Heidi added her signature to one final document in the proposal she'd prepared, then closed the folder and slid her chair back with a satisfied sigh. Her eyes automatically sought out the clock above the door to the lobby. Four o'clock, which meant she had another hour before she'd promised Dom she'd leave. Four o'clock, which also meant she'd been working without interruption for two hours. Not too shabby.

Not so long ago, two hours of work wouldn't have even registered. Even a month ago, work was the thing she did from the time she opened her eyes (to begin compulsively checking her phone), until whatever time exhaustion forced her to push her laptop aside and roll over to sleep. But these days? Two hours was a record.

For one thing, her man (Her man! A concept that never failed to make her belly flip!) liked to text her at various times throughout the day—sometimes a quick hello to let her know she was on his mind, other times with strict reminders or sexy instructions he'd dreamed up just to torment her, just to make sure he was on her mind.

Like she could think about anything else.

Her concentration was shot. She'd be sitting in front of her computer, like she was now, ready to churn out a report… and the next thing she knew, she'd be staring at her own blank, goofy expression reflected in the black screen of a monitor that had shut itself off while she'd been daydreaming.

Thank God for Paul, she thought, as she clicked to open their project management app and noted that all of their active projects were on-track. He'd been pulling more than his fair share of weight around here recently.

When he isn't busy acting as my therapist and D/s guru, of course, she thought wryly. Those early days had been full of freakouts and gushing wide-eyed wonder.

Paul, he says he suspects I'm a 'baby girl' so I just Googled, and… ohmygod!

Dom texted again! Says he wants me to drive carefully on my way home so that 'my baby comes back to me safely'. I can't even explain how amazing it feels to know I'm that important to someone!

Seriously, Paul, do not compliment me on this blouse—it barely fits across my chest and I keep having to yank it up. But how can I tell him that I don't like him picking my clothes? He's going to be so mad.

Hey, if you're ordering from Roadhouse, can you get me a burger? I know! I never get that stuff, but… Dom says my curves are exactly where he likes them and I'm not allowed to starve myself. I just love the way that man takes care of me.

I can't call him 'Sir.' You have no idea how hard it is, especially when I'm mad. But when I tell him, he just smiles and reminds me that I'm his good girl and that I need to focus. What is that even about? I just don't know if I'm cut out for this.

She couldn't imagine talking to anyone else about this stuff. Certainly not anyone currently in her life. Her sister would no doubt be horrified. Her father would murder Dom. Her mother… well, her mother would have Heidi committed for agreeing to this in the first place!

But Paul had stoically endured her sentimental gabbing and had handled every freakout with patience, restraint, and the never-ending mantra, "Have you talked to Dom about this, Heids?"

That last bit had been kind of infuriating.

"Paul, you're supposed to be my friend, on my side," she'd finally told him, outraged that he refused to see how high-handed Dom was being about one thing or another. "Is there some kind of dom code? You're not allowed to criticize one another or you lose your membership?"

But Paul had simply sipped his coffee calmly and thoughtfully, and broken the whole thing down for her in a few simple words.

"Heidi, if we receive a contract with conditions you don't like, you sometimes ask my feedback or my advice, but you don't come and bitch to me about it. You've never once done that. Why?"

Heidi had blown out a breath and admitted, "Because you can't do anything to change it. Yeah, yeah, I get it."

But Paul had shaken his head.

"Not just that, Heids. It's because bitching is what people do when they feel powerless, and when it comes to this stuff," a quick gesture that encompassed all the papers and folders on her desk, "you know you're not. If you really want a contract, if you know it's what's best for the company, you'll adjust your projections to make the client's terms work for you. If you really can't handle the terms, you'll tell them so, and nine times out of ten, they will adjust their terms because they want you to work on their project and they want you to be happy. Being a submissive doesn't mean you're powerless. Just think about it."

And just like that, the whole situation had snapped into focus.

Just because she was naturally inclined to be submissive didn't mean submitting was always supposed to be easy! And it was not a one-time decision—it was something she would have to choose every single day. Multiple times a day. If she wanted to please Dom, and God did she want that, then she would choose to step out of her comfort zone, and choose to trust him.

And that meant doing something that was, for her, even harder than trying to follow his every dictate without question. It meant opening up to him, sharing which aspects of their relationship she enjoyed and which she struggled with, so that they had a relationship that worked for both of them.

"You like letting me lead you, honey," he'd told her. "And in the same way, I like taking care of you. How can I do that if you don't tell me what's going on in that head of yours? You're not a robot. I don't expect this shit to be easy for you, and maybe you need a chance to ease into things. That's fine. What this relationship looks like today isn't what it's going to look like five years from now. Just keep talking to me, keep trusting me, keep working at it. When I know you struggle, but I see you choose to submit? That's beautiful, baby."

And it was beautiful.

But the idea that they'd be together five years from now, still working things out? That was beauty beyond anything she'd imagined.

She had never known that happiness like this existed. She'd always imagined that romance novels set an impossible standard, an unattainable fantasy. Now, she knew that the words on the page could never do justice to the reality. It was fun, it was hot, but it also nourished something inside her that she hadn't known was starving.

They'd gone out to dinner with his brothers several times, and both guys, especially Tony, had been quick to welcome her to the family—joking, talking, and teasing her like the big brothers she might have had in some parallel-universe family that was more apt to rough-house and clown around than to plan political protests. They'd even asked her—commanded her, more like, since Dom's brothers had both inherited that same way of stating a request as a royal decree—to invite Hillary down over the holiday weekend for a barbecue.

True to his word, Dom hadn't asked a single question about the Easterbrook analysis or the recommendations she'd make to the board. She knew it weighed on him, knowing that his staff or his students might take a hit, but he was determined not to let that shadow their relationship, and, as he'd told her gruffly, he knew she was damn good at her job and trusted her to do it right. Still, not long after their initial meeting, Heidi had officially handed the entire file off to Paul to handle at his own discretion. It was simply too hard to be impartial, and this relationship was too new and too important to her to risk—more important, in the long run, than personally overseeing the audit.

When she'd told Dom, he hadn't made a comment… he'd simply brought out a new toy—a small, black leather flogger, and after giving her the most intense, sensual spanking she'd had yet, proceeded to make her climax harder than she ever had in her life.

She squirmed in her seat just thinking about it.

Unlike the incident at the school last week, which had made her squirm for an entirely different reason.

She and Dom had been on their way home from the gym last Saturday when he realized that he'd left his spare phone charger in his desk at work and decided to swing by to get it. As he'd led her by the hand down the dark, empty corridor to his office, all dark and serious and Dom, she'd been seized by the need to see him smile, make him lose that business-like composure.

"Principal Angelico?" she'd simpered in her best little-girl voice, pulling her hand away from his to lean dramatically against the bank of lockers that lined the hall outside his office. "I'm awfully nervous about this! I didn't mean to break the rules!"

She'd bitten her lip and batted her eyelashes beseechingly, while running a hand across the thin tank top that covered her breasts.

He'd frozen solid, one eyebrow raised, and she'd thought for a moment that he wouldn't play along. But then his lips had pursed like he was fighting a smile, and she knew she'd won.

"Miss Morrow," he'd said, stroking his chin appraisingly as his eyes lit up. "You broke the rules, didn't you?"

"Well, yes, sir, I suppose I did… it's just…" A pause while she ran her fingertips up and down her stomach, his eyes watching her every move. "I try so hard to be a good girl, sir."

He'd smirked at that, even as he stalked closer, leaning in to tower over her.

"I'm sure you do, Miss Morrow. But you've been very, very naughty… And I can't have naughty girls going unpunished, can I?" The last words breathed in her ear, tightened her nipples.

"No, sir," she'd told him truthfully, as his teeth clenched down on her earlobe.

And just as she'd been about to tell him what she'd do to make amends for her naughtiness…

The freakin' office door had opened, and they'd barely had time to jump apart before Jay Fucking Divris had walked out!

It had taken some fast talking on Dom's part to explain their presence at the school—Heidi had lost a thumb drive the other day, thought it might have gotten mixed up in Dom's papers, so he'd agreed to let her have a quick look around…

On a Saturday.

Dressed in gym clothes.

With one car in the parking lot.

She wasn't sure that Jay bought it, but he hadn't said a word. And after he'd left, Dom had taken the opportunity to show her, with the phone charger cord, what happened to naughty girls who tried to seduce their doms at their places of business.

Ouch.

She couldn't plug her phone in at night without remembering, and judging from the leering grin Dom gave her each night as she slid into his bed, he hadn't forgotten either.

A knock on the frame of the open door nearly had her jumping out of her seat, her reverie forgotten.

"Hey, Heids, got a minute?"

Paul came in without waiting for a reply, brow furrowed and flawless brown hair standing on end.

"Yeah, definitely," Heidi assured him. "Just doing that staring-into-space thing… again."

He'd caught her at it more than once and had teased her relentlessly, but today he didn't crack a smile as he took his seat.

"What's up?" she asked, concerned now. "Everything okay with your family? With John?"

She'd been happy to see that Paul's love life had taken an upswing just as things with her and Dom had settled down, and she hoped his fledgling relationship wasn't responsible for the frown on his face.

Paul looked startled.

"Oh, yeah. John is fine, we're… fine." He waved a hand dismissively. "It's actually…"

He blew out a breath and hesitated… behavior so unlike his usual calm, no-bullshit attitude that Heidi felt a knot form in the pit of her stomach.

"Tell me!" she instructed.

Paul nodded and reluctantly placed a folder on top of her desk.

"Easterbrook?" she asked, glancing at the label. "You've been reconciling the budgets with the accounts to see if there is any surplus that could offset the loss of income from the alumni, right? I read your updated notes in the project tracker. What did you find?"

It was hard not to get excited at the prospect of a surplus. She knew the problem wouldn't be that easy to solve—they might find a couple of thousand in surplus, not nearly enough to make up the hundreds of thousands of shortfall. Still, every penny helped. Frankly, she'd joked with Paul that she'd consider throwing the mother of all bake sales, or raffling off a car, if that would get them one step closer to closing the gap without cutting salaries or scholarships.

But Paul didn't answer her question right away.

"Jay sent me the updated financials for this month," he began, shifting in his seat, his eyes on the folder.

"Right. Okay… and? Has something changed from what was projected?" she asked, when he didn't continue.

"Actually… yes," he admitted. "The alumni donation numbers were up. Way above what we had noted in our projections."

Heidi felt her eyes widen.

"But that's great news! By how much? Enough to matter? Can I cancel the bake sale?" she joked.

But once again, Paul didn't return her smile, and he still wouldn't meet her eyes.

"What, Paul? Will you please spit it out? I suck at playing guessing games," she begged.

Her phone buzzed on the desk between them, and both of them looked at the display.

How's my girl?

With a look at Paul, who somehow seemed to grow even tenser, she grabbed the phone and typed a quick reply.

Doing very well. Half hour until departure.

Perfect. Don't be late, baby. I have plans.

Despite Paul's weirdness, Heidi couldn't help smiling as she set the phone back down.

"How much do you know about this guy, Heidi?" Paul asked suddenly, sounding like a disapproving older brother.

"Who? Dom?" The question, especially coming from Paul, was so startling she wasn't sure how to reply. "Since when are you concerned about Dom?"

"Since right now. I mean, you overheard this guy having sex with this never-ending cavalcade of women—"

"Cavalcade?" she scoffed. "He didn't do monogamy before me. I didn't do D/s at all, so what?"

"And then suddenly he steps right in and starts domming you left and right, all up in your business…"

"All up in my… Are you kidding me? You're the one who told me—"

"And then, next thing you know, oops," he threw his hands in the air dramatically, his eyes wild. "We're investigating his school, and haha! we didn't even trade last names before we jumped into bed and no one knew that there would be this whole conflict of interest!"

His words hit her like a blow to the solar plexus, but she rebounded.

"Conflict of interest? How? There's no conflict of interest, because I passed the files to you!"

"But it doesn't look that way from the outside!" he exploded, standing up and dragging a hand through his hair. "It's not enough to avoid impropriety, we have to avoid even the appearance of impropriety if we want to maintain our reputation! And as soon as someone finds out about you and Dom the dominant, everything we've built evaporates!"

Paul paced in front of the desk like a caged animal. Paul, who considered it a massive overreaction to even raise his voice, who had literally never lost his temper in all the years they'd worked together, no matter how ridiculous or demanding a client was, who kept his cool no matter how freaked out Heidi herself became, had completely lost it. And seeing him like this somehow helped her rein her own temper in and tie the pieces together.

"You found something bad," she said calmly, as the facts finally slid into place in her mind. "Okay. So what exactly did you find?"

He exhaled and sat down, all the energy draining from him at once, and he pulled two sheets of paper from the folder.

"This," he set the first piece of paper down in front of her, "is the quarterly statement they initially provided us."

"I recognize it," Heidi agreed, scanning the sheet.

"And this," he placed the second paper to the right of the first, "is the monthly sheet we just received. From Dom's office."

Heidi compared the two pages and tried to ignore the emphasis Paul had placed on the last two words.

"It looks like… the carryover balance is too high? The opening numbers on the monthly report should match the ending numbers from the quarterly report, and they don't."

She glanced up at Paul, who nodded.

"So… someone made an error," she concluded with a shrug, gathering the sheets together. "Honestly, Paul. We'll just ask them to check the numbers and…"

"I've done that," Paul said flatly, folding his arms across his chest. "Louisa sent me copies, I followed up with her a second time. The numbers on this monthly report are the same numbers in the official quarterly report file on the school's server… the only discrepancy is in our copy of the quarterly reports."

"Okaaay…" Heidi rubbed her temple, the beginnings of a headache forming. "How could that happen?"

"It shouldn't happen at all. The finance department prepares the quarterly numbers and presents them to the headmaster for approval. Once the file is marked approved, it can't be changed… at least in theory. Hard copies are sent to the headmaster, the finance department, and the head of the Board of Directors… and, in this case, to us," he added. "But the electronic record is stored on the school's server. Authorized people can access it, print it, copy it… but they can't change it. It's encrypted and password protected."

Heidi nodded. "Right, that makes sense. Then how was it changed?"

"One administrator has access, Heids," Paul said gently. And the answer settled like an anvil in her stomach.

Dom. As headmaster, of course Dom would be the one with access to the file.

"You're saying that—possibly for a very good and logical reason that we haven't discovered yet—Dom may have updated the file?"

"I also confirmed with the finance department that the money indicated on the monthly report is an accurate reflection of the amount currently in the bank account. The finance department couldn't… or wouldn't… tell me more without authorization from the board, but money was transferred into the alumni donation account a week ago, and the file was updated at the same time."

"Someone deposited money?" Heidi asked.

Paul nodded.

‘Looks like someone was trying to put some money in there, and then cover their tracks by going back and updating the quarterlies. And it was a pretty thorough cover-up, too. The hard copies of the quarterlies that should be on file in the finance department, the headmaster's office, and with the board have all gone missing. We may have the only remaining copies of the original quarterly reports."

"But… why? Why would someone do that?"

He shrugged. "They could have been trying to buy some time, or maybe hoping the board would stop us from poking around if they could make up part of the budget shortfall? I don't know. But, Heidi… The person I spoke to in finance let it slip that the name on the transfer request was Dominic Angelico."

She closed her eyes briefly and then spoke as clearly and confidently as she could.

"They're wrong. Or you're missing something."

"The Internal Review Board for Admissions," he continued mercilessly, "has exactly three members—the teacher with the most seniority, a seventy-year-old English Lit teacher who doesn't understand how to work email; the head of the finance department, Jay Divris, who happens to be the son of the board's most senior member; and the headmaster of the school. It had to be one of those people involved in the bribery scam in the first place. And honey, my money is not on the English teacher."

"What you're suggesting… it's not possible, Paul."

"No, honey," he said in that same gentle voice, dropping his hands to the desk and leaning forward in his chair. "It's the only possibility. And I'm so sorry—I can't tell you how sorry I am—but you've got to see that it's the truth."

Objectively speaking, he made a damn good point—what were the chances that all these signs would point to an innocent man? What were the chances that she'd start dating her neighbor the same week she started investigating his school? But every cell of her body—every single one, even the cells that wondered if this was all too good to be true, and the ones that worried that she was too curvy or too demanding or not submissive enough to please Dom—rejected what Paul had said. That simply wasn't Dom. It wasn't in him to be… sneaky.

"Paul, a month ago I would have believed you. Heck, I would have come to that conclusion even before you did. But you know, you know, that you can't be with someone the way I've been with Dom and not know that it's… real."

Paul huffed impatiently, a teacher with a recalcitrant student who refused to see the answer.

"Then tell me how it happened, Heidi. Because, I swear, I have looked at this every way I know how, and I can't see how anyone else could have done it."

Heidi leaned forward and placed her hands on the desk.

"Couldn't someone else have the password?" she asked.

Paul shook his head.

"Dom's not stupid," he argued. "I'm guessing he doesn't go around giving out his password. And before you suggest it," he held up a hand to stop her from interrupting, "I'm also sure he's smart enough to have changed his password from 1-2-3-4."

Heidi had been about to say that. Drat.

"Okay, well, maybe he told someone he trusted? Maybe he told Louisa… or Jay!" she suggested. And once she had said his name, then a possible scenario formed in her mind.

Paul shook his head again and started to stand, but Heidi grabbed his hand and stopped him.

"Wait, Paul, wait!" she cried. "Listen. Jay was in Dom's office the other day! Dom and I showed up at the school—uh, unexpectedly—on a Saturday… and he was coming out of the headmaster's office! I mean, for all I know, he does that every Saturday, but… what if he used Dom's computer and Dom… I dunno… had the password saved on there?"

Paul sighed.

"You're clutching at straws, Heids."

"Paul, why don't we just ask Dom?"

Paul frowned, then shook his head.

"I don't think it would look very good for us to tip off someone who may be involved before the board has a chance to investigate. I want to believe he's innocent, Heidi, for your sake and because I genuinely like the guy. But things are kind of stacked against him. It's out of our hands now."

"You're going to turn this over to the board and you're asking me to keep it from him? His job is at stake, his professional reputation. I can't do that, Paul," she argued.

"I'm asking you to do just what you intended when you handed me the files, honey," he said, and his tone was gentle but brooked no argument. "To eliminate any conflict of interest, trust me to handle the audit and prepare the information for the board."

She shook her head stubbornly.

"I need to know you're going to keep looking into this, Paul. I need to know you're not going to turn over this incriminating stuff without digging just a little bit deeper."

Paul looked at her with narrowed eyes for a moment.

"This is the real deal for you," he said. "Isn't it? With Dom."

Heidi bit her lip and nodded. "Yeah," she said.

After a moment, Paul nodded too.

"All right. Fine. I guess maybe this is just a little too neatly packaged. I'll give Dom the benefit of the doubt and keep digging. But in the meantime, don't do anything…"

Heidi's phone rang shrilly, interrupting the conversation, and her eyes flew automatically to the clock. Five-fifteen. Shit. She grabbed the phone and accepted the call.

"Hi, honey," she said automatically, her eyes still pleading with Paul. "I'm running—"

"Heidi? Heidi, it's me, Mom."

"Mom?"

God, of all the times to forget to check the display before accepting the call.

"Listen, Mom, it's not a good time right now, can I—"

"Heidi, it's your sister! I don't know what to do! She's been kidnapped by some-some… predator who wants to keep her as his sex slave!"

Her mother was screaming loud enough for Paul to hear, judging by the way he straightened, instantly on alert.

"Mom, calm down," Heidi said, as Paul leaned over the desk to better hear the conversation. "What happened to Hillary?"

"She's disappeared! Kidnapped!"

Only years of experience with her mother's overreactions made it possible for Heidi to stay calm. More than likely, Hillary had spent the night with a boyfriend and forgotten to tell their mother… more likely still, Hillary had told her, and their mother had forgotten as she jetted off to save the emus, or some-such.

"What makes you think she's been kidnapped, Mom? Have you called the police?"

"Oh, the police," her mother scoffed. "Useless! Just like when I tried to tell them about that factory with the toxic waste and they—"

"Mom, you've got to focus," Heidi instructed. "What did the police say about Hillary?"

"They said she's over eighteen, and it seems like it was consensual, and they're not going to do a damn thing. But I know my daughters, Heidi, and I know it could not possibly have been consensual!"

Paul looked at her with wide eyes and shook his head. Is this for real?

Heidi looked at him helplessly and grimaced. I have no idea! She took a deep breath, trying to rein in her patience.

"What was consensual, Mom?" Heidi demanded.

"I called Hillary yesterday, and her roommate, Daphne, said that she was out on a date. And Hillary hadn't mentioned any men to me!"

Because she's smarter than that, Heidi thought. Nothing like getting grilled about your guy's stance on feminism and global warming before you've had your first date.

"So, I told Daphne to have her call me when she came home, and she didn't call, not last night or this morning!"

"She has classes, Mom. She's a senior in college, and she—"

"I'm aware of that, Heidi," her mother said impatiently. "But this morning Daphne called me because Hillary hadn't come home last night, and she wasn't answering her cell phone. And Daphne was worried!"

Heidi exchanged an anxious glance with Paul. If Daphne was worried, the situation had just become more serious.

"Daphne said that Hillary met a man on the Internet," her mother continued. "He was a total stranger. And his name is Marauder. Who calls themselves Marauder, Heidi? Who?"

Paul's eyes widened. Marauder?

"Oh, God. Doesn't she know how many rapes and murders there are every day?" her mother moaned.

"I'm sure she does, Mom. She's a smart girl," Heidi said, even as she felt herself starting to panic. Didn't Hillary know how stupid that was? God.

"Daphne said Hillary left her computer on, so she checked the messages and…" her mother inhaled deeply, then sobbed. "According to her last email, she was planning to take the train to Boston to meet him at some club… Black Box. It's a sex club! And the things he said… Oh! He was going to hurt her, Heidi! And I just know Hillie would never agree to that!"

Paul sat up straight in his chair and motioned for Heidi to cover the phone.

"Hold on just one second, Mom," she said.

Paul wasted no time in relaying his bad news.

"Heidi, I've been to Black Box. Once. And that was enough. That is not a place for a newbies or even girls who like to be spanked once in a while, it's…" he hesitated, as if gauging how much to tell her. "It's serious kink. Deviant stuff. Was your sister into the scene?"

"Not that I know of!" Heidi exclaimed. "Hillie is all into hearts and romance and destiny and forever love! I can't even process this, Paul! What do I do?"

She tried to breathe normally, but the air kept catching in her throat. Despite her best efforts, she was gripped by panic. If the police couldn't do anything, how could they find Hillary?

Paul's eyes raked over her face. He narrowed his own eyes, then seemed to come to a decision. He grabbed his phone and began hitting buttons.

"Heidi? Heidi!" her mother screeched.

"I'm here, Mom," Heidi said. "Okay, you need to call Daphne and… have her forward all the messages to me. I'll-I'll see if anyone knows anything about this club or a guy called Marauder, okay? Can you do that, Mom?"

"I… yes, I can do that," her mother agreed, sniffling.

Before Heidi could hang-up, Paul motioned for her to hand him her phone.

She heard him soothing her mother with, "Hi, Frances? This is Paul," even as he passed his own phone to Heidi with a firm nod.

"Uh... Hello?" Heidi said.

"Baby?"

Dom. Oh, thank God.

"Heidi, honey, tell me what's going on. Paul said your sister is in trouble."

Heidi drew a shuddering breath.

"Dom, Hillie went off with someone, to some club. I have no idea whether she knew what she was getting herself into or not, but she's way too young to be going to sex clubs anyway, and what the hell was she thinking, meeting guys online? What the hell was she thinking, Dom? She's my baby sister and she's been missing since last night, and no one has seen her or knows a single thing about this guy who took her, and she won't answer her phone, and the police won't help! What do you do when the police won't help you??"

By the end, her voice was shrill enough to do her mother proud.

"All right, baby, here's what we're going to do. Are you listening?"

His deep voice was melodic and instantly soothing.

"I'm listening," she whispered.

"Paul is going to drive you home, okay? I'm going to make some calls, and I'm going to get this under control. Do you understand?"

"I… Dom, we need to do something. We can't just sit around making phone calls! My mom knows the name of the club Hillie went to—Black Box—I need to go over there, see if they've seen—"

"Heidi," his voice was firmer this time. Insistent. Warning. It was enough to break through the icy wall of terror that gripped her. "Under no circumstances are you to go near that place. Do you hear me? I will take care of this. You will not find your sister by putting yourself in danger. Do you understand?"

"Y-yes. Yes, I understand," Heidi said, hanging on to his voice like a lifeline.

"Come home to me, Heidi, and I will take care of everything," he vowed.

"O-okay," she agreed, with a nod he couldn't see.

"Tell me what I just said, my good girl," he said softly.

"Come home to you, and you'll take care of Hillie," she repeated.

"That's right, baby. I'll take care of Hillie, and I'll take care of you, too."