-34-
Tara
Joseph had only been gone a minute, but I waited in tense anticipation for a century for his return. What would he do to me? Would I find release and be able to purge the sadness from my fractured heart?
My breath hitched as the door opened. He stood in the hallway, his hand still on the doorknob as he peered into the room, and his gaze found the dark collar ringing my neck.
His posture straightened, his shoulders pulled back. His expression filled with satisfaction, and power rolled through him. Shivers of pleasure shook my body. He could do that in a single look. Let me know how pleased he was with me. It flooded me with warmth.
His smile reached deep into his eyes. “You’ve made the right decision.”
He stepped into the room, and people trailed behind him. Silas, Regan . . .
. . . and Grant.
I scrambled backward on the table, so close to the edge I nearly fell off. “No,” I cried. “Stop. Red.”
“Yes,” Joseph’s tone was plain. “Those are all safe words you can use once we get started. But first, we need to go over the ground rules.”
He stood in front of me, and Silas and Regan were together on my left, their hands linked. Grant lingered alone near the back of the room, his eyes fixed on me. I tore my gaze away, refusing to look at him. I focused back on Joseph, and anger clenched my stomach.
“No, Joseph—”
His expression went hard, and I’d swear I could feel his eyes tugging on my collar as a reminder. “It’s ‘Sir’ tonight.” He turned and spoke to the rest of the room. “And that goes for all of you.”
Holy. Shit.
He’d given me the collar, he’d said, so I wouldn’t mistake who was in charge. Because in this room, there were four dominants, and I’d submitted to each of them.
“At no point,” he continued, his voice demanding attention, “will you speak, unless you are told to do so.”
I swallowed hard. Silas looked unaffected, but Regan’s gaze dropped to the floor. She’d maintained a position of power here at the club, and being told what to do by anyone, especially a man, would be a struggle.
“You all agreed to this. I give the orders, and I expect them to be fucking followed.”
“No,” I said. “Stop. Red.”
Joseph came to me, and I expected disappointment. I was safe-ing out so early, but this was a different Dominant than the one I’d had before. His edges were sharper, but the rest was smoother. Softer. He gently grabbed my shoulders, making it so I couldn’t look anywhere else. He was forty now, but time had only made him more handsome.
He spoke quietly, just for me. “I’ll always respect those words, but you’re safe. I’m not going to let anything bad happen. You’re wearing my collar, Tara.”
It meant my safety, both physically and emotionally, were his responsibility tonight. I had surrendered to him. I gazed up at the chandelier, trying to drain back the tears in my eyes. “I don’t think I can do this.”
“I know you can. Everyone came for you. We’re all here for you.”
I shouldn’t have done it, but I couldn’t help myself. I looked at Grant.
His attention had never left me. There could have been a million people standing between us. The room could have burst into flames, and he wouldn’t have flinched. Right now, only I existed.
He wore a classic blue suit and a bright white dress shirt. No tie. He looked amazing, but also like a fucking liar. He’d told me he’d do his best to make sure I wouldn’t hear from him again, unless I wanted that.
So, what the fuck was he doing here?
Then again, Joseph had said no one was allowed to talk. Grant’s eyes were filled with a thousand words, but he’d left them unspoken. Technically, he was keeping his promise.
I shifted back to Joseph, whose expression was pure persuasion. “Trust me,” he coaxed.
He’d never given me a reason not to. It was a ghost of a word. “Okay.”
“Good.” He kissed my forehead, right at my hairline, as he released me. It wasn’t sexual or romantic. It was a reward and helped to define our roles. He turned his attention to Grant. “Bring in the chairs and shut the door.”
I had my legs tucked beside me and my hands in my lap, worrying a cuticle on my thumb, as he disappeared into the hall for a moment and returned with two black folding chairs, one in each arm. He set them up side-by-side on the wall opposite the white wingback chair, then returned to the door and pulled it closed.
Trembles crawled along my legs, but I couldn’t tell if it was with trepidation or excitement. The closed door signified the start of the scene.
“Sit,” Joseph ordered Silas and Regan, motioning to the pair of chairs.
They complied, but neither looked comfortable. Regan’s back was straight, and she was literally on the edge of her seat. She wanted to be somewhere else. She hated this, and yet, she remained.
Joseph took my hand and helped me down off the table, then nodded toward the series of drawers beneath it. “Two sets of handcuffs, please.”
Oh, God. I tightened with apprehension, making my hands clumsy as I opened the top drawer. I knew in my gut these restraints weren’t for the people sitting, and they definitely were not for Joseph. That left me and Grant. Was he going to handcuff us together and force intimacy on us?
I pulled out the metal ones, but Joseph shook his head. “The soft ones with the longer chain. In the back.”
He knew the contents of each drawer. It wasn’t his club anymore, but he still carefully curated each item in the room, per Julius’s request.
I found which ones Joseph wanted and placed them in his outstretched hand. I must have looked nervous, because amusement dashed through his eyes. “You think either of these are for you? You’d be wrong.” His head swung toward Grant. “You’ll sit there.”
He meant the white upholstered chair.
Grant didn’t hesitate. He strode to the chair that looked a throne in comparison to the others in the room, but I’d learned long ago, looks could be deceiving in Joseph’s scenes. If his sub was comfortable, he wasn’t pushing hard enough.
“This one,” he said as he gestured to Grant, “struggles with self-control, so we’re going to make it easier on him.” He passed back one set of the handcuffs to me. “One on the wrist, and one on the back chair leg.”
I was frozen in place while I watched it unfold. Grant didn’t look at Joseph as he pulled back his suit coat sleeve and offered his wrist. It was powerfully sexy, made more so because his piercing stare was locked on me. It announced he would do anything for me.
Including submitting to another man.
The muscles low in my belly tightened, creating a dull ache.
Once Joseph had the wrist cuff done, he took a knee beside the chair and fastened the other end around the foot of the chair. His sharp tone was a threat. “Do I need to repeat myself?”
“No, Sir.”
I went to the chair and bit down on the inside of my cheek. I didn’t know if I could touch him and not break apart. My body clamored for him, while my head demanded I stay far away. My heart was a battleground, and neither side could claim victory yet.
I ripped open the Velcro and wrapped it quickly around his wrist, touching him as little as possible. Relief swept through me when it was done, and I bent to finish my task. Only I’d been so focused, I hadn’t realized he’d dropped his arm over the side of the armrest, and he brushed his knuckle against my cheekbone.
I jerked away, falling backward on my bottom, and a panicked sob burst from my lips. It had been a featherlight caress, but it both lit me on fire and scared the hell out of me.
For the touch? For everything?
Joseph must have predicted Grant would try something, because he was ready, waiting with a riding crop he’d retrieved from the middle drawer. It swung through the air and slapped across the top of Grant’s thigh.
His eyes went white with surprise, and he hissed in discomfort, flinching from the strike.
“Not another word,” Joseph barked. He extended a hand and helped me to stand. His evaluating gaze took me in from head to toe. “You all right?”
With everything I’d done in the club, it was ridiculous that a single, innocuous touch had me unraveled. I refused to let it get to me. “Yes, Sir.”
He led me to the front of the table and asked me to sit, and when I did so, he set his sights on the couple. Or more specifically, Regan.
“You. Come here.”
He didn’t use names often in scenes. They had to be earned. Until then, you had to work for his respect.
But it was clear who he was calling up, and she stood reluctantly, smoothing her nervous palms down the sides of her black pencil skirt. Her face was a mask, but her eyes gave away her fear, especially when she risked a glance at the riding crop he held at his side.
“Face Tara,” he ordered.
She did. Her makeup was muted, softer than the way she usually wore it when working at the club. Her hair was down. She looked more like the woman I knew outside of this place.
Joseph’s tone was the same as a parent talking to a disobedient child. “Is honesty important between a dom and a sub?”
“Yes,” she said quietly.
He lifted an eyebrow. “I can’t hear you.”
“Yes, Sir,” she corrected, louder this time.
“You violated this trust, didn’t you?”
Her blue eyes flooded with remorse. “Yes, Sir.”
“So, what should we do about that?” His expression was dark, wicked excitement. “What happens if your sub lies to you?”
Her tremble was so subtle, I barely noticed it, but Joseph did. His eyes flared with power. Regan barely squeaked it out. “She gets punished.”
He seized a fistful of her hair and jerked her head back. It was rough enough, it startled everyone, and most of all her. She gasped, but it didn’t seem to be in pain—only shock. Silas was out of his chair, but she put up a hand, signaling for him to stop.
This was a test. If Silas couldn’t handle this, he’d never make it through the next part.
“Tell him it’s all right,” Joseph commanded.
“It’s all right,” she said instantly, her voice tight. With her head held back, she struggled to get her gaze on him. “I’ve got this.”
Joseph’s attention drifted to Silas. “I don’t have an issue with you.” He turned back to the table then nodded toward Grant. “But these three? They’re all guilty to some degree, and you need to let me work through it. Understood?
Silas didn’t look happy as he begrudgingly lowered back into his chair. His hand curled into a fist as it rested on his knee.
But Joseph looked pleased. “Yeah, we’ve got some shit to work out, don’t we, Andrea?”
I blinked against my confusion. Why was he calling her—
Oh. Hurt seeped in. She was undercover, which meant I didn’t even know her real name. Fresh betrayal stung my insides, prickling my eyes.
“Can I say something?” she begged.
When Joseph released her with a shove, it sent her flying into me, and her hands landed on my legs. Her palms were warm against my bare skin, and it tingled where we were connected, even though I didn’t want it to.
“Speak,” he ordered.
“It’s Regan. The person I am when I’m here, when I’m with Silas . . .” She gazed at me with desperation. “When I’m with you—that’s the real me. I hid my whole life until I became Regan.” Her expression was pure and bare. “Andrea is the lie. You know the real me.”
I didn’t have a reason to trust her, but this, I believed.
It was silent for a long moment, until Joseph broke it with his cold command. “Pull up your skirt and bend over.”