Five years later…

Sasha Easton stared up at her older brother with every ounce of defiance she’d schooled her face to deliver. She hoped her narrowed eyes shot daggers at him. After all, she was twenty-two years old, a college graduate, old enough to make her own choices. And she’d made her decision. “You can’t stop me, Rowen,” she growled.

He chuckled, infuriating her further. His stance had already royally pissed her off. The addition of his laughter only made things worse. He was currently leaning against his desk in his corner office on the upper floor of Club Zodiac. “The answer is no, Sasha.”

She cocked one hip to the side, tapping her foot. “It’s not your decision. I’m a grown woman.”

He stopped laughing, stood taller, and tipped his head toward her. Damn her stupid genes for making her eight inches shorter than him. “What’s this really about? Why the sudden interest in Zodiac, or BDSM in general?”

“If you’d ever paid attention, there’s nothing sudden about my interest in submission. It’s always been there, right beneath the surface. I’ve mentioned it to you on numerous occasions, but you wouldn’t listen to me.”

He took a deep breath. “You’re young. I can understand why you’d be curious. Hell, I’m sure it’s my fault. I never should have permitted you to spend your evenings here while I worked. I have no one to blame for that but myself. However, that doesn’t change the fact that you’re not cut out for this lifestyle, and there’s no way I’m going to permit you to join this club.”

“Fine. If you don’t want me to join Zodiac, I’ll get a membership at one of the other clubs in Miami.”

His eyes narrowed further, his face flaming red with frustration. “Fuck no. Not a chance in hell.” The vein on his forehead bulged.

She set her hands on her hips. “Are you listening to yourself? The double standard is atrocious. You were eighteen when you joined Zodiac. I’m four years older than that. So get off your high horse and stop being a chauvinist pig.”

Rowen leaned in closer. “Don’t go there,” he gritted out. “You know I treat women like they’re royalty. Don’t you dare insinuate I think I’m superior. I have never once treated a woman as anything less than my equal.”

Fury rose inside her, making her hands shake while flushing her cheeks a bright red to rival his. She glared at him, forcing herself to calm down before she spoke again. It wouldn’t do any good to prove him right by acting like a child. If she wanted him to treat her like an adult, she needed to gather her wits and remain outwardly calm, albeit persuasive.

He was right about one thing—it was his fault she’d been introduced to BDSM in the first place, but she was also convinced she would have figured it out on her own eventually. Perhaps she would have wasted years of her life not being true to herself if she hadn’t known at a young age she was submissive.

However, she couldn’t really blame her brother for indirectly introducing her to the lifestyle. She’d been twelve years old when their mother died and Rowen had been forced to take on a baby sister who had no doubt been a pain in his ass.

Rowen had been twenty-two at the time. The ten-year age difference was vast. The two of them had different fathers, neither of whom were in the picture. Rowen’s father had been killed serving in the military and then Sasha’s father had skipped town the moment he’d found out her mother was pregnant.

Nevertheless, their mother had been a great mom, doing everything she could to provide for them and keep them fed and clothed. An aneurism had taken her life, leaving Sasha with no living relative other than her brother.

Sasha took a breath and forced her voice to calm. “I know you’re an amazing man. You’ve always treated women with respect. I’m asking you to extend the same respect to me, Rowen. I’m not a kid anymore. You don’t have to protect me. And I’m also not a private in your platoon, so drop the drill sergeant act too.”

Rowen flinched. She’d hit a nerve with that last sentence. Not surprising. She’d had to point out his tendency to shout orders at her like she was his subordinate in the army many times since she’d moved in with him ten years ago. He’d only served four years, but the habits were engrained.

She also wasn’t wrong when she played the age card. Rowen had been a member of Club Zodiac since he’d turned eighteen. He had frequented the place every time he was at home on leave, and when he started college upon his return, he’d taken a job working at the club to help defer some of his expenses.

Even at twelve, Sasha had been smart enough to know she was cramping his style. He’d thought Sasha was too young to be left in his apartment until the middle of the night. In the end, Rowen and John had struck a deal, and Rowen had reluctantly brought Sasha with him.

Sasha hadn’t known what her brother did at the club at first. She’d had no clue for at least two years. All she’d known was that she sat upstairs in John’s office doing her homework and watching television every Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday night while Rowen tended bar.

It wasn’t until one night when she was fourteen that she’d arrived late after studying at a friend’s house and noticed how scantily dressed many of the patrons were. Rowen had found her in the entrance to the club, starry-eyed and tongue-tied. He’d ushered her straight up the stairs to the office and given her a firm lecture, rambling on about adult decisions and keeping her eyes on her education.

The two minutes she’d stood in the entry, seeing more than she ever should have seen, were imbedded in her mind for life.

From that day forward, she’d spent countless hours searching the internet and reading about BDSM clubs. She also started reading novels that featured everything anyone could possibly imagine related to dominance and submission. It intrigued her. It formed her. Now, it was her.

Rowen must not have liked the way she stood before him no longer speaking, because he ran a hand through his hair in exasperation. “Dammit, Sasha. Sit down.” He pointed at the black leather loveseat against the wall of his office. “I need to check on a few things before we open. If you so much as move an inch…”

She watched his back as he stomped out of the office. She had no intention of sitting on his damn couch, mostly because he’d demanded it of her. Instead, she wandered toward the window and stared down at the traffic moving along the Miami streets below.

She needed to take this opportunity to regroup and gain the upper hand. Acting like a bratty teenager would get her nowhere. She leaned her forehead against the cool glass and closed her eyes.

Three years ago, Rowen and his friend Carter had bought into the business, joining Lincoln Walsh as part owners. Lincoln still owned a majority interest, but the club had grown and expanded enough that he needed more help. Rowen had an accounting degree, so he took over the financial side of things. Carter was a bodybuilder, so he became head bouncer and doorman.

And then there was Lincoln.

Sasha had a love-hate relationship with the club’s head owner. She had never gotten over the way he’d treated her the night she met him, but neither of them had ever mentioned the incident again.

A full year passed before she saw him for the second time, and by then Lincoln, Rowen, and Carter were close friends. It wasn’t surprising. The three of them bonded over their military background. Carter had joined the army at the same time as Rowen and then did two tours before getting out and coming to Miami. Lincoln had joined the army two years after his friends, also right out of high school. Sasha still didn’t know why he’d left the service and ended up running a club in Miami, Florida, but his experience had drawn the three men together.

Lincoln hadn’t changed one bit since the night she’d met him. He was just as sexy, domineering, and larger than life as he’d been the night of her seventeenth birthday.

Sasha rarely saw him over the years, partly because he intimidated her on a level that pissed her off. Partly because he’d treated her like a pariah the first time they’d met. But most importantly, it unnerved her to admit she was not only still attracted to him, but no man she’d ever met since that day had been able to live up to the standard Lincoln Walsh had set in her mind between the moment he’d stepped into the room and the second he’d dropped her hand after greeting her.

Over the years, Sasha had remained friendly with the rest of the staff. She no longer lived with her brother, but she regularly saw them at his house or whenever she stopped by the club. She’d known all of them so well before finding out what sort of club they worked at that she never once thought of any of Rowen’s friends as anything other than regular people who happened to also enjoy some level of kink in their lives.

The door to Rowen’s office opened behind her, jerking her back to the present. She spun around, startled from her memories.

Luckily, the person who stepped into the office and shut the door was not her brother. It was Rayne Bryant, her brother’s on-again-off-again girlfriend. Apparently this week they were “on.”

Sasha forced a smile to her face and stepped from the window. “Hey, Rayne.”

Rayne frowned at her. “You okay? You look flustered.”

Sasha sighed as she came to the loveseat and plopped down on one end. “I ought to. I’ve been arguing with my pigheaded brother.”

Rayne chuckled. “Rowen? Pigheaded? Surely you jest.” Rayne’s voice was filled with sarcasm. If anyone knew how pigheaded Rowen was, it was Rayne. She lowered her sophisticated self onto the other cushion of the couch and crossed her elegant legs.

Sasha loved her. She had loved her from the moment Rowen first introduced them a year ago. Rayne was sleek and stylish for every occasion, even if all the two of them intended to do was rent movies and order pizza. Tonight she wore a black pencil skirt that fit her perfectly, a deep purple, silk blouse, and black pumps that were at least four inches high. If Sasha had to guess, she’d say Rayne had come from the law office where she worked as a paralegal while she put herself through law school.

Sasha knew for a fact that her brother adored Rayne. And the feeling was obviously mutual. There was one problem—Rayne had little interest in BDSM, and the subject had caused more than one heated discussion between them.

“What’d he do this time?” Rayne asked, her right hand draped casually across her knee, the dozen dainty, silver bracelets jingling. Her perfectly straight chocolate-brown hair was pulled back in a sleek ponytail at the nape of her neck, a silver clip holding it all in place.

If she were any other person, Sasha would feel inept and ridiculous in her presence. But she was just Rayne. She wasn’t judgmental or pretentious. Never once had she made Sasha feel like anything less than her equal in the year they’d known each other.

“He still thinks of me as a kid he can boss around.”

Rayne rolled her eyes. “I can see that. He sometimes talks about you that way too. I have to remind him you’re a grown adult with a college degree, your own apartment, and a job. I think he feels a sense of responsibility for you that he’s unable to let go of.”

“I get that. He practically raised me. And I appreciate everything he’s done for me in the last ten years. Without him, I have no idea what would have happened to me after Mom died.”

All of that was true. And every time Sasha fought with her brother, she felt a sense of guilt. She owed him her life. He worked his ass off nights and weekends to support them. When he finished his college degree in accounting, he continued to work an extra job to save for Sasha’s education.

She loved him. She knew he meant well for her. But he needed to back off.

Rayne sighed. “I’m sorry, hon. Is there anything I can do? I’ll talk to him if you want.”

Sasha shook her head. “Not this time. I can fight this battle. I don’t need his permission to do anything. I just like to keep him informed is all. In a way, I think of him as a parent. But if he’s going to continue to be an ass about my choices, I’ll stop telling him my plans.”

Rayne smiled. She was only two years older than Sasha. She was lucky Rowen didn’t boss her around too. Although maybe he did. Who knew? “Stick up for yourself,” Rayne advised. “Don’t let him push you around. You know your mind. You’re a mature woman with a fantastic head on your shoulders.”

“I am.” Sasha sat up straighter. This conversation with Rayne was exactly what she needed. As soon as Rowen returned to the office, she would put her foot down and let him have it.