“Bullshit! He was amazing, Vanessa. Seriously, he took me to this place that looks like it fell out of the 1920s, and then started swing dancing with me!” Cassandra laughed, leaning back in her chair to clap her hands together. “I swear, I’ve never been so shocked in my life, and I was getting plenty of death glares from some of the other ladies there.”

  “I don’t think—”

  “That’s awesome!” Vanessa said, cutting him off as she leaned an elbow on the table. “So, where did you learn to dance? Cassandra said she didn’t know.”

  “My father put me in classes when I was a kid,” he answered, not seeing why it was important as he took another small sip of his second old-fashioned. He didn’t want to finish it, he wanted a clear head when they started playing, but with this line of questioning he might just down it.

  “Dance classes? That’s pretty forward thinking,” Wyatt said. “My mom was a ballerina when she was younger, but she never suggested it to me.”

  A bitter laugh slipped past Logan’s lips. “Yeah, it definitely wasn’t forward thinking. He put me in ballroom dance classes because he didn’t want me embarrassing the family at social functions.”

  “Ouch,” Vanessa replied, a wince passing over her face. “I’m guessing you hated it?”

  “The ballroom dance? Absolutely. I think I was ten when he made me start going, and I didn’t know how to talk to girls, or want to, and most of the girls that had to be there weren’t exactly excited either.” He shrugged, stealing another sip of his drink as he remembered too many awkward moments of placing his hand on a girl’s hip he didn’t even know before he’d even had his first kiss. “I only liked going there after the teachers let me switch to the swing classes two or three years in.”

  “Well, it paid off, because holy shit was it sexy!” Cassandra winked at him, and he couldn’t suppress the urge to smile.

  “I’m glad you enjoyed the date.”

  “I’m sorry he forced you into it though,” Vanessa said, sighing as she leaned back with her wine. “As talented as Cassandra says you are, who knows? You could have been at the ballet with me!”

  Logan shook his head, chuckling a little. “Yeah, I don’t think that was ever in the cards. I didn’t exactly have a choice about my future.” His laughter faded as he looked around the table and saw that they all had vaguely concerned expressions, something dangerously close to pity. Shit. “Enough about me though. Cassandra said you’re performing in The Nutcracker at the Dudorov Ballet right now?”

  “She is,” Wyatt spoke up, saving him from the awkward silence at the table, and the man was looking at Vanessa like she hung the moon. “And she’s breathtaking as the Sugar Plum Fairy, which is the role she was born to perform.”

  “Sir…” Vanessa groaned, blushing brightly.

  “It’s true! It’s a Grand pas de deux, and it’s her first year as a principal dancer, and she got it.”

  “I only got the part because Tori moved to New York to join a different company, and— OW!” Vanessa gasped, looking over at Wyatt with a half-shocked, half-laughing look, and Logan was pretty sure he’d just pinched his sub’s thigh.

  “Want to correct that?” Wyatt asked, voice hard.

  Sighing, Vanessa leaned back in her chair with a look of sass he recognized well, and her tone spoke volumes of how little she believed her next words. “I earned the role of the Sugar Plum Fairy through hard work and dedication.”

  “Oh, I’m going to make you pay for that, little whore,” Wyatt whispered across the table, and the blush spread rapidly across Vanessa’s face.

  “Yes, sir,” she answered quietly, but Logan could tell she was excited by the idea as her dom sat back with a huff.

  “For the record, she actually did earn it through hard work and dedication, even if she doesn’t believe it, and while I don’t appreciate watching Michael put his hands all over my girlfriend… it’s worth it to watch Vanessa turn her body into music.”

  “Michael is married!” Vanessa said through a laugh, but one hard look from Wyatt had her silent again.

  “Well, I wish I knew more about the ballet, because all of that sounds very impressive,” Logan interjected, ending the pair’s staring contest.

  “We should go see her then!” Cassandra piped up, a broad smile on her face again. “I already told Vanessa I plan on seeing the show, and if you’ll go with me, sir, we can make it another date.”

  “Is that you trying to bribe me into going?” Logan chuckled, shaking his head at Cassandra’s obvious ploy. “There’s no need. I think it’s been years since I saw The Nutcracker, and I’d be happy to go with you and see Vanessa work her magic, even if you refuse to call it a date.”

  “Why wouldn’t you call it a date?” Vanessa asked, grinning at Cassandra as she leaned over to nudge her. “Sounds like a date to me.”

  “Cassandra seems to think that I’m incapable of problem solving around her travel schedule, which we would need to do if she decided to actually ‘date’ me.” Logan smirked as Cassandra’s mouth dropped open.

  “That is not what—”

  “Lying is most definitely a punishable offense,” he interrupted, staring at her as he toyed with the half-full glass in front of him. Not drinking any more tonight. I want to be present for each and every cry she’s earned.

  “It absolutely is,” Wyatt confirmed, raising an eyebrow as he crossed his arms over his chest. “And I seem to remember that when you mentioned this to Vanessa over lunch that you promised me you would discuss those concerns with Logan.”

  Interesting.

  “Oh, she discussed it with me,” he confirmed, glancing over at Wyatt with a smirk. “And she agreed to call our night out a date, but it’s clear she still doesn’t think I’m capable of problem solving the situation with her traveling for work.”

  “Vanessa! A little help here?” Cassandra asked on a laugh. “I’m getting ganged up on by two doms, and it’s nowhere near as hot as I thought it would be.”

  Raising her hands in the air, Vanessa shook her head. “Oh, no, I’m not getting involved in this.”

  “Traitor,” Cassandra muttered, sighing as she looked back at him. “If I made you feel that way, sir, I didn’t mean to.”

  “How else would you describe it?” he asked, even though he already regretted starting this conversation in front of her friends. This should have been had in private, but it seemed like she’d already mentioned it to them… before she’d even discussed it with him… so maybe it was fair game.

  “Me being overly cautious,” she answered, flashing her broad smile as she waved a hand dismissively. “It’s not like we need to worry about it tonight anyway, sir. The important thing tonight was proving that you could have a bestie in Wyatt, and it seems like you two have hit it off!”

  “A bestie?” Wyatt echoed, glancing over at him like he’d had something to do with the term.

  “Don’t ask me,” Logan replied, raising his hands. “This is all Cassandra.”

  “Come on! You guys would be perfect friends. You’re both business guys, both doms in the lifestyle, and Vanessa and I are already friends.” Cassandra shrugged. “It only makes sense.”

  “Please?” Vanessa added on, and Wyatt spoke first.

  “I think Logan and I could have managed swapping contact info without either of you meddling, but fine. We’ll do it right now so you can drop it.” Digging out his wallet, he plucked a business card from it to slap on the table. “Go get me a pen from the bar, Vanessa.”

  “Yes, sir!” she chimed, jumping out of her seat to obey.

  “I agree with Wyatt.” Pulling out his wallet, Logan grabbed one of his business cards as well. “I appreciate the intention behind it, but it seems you two forget who’s in charge when we’re here.”

  “Good point,” Wyatt replied, chuckling as Vanessa slipped back into her seat and offered him the pen.

  “What’s a good point?” she asked, looking around the table.

  “That you two have been quite bossy about this entire little evening, and that you both might benefit from a reminder of just who is in charge when we’re at Black Light.” Wyatt scribbled on the back of his business card, sliding it over with the pen. He’d written down his cellphone number.

  “We didn’t mean anything by it,” Vanessa said, sounding more than a little defensive. “We were trying to help.”

  “And you did need the help. Sir,” Cassandra tacked the title on the end as an afterthought to her smartass comment, and Logan just chuckled as he added his cell to the back of his business card and passed it to Wyatt.

  “That just earned you a whole lot of edging, brat.” Tilting his head, Logan tapped the pen against his chin, pretending to think very hard. “Or, maybe, I won’t let you come at all tonight. I’ll just light your ass up and then put you on your knees. Finish in your throat, since I didn’t get to last time.”

  For once, Cassandra’s eyes widened. “You wouldn’t.”

  Grinning, Logan leaned back in his chair to tuck away Wyatt’s info and slide his wallet back into his pocket. “I guess we’ll have to see just how well you can behave the rest of the night.”

  “Sir, come on, I was joking!” Cassandra looked around the table, glancing at Wyatt and Vanessa as if they might offer any kind of salvation from whatever he decided for the evening. Eventually, she just looked back at him and sighed, a smile creeping over her lips. “Well, it looks like I have to be a good girl, sir.”

  “Think you can handle that?” he asked, chuckling, and soon enough Vanessa and Wyatt joined in. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one who knew Cassandra’s brat side.

  “Probably not,” Cassandra admitted, bursting into laughter herself, and as he watched her joyous self-deprecation, he realized he hadn’t thought about the bullshit at work in almost an hour. He actually felt… good. Relaxed. Maybe even a little happy?

  And Wyatt wasn’t a bad guy. He was someone Logan could actually see himself talking to at the club, or maybe even meeting for drinks… which meant Cassandra had been right about the man.

  Although Logan would never admit that out loud.

  No, it was better to keep her guessing, to keep her on her toes before the scene, and he had so many ideas for just how he could punish his brat for all those eyerolls, her sass, and her scheming.

  “Why don’t we go see what equipment is available for handling naughty, bossy submissives?” Wyatt suggested, pushing back his chair to stand and Logan followed suit with a grin.

  “That sounds like a great idea.”

  “Told you they’d be friends,” Cassandra whispered to Vanessa, grinning.

  Bad girl.

  Logan laughed darkly as he moved around the table, stopping just behind Cassandra to grip the back of her neck and lift her out of her seat with a firm hold. The little sound she made as her chair slid back was perfection. Cassandra was independent, damn good at what she did, but in Black Light she was his, and he needed to remind her of that. Leaning in close, Logan put his lips close to her ear, breathing in the incredible scent of her. “Oh, my naughty little brat, I’m going to greatly enjoy making you scream and beg tonight.”

  “Don’t you always?” she whispered, her voice breathy with arousal, and he felt his cock twitch in response as he chuckled.

  “Absolutely.”

  Chapter 16

  Cassandra

  “I like this one,” Roberta Price said, tapping one of the photos on the screen, then she tapped another. “And this one.”

  “You don’t think my neck has a weird angle in that one?” Cassandra asked, narrowing her eyes at the computer monitor.

  “I think it shows off how long your neck is, and how you can pull off those more artsy poses that the high fashion people adore.” Checking the picture in question, Roberta added the first one as well. “I’m not saying it’ll be in your final portfolio, but I want to see full prints of these.”

  “Okay,” Cassandra conceded. Roberta Price was known for her skill in the industry, and she trusted her eye. After all, Jaxson and Chase had put their careers in her hands, and they’d been at the top of a hundred designers’ lists when they retired. Skimming the photos as Roberta scrolled, she reached out and tapped one. “Oh, that one, definitely.”

  “Nice eye! Yes, that angle you’ve got at your waist here is great. Which designer was that?” Roberta mumbled, flipping through the shoot notes at her side.

  “Oscar de la Renta,” she answered, and then she sighed as more images scrolled by. “A lot of these are amazing. I loved that dress.”

  “It comes through in the photos,” Roberta replied, winking at her as she clicked a few more photos to move to the next round of decision making. “Maybe he’ll book you for a show!”

  Cassandra couldn’t stifle the eyeroll as the excitement bubbled up inside her. “Right, he’s going to want me.”

  “Shush,” her agent snapped, elbowing her. “Having an attitude like that isn’t going to bring you any luck from the universe.”

  “You’re right,” Cassandra sighed, leaning back from the computer to rub her eyes. She was getting a headache from looking at the thousands of photos from the shoot the day before, and they’d been at it for hours.

  Hours? Fuck!

  “What time is it?” Cassandra asked, standing up to look for her purse.

  “Twelve-thirty, why?” Roberta answered, turning in her chair.

  “Shit, shit, shit!”

  “Have a date or something?” her agent asked, laughing slightly, but when Cassandra just gave her a guilty look Roberta burst into a smile. “You do! You do have a date!”

  “Yes, a lunch date, and I’m going to be late.” Groaning, Cassandra dug out her phone and pulled up Lyft. Thirty-one minutes. Double-fuck. “Definitely late.”

  “Well, go on! We have plenty chosen to move forward. I’ll finish reviewing the last photos and we’ll meet again to review the final choices before the dinner with Elite, okay?”

  “You’re a life saver,” Cassandra replied, leaning down to press a kiss to Roberta’s cheek before she rushed out the door, firing off a text to Logan as she took the stairs down.

  Running late, so sorry! I’ll be there in thirty.

  Just as she made it out into the mid-day sun, she felt her phone buzz in her hand. Logan had already replied, but he didn’t seem upset at all based on the short text.

  See you soon.

  Thirty-four minutes later, Cassandra’s Lyft driver pulled up outside the towering office building that held Whitney Asset Management. Logan had told her the company existed over several of the floors, but he was on forty-one, and her name would be with security at the front desk.

  As soon as she entered the lobby she felt out of place in her comfy sweater and skinny jeans. The massive space was eerily quiet, with a ceiling that had to be several stories up. There were a few groupings of black chairs around steel-and-glass tables, but no one was sitting at them. It was just the guard at the large security desk centered between two elevator banks, with simple garland and a neutral holiday wreath decorating the front. The heels on her boots sounded too loud as she approached, echoing off the walls, but at least the man behind the desk knew she was coming.

  “Are you here for an appointment?” he asked, tone way colder than necessary.

  “Um, kind of? I’m here to see Logan Chisholm.”

  “Cassandra Moreira?” The guard said her name in the same deadpan tone he’d asked about the appointment.

  “That’s me! He’s with—”

  “Whitney Asset Management, right. I have your name here.” He pointed to his left. “Take that elevator. I’ll unlock floor forty-one for you.”

  “Thank you!” Cassandra said cheerily, offering him a smile that he pointedly didn’t return as he stared back at the wide desk in front of him. Rolling her eyes as soon as the elevator doors shut, she laughed under her breath at the awkward interaction. If she ever had a job she hated that much, she’d just leave. Whatever the man was making couldn’t be worth being that unhappy all day, every day.

  It took almost no time at all to fly up the building, and she could feel the pressure of gravity tugging at her, and then the almost light-headed sensation as the elevator slowed.

  Weird.

  The doors opened into a very nice waiting area, and a much friendlier face greeted her behind the massive desk that had ‘Whitney Asset Management’ on the front in large silver letters and a little Christmas tree tucked in the corner beside it.

  “Hello! You’re Ms. Moreira, right?” the young woman asked, stepping out from behind the desk to meet her at the elevator doors.

  “I am! I’m here to see—”

  “Mr. Chisholm,” the woman finished for her, still smiling as she tilted her head toward one of the hallways and started walking. “This way! He told us you were coming.”

  “Oh, great!” Cassandra replied, keeping pace with the woman’s quick strides. She was in a pencil skirt with a white blouse, the shiny stilettos on her feet clicking over the tile until they met a carpet runner. “So, what’s your name?”

  “Me?” the girl slowed, turning to look at Cassandra as she caught up to walk beside her. “I’m Aubrey, but I’m just the front-desk secretary for the executive floor.”

  Cassandra laughed a little. “So? I just wanted to know who was helping me out. You’re way nicer than the asshole downstairs.”

  Aubrey bit down on a laugh, her cheeks turning pink as her rapid pace slowed to something closer to a walk than a march. “That’s Mr. Dover, and he’s not exactly great at customer service. Takes the whole security job a little too seriously.”

  “Apparently. I think I’ve seen more personality in a potato,” Cassandra said quietly, and Aubrey laughed, hushing herself quickly.

  “Oh my God, I’m going to have to use that one.”

  “It’s yours.” She smiled as the young woman followed a bend in the hall, and the space opened up. Warm, dark wood doors appeared at random intervals, and in front of each was a large desk occupied by another professionally dressed employee. “Who are they?” she whispered.

 

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