever he says. But I can feel the slight doubt wriggling its way deep into my mind where it will be nearly impossible to pull free.

“Fuck off,” I growl. “You think you’re protecting her by talking shit about her? You should be fucking ashamed.”

An emotion I can’t place flickers across Kyle’s face, but it’s gone in an instant. “I’m looking out for her. I don’t want to see her get into any more trouble. Or get any more innocent guys hurt,” he adds before turning to walk over to the bar.

I wait with white-knuckled impatience for Miley to show up for her shift, but when twenty minutes have passed and she still hasn’t shown up, my instincts tell me something’s wrong.

I pull out my phone as I push my way to the exit and jog to the parking lot. I call the general manager who runs the accounts and payroll for the club and tell him I need Miley’s address to send over a package that showed up at the club. He reads it off without question.

I hang up the phone before jumping into my car. I may come barging into her place and make a total idiot out of myself, but she’s either missing work because something wrong, or she’s avoiding me. Either way, I’m going to find out.