You know, a girl could really get used to this aftercare thing.”

I lean back in the bathtub with my glass of champagne. Bubbles float all around me in the hot water, filling the air with the lightest popping sounds.

And Clive — oh, sweet Clive — sits at the other end of the large tub with my foot in his hands.

“Have thirty minutes of rough sex,” I say. “Receive hours of pampering.”

Clive runs his thumb up the arch of my foot. “Nora, exactly what kind of shitty boyfriends have you had?” he asks.

I roll my eyes. “You don’t want to know.”

He chuckles and gestures for my other foot, which I promptly set in his very capable hands. “Well, it’s nice to know where I stand in your little, black book.”

“Very highly,” I assure him.

I lay my head back against a rolled-up towel on the tub’s edge and moan to myself.

“Sub life,” I sing.

Clive laughs and keeps rubbing my foot.

I take a deep breath, smelling the warm, scent air. “Hey, Clive.”

“Yes?”

“Why did you become a Dom?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, obviously,” I raise my head, “why does anyone have any preference, but I mean… I stumbled on Red Brick to explore ways of relieving stress. Why did you go there, at first?”

His eyes fall on the water between us. “My leg,” he answers.

I say nothing, hoping that he’ll continue himself.

“My mother, she…” He pauses. “My father disappeared when I was fifteen. He left behind a mountain of debt that my mother had no idea existed. We were already making just enough to get by and now we had to dump whatever spare cent we had into his damn debt or we’d lose everything. I didn’t want to go to college but she, being a teacher, pushed me to go. When I saw how hard it was for her to pay for my school, make her ends meet, and pay down that debt, I couldn’t in good conscience continue so I dropped out and I joined the Army. Every dime I made, I sent home to her.

“After my injury, I felt so awful being a burden to her again. I couldn’t hold down a decent job and the jobs I could get didn’t pay much — mostly just enough to afford painkillers, but still, every dime I made, I gave to her. I lived with the pain instead. I needed something else, something that would help me manage it, and that’s when I found Red Brick.”

“You took it out on subs?” I ask.

“No, it wasn’t like that. It was…” He pauses, gathering his thoughts. “Inflicting pain on a lover, even controlled pain, it was something we shared. I watched them overcome it, no matter how much it hurt. I thought if they could do it, then… Experiencing pain and pleasure as one in the same is the only thing that helped me. Eventually, I healed but I keep going back because it’s just who I am now.” He looks at me. “Does that make sense?”

“Yeah,” I say. “It does.”

“Life doesn’t have a safe word. Pain either fades away or we adapt and learn to live with it. Sometimes, you can’t even tell the difference.”

My lip trembles. “How did she die?” I ask.

“Car accident,” he says. “Died on impact. I remember thinking how lucky she was. She didn’t have to fight anymore. Without her around, I stopped fighting for a while, too, and… well, shit happens.” He breathes a short laugh. “Before we met, I had just started earning enough for a studio apartment. How’s that for timing, eh?”

“Ugh,” I grunt.

“What?”

“Nora Payne,” I say. “Master conversationalist.”

He laughs. “It’s all right.”

I abandon my champagne glass on the tub’s edge. “Yeah, I think I’m just gonna…” I sink into the water, “drown myself now.”

Clive slides forward and pulls me up into his lap. Water splashes over the edges onto the floor as he wraps his arms around me to hold me against him.

“Don’t you dare,” he says. He kisses my jaw. “It’s good to finally talk about it with someone I trust.”

I rest my forehead on his and cup his cheek. “You’re an amazing man, Clive Snow,” I tell him.

He says nothing. He just makes that quick, happy sound from the back of his throat and kisses me.

* * *

My phone vibrates on the table by the door but there’s no way in hell I’m getting out of this bed to answer it.

The sun has barely risen over Manhattan. The sky outside is still a dark blue but it’s slowly brightening every minute. Saturday morning in New York City. It’s probably still bustling down there from last night but this hotel room could not be calmer.

I feel Clive stir beside me. His arms stretch over his head but his legs stay entwined with mine. I take the opportunity to slink a little closer, trapping myself between his body and his arm before he manages to lower it again. It works and he hugs me tighter without even opening his eyes.

“Good morning,” he says.

I chuckle. “Understatement.”

He kisses my head and inhales deep. “What time is it?”

“I have no idea nor do I care.”

He laughs. “You know, I have to work today.”

I raise my head. “Noooo—”

“Yes.”

“Just quit.”

“I planned on putting in my two weeks as soon as I got there.”

I groan and drop my head to his chest again. “Fine, be a responsible and model employee,” I quip. “When is your shift?”

“Noon. So, we might want to get moving now so we can fly back in time.”

“But…” I cling to his body, “I don’t wanna.”

He runs a hand along my arm. “Just a few more minutes.”

“Okay…”

I settle in, resting my hand on his abs. His skin spurs heat through my fingertips and I caress him south toward his—

Clive grabs my wrist. “Nothing about what you’re doing right now means a few more minutes…”

I feign offense. “I wasn’t doing anything!”

“You were doing exactly what it looked like you were doing.”

“Well…” I sigh, “I guess you’ll have to punish me, then…”

He shoots up and forces me onto my back. “You, Ms. Payne, are being a very, very bad—”

The phone vibrates again.

I scoff. “Someone is really desperate to reach me today…” Clive pushes off me and hops off the bed. “Wait! I must be punished!”

“Punishment later,” he says, heading toward the bathroom. “Now, clothes and breakfast and flights home.”

I throw on a pout. “Fine.”

Clive smiles and twists back in my direction. I set my feet on the floor and he tilts my face upward to kiss me.

“Good morning,” he says again.

“Good morning,” I say, smiling back.

He turns away and I watch that glorious ass saunter away into the bathroom.

I look at my phone and my smile becomes a sneer. I hoist myself up, throw on a bathrobe, and walk toward it, so not ready to embrace the real world just yet.

Uh-oh. Nine missed calls.

I call back the unrecognized number.

“Chicago Police Department.”

I blink. “Hi, this is Nora Payne. I’m sorry you’ve been trying to contact me but I’ve been traveling.”

“Yes, Ms. Payne. Let me transfer you to Robberies and Homicides.”

The line cuts off.

“Wha…” I wince. “But which one?”

Clive returns with a towel wrapped around his waist. He stops cold the moment he looks at me. “Whoa, what’s going on?” he asks. “You okay?”

“I’m being transferred to Robberies and Homicides.”

His brow rises. “… which one?”

“I don’t know! They should be more specific, right?”

“Yeah, there’s a huge difference there…”

“Ms. Payne?” a man says in my ear.

“Yes, I’m Nora Payne.” I hold my breath. “What’s going on?”

“I’m Detective Zimmer. I’m sorry to bother you so early but there’s been a break-in at your condo tonight.”

“Was anyone hurt?”

“No, ma’am.”

I exhale at Clive. “So, just the robbery part, then…”

He nods and lingers by my ear.

“Well, what did they take?” I ask. “Is there damage? How bad are we talking here?”

“No damage other than the front door, which your super is taking care of right now. Nothing was stolen, either. A neighbor heard the door breaking and called the police, so the suspect was apprehended on-site.”

“Oh.” I sigh with relief. “That’s… lucky.”

Clive lays a hand on my shoulder and I look up at him, finding a little more comfort in his eyes.

“Do you know a man named Alex Preston, Ms. Payne?” Zimmer asks.

“Alex Preston?” I repeat.

Clive flinches.

“No,” I say. “I don’t know anybody by that name…”

His hand falls from my shoulder as he takes a step back.

“He walked right to the safe by your bed,” Zimmer says. “Seems like something only a friend or acquaintance would know about. Can you think of anyone who might know of its location in your home? Recent house guests or repairmen?”

“No, not even my closest friends know…”

I study Clive’s downturn eyes. He won’t even look at me.

Why won’t he look at me?

“Ms. Payne, would you stop by the station at your earliest convenience?” Zimmer asks. “I assume you’d like to press charges.”

Clive picks his shirt up off the floor. His movements are slow and stiff, almost sickly, as he slides it on.

“Yes,” I answer. “Of course. Thank you.”

I hang up and lower the phone to my side.

He still won’t look at me. He just puts on his clothes one piece at a time. He tosses his towel over the chair. He doesn’t say a word.

I pinch my robe closed. “Clive, who is Alex Preston?” I ask.