It was four in the morning by the time I made it back to my condo, but even though I was exhausted, I was too wired to sleep. Before I could do anything else, I needed to turn my mind off, and that meant familiarizing myself with my surroundings and getting comfortable.

I’d seen pictures of the condo online—Monty had bought it for me after Rent-a-Dom took off in its second year, because he’d known that one day, I’d be coming back. When we’d been young and impulsive, it had been our goal to take Vegas by storm, and for the most part, it had worked. It’d just taken a little while to get there.

I found the kitchen and checked the fridge. A small container of coffee creamer had been left in the door, which told me that there was coffee waiting for me somewhere. It would wait until tomorrow, when I’d need it to stay awake. For now, I needed a snack that would stop my growling stomach so I could focus on passing out for the night.

“What did you get me, Monty…” I mumbled under my breath as I poked around in the fridge. All the basics were there—milk, eggs, a carton of orange juice… and a serving-sized resealable container. I narrowed my eyes and picked it up, looking at what was inside through the transparent plastic. Beige, liquidy…

Overnight oats.

I rolled my eyes.

Apparently, Monty wanted to make sure I had a hearty, bowel-happy breakfast waiting for me on my first morning back in town. Or maybe he’d mistaken me for a horse. Either way, overnight oats would do just fine. It was almost a decent hour in the morning, anyway. I figured they’d had plenty of time to sit.

I searched the kitchen drawers until I found a spoon, then went to sit on the couch in the living room. As I settled, I took my phone from my pocket and shot Monty a text.

Arrived safe and sound at the condo. Thank you for making sure there was food waiting for me, and for the overnight oats. You make me feel like an old man.

I pulled the top off the oats and poked at them with my spoon. As I started to mix them, I noticed something out of the ordinary—a swirl of color. I knew what it was right away and grinned. Responsible people sweetened their oats with honey or brown sugar, but Monty knew me better than that. He’d picked up the same sugar dino eggs we’d gone crazy for as kids and hidden them in the oatmeal to turn bland, old-fashioned oats not so boring anymore.

I grinned like a total dork and stirred again, swirling the coloring, then sent another text to Monty. Scratch the old man part. I can’t believe you put dino eggs in my oats. SO COOL. I’ve got the biggest, goofiest grin on my face right now. Omg, you have no idea how much I needed this.

My phone buzzed with a response. You might not feel like an old man, but you make me feel like a nervous parent. Christian said that you had other business to attend to tonight? What were you up to? Is everything okay?

Christian, huh? That must have been the driver’s name. I snorted. Yeah, everything’s fine. I just came into possession of a casino, is all.

Robin.

The one-word reply made me laugh harder than it should have, and I almost sent my overnight oats flying. To make sure I didn’t spill anything, I set them down on the table by the couch and stretched out like a cat, stretching both my legs out as far as they could go before flopping into a comfortable position. What? You told me to take some time for myself.

I didn’t mean it like that, and you know it.

That was true. I set my phone on my chest and reached for my oats, eating a few spoonfuls before I resumed the conversation. If you thought I was going to come to Vegas and bum around for the next few months, you’ve clearly forgotten that I’m a Mills, too. When it comes to keeping busy, we don’t really have an off button.

There was a pause. I used it to eat the rest of my oats, then set the container aside.

Besides, I typed, what are you doing up at four in the morning? Don’t you have a business you should be running? ;)

Blame the Mills genes on that one, Monty replied. I got home from a Toby’s Troubles concert at around one this morning and couldn’t get to sleep. I figured I’d use the time to get some work done. Businesses run just as well at four in the morning as they do during daylight hours.

And I’m the one who should be taking care of himself? I yawned. Vegas’ four in the morning was Rockport’s seven in the morning, and after a full day of travel and corporate takeover, I was starting to feel it. It’ll be fine. Don’t worry about it, okay? I’ve got it under control.

I hope you do, Monty replied. I could swoop in and save you from a bad RaD contract, but casino management? That’s not something I can wave my magic wand and fix.

I wouldn’t want you to, I answered. I’ve got this in the bag, Monty. How many casinos have I gutted during my career? I know the industry from the most important perspective—the one trying to profit from and exploit it. It’s going to be cake.

I glanced in the direction of the kitchen. Cake sounded good right about now.

Monty’s reply was delayed, which meant that he wasn’t necessarily on board with what I had to say. You know best. Just… be careful, Robin. There’s a difference between being a digital Dom and living the lifestyle day in and day out with a submissive you can touch. I’m not trying to warn you off from doing it, but I need you to make sure you know what you’re getting into.

I buzzed my lips. Monty was worried over nothing. What I had with Troy wasn’t like that. I’ll be careful. Promise. I need to get to sleep now, though. I’ve got to be up in a few hours, and it’s going to be a hell of a busy day.

Sleep well.

Night.

Monty didn’t text me again after that, so I set my phone aside and closed my eyes. The couch was comfortable, and after so long spent on my feet doing things, I found I didn’t want to move again. It was probably better here, anyway. In bed, there’d be space for me to toss and turn, remembering the way Troy had felt beneath me, and how his touch had sent pinpricks of pleasure down my spine.