She rolls her eyes. “You need to loosen up. Working in some club isn’t exactly the Fortune 500, you don’t need to follow the rules all the time. So you get a little something-something after hours? What’s the worst that can happen?”

  Only that I throw away my shot at my dream job.

  I shake my head again. “No. No way. I can’t do it again, no matter how sexy he is.”

  Sexy, and strong, and dominant...

  “Oh my God, you really do like him,” Tasha crows. “Look at you, you’ve gone all red.”

  “Have not. It’s the reflection off the nail polish,” I mumble.

  “Zoe’s gonna get laid!” she says, sing-song, until I whack a pillow at her. She laughs.

  “I’m serious, girl, you need to lighten up. What’s the use of being young if you can’t have some fun?”

  I focus on not smudging my polish instead. She doesn’t realize, but she’s the devil on my shoulder right now, and I don’t need any more encouragement on top of my already-tempting thoughts of another sexy, no-strings hook-up with Dax -- and all the incredible pleasure that would entail.

  Except there are strings. Big, messy tangled strings. Like the fact that I’m out to expose his club to the world.

  For the first time, I feel a little stab of guilt. I never thought about it, but running this article would cause Dax serious problems. None of his members would ever trust him again after getting their names and faces splashed across the front page of the New York Daily.

  But I’m not out to expose people for simply going to the club, I remind myself. I’m looking for a real story: corruption, bribes, illegal activity. If Dax runs a clean shop, he’s got nothing to worry about. But those notes I found in his office make me even more certain something twisted is going on in that place.

  And I’m going to find him out.

  *

  Tasha and I spend most of the day lounging around watching TV, until finally she gets dressed and grabs her bag. “I’ve got an audition for a new show,” she tells me, looking optimistic. “Wish me luck!”

  “Break a leg,” I call after her, as she closes the door behind her.

  The minute I’m alone, I get up and grab my folder from my bedroom and go spread the contents on the living room floor. It has everything I’ve been working on for the story, all my notes and leads.

  I managed to get a blueprint of the club from public records, to see if there are any hidden back-rooms for dirty deals, but there’s nothing. Dax files his taxes every year, just like a legitimate businessman, and he doesn’t have any criminal record or marks against his name.

  I grab my laptop, and decide to research him more. For the story, of course. A quick Google search later, and I’ve learned a whole lot more: he opened his first bar in Brooklyn, a super-hip speakeasy that got rave reviews and drew huge crowds. After that, another bar, and the club. There’s hardly any personal information here, but I do find a business profile of him from a couple of years ago.

  “I didn’t go to college, I took business classes at night while I worked two jobs and planned my company. There’s no one way to do this; everything I learned I put into practice from the ground up.”

  Wow. I didn’t realize Dax was self-made. Most of the successful businessmen in the city seem to have come from Ivy League schools with a silver spoon in their mouths and a slew of built-in investor cronies to bankroll their big dreams, but he’s worked his way up with determination, a lot of effort, and his bare hands.

  “The most important thing to me is loyalty. I won’t do business with people I can’t trust.”

  That guilt starts to work its way back to the surface, so I slam my laptop shut. I’m not going to find out what I need sitting around here. There’s still too much I don’t know about Dax, so I decide to take the research on the road and go find out what he does with his time during daylight hours.

  I pulled his home address from his business license, so after a quick shower, I throw on some clothes and head downtown. I’m trying to be professional and think about him as the subject of my article, but it’s hard when every other subway stop I slip into sends memories of his body looming over me; the look of fierce lust in his eyes...

  Clearly, I need to avoid getting stuck in confined spaces with him. Maybe he’s got pheromones pumping through the air vents in his office, because right now I’m two for two on spur-of-the-moment hookups there.

  And I can’t afford a third strike.

  Exiting the subway, I find the right street and check for the number. It’s a trendy, up and coming neighborhood with designer stores and hip bars, and I find Dax’s building sandwiched between a snooty-looking men’s tailor, and a store selling cocktail accessories. I check the buzzer, but there’s just one entry call. The whole building belongs to him.

  I spot a coffee shop across the street, so I go buy a latte and settle in a seat by the window. As I wait, I feel a new admiration for Dax. I’m laboring under stacks of student loans, while he’s managed to build several successful businesses, and owns property too. Sure, he’s older than me, but it couldn’t have been easy with his background. Clearly, he’s as determined outside the bedroom as he seems to be in it.

  I flip through my notebook, making idle notes as I try to plan the next stage of my investigation. The threatening notes are key, I just know it. I look at them again on my phone, but they’re both anonymous, with nothing giving away who sent them.

  Blackmail? I scribble, circling it several times. And if it is, what do they have on Dax -- and what is Dax willing to do to keep his secrets under wraps?

  It’s beyond frustrating. When I had the first idea to go undercover, I thought it would be simple: go in, get my story, and get out. But the more I learn about the club and Dax, the more complicated it becomes. The Underground seems to be a den of secrets, with everyone hiding something, and nobody willing to reveal the truth.

  Including me.

  A flash of movement from across the street catches my eye. I look up in time to see a fancy Lamborghini pull up outside Dax’s building. He gets out of the driver’s side, looking devastatingly casual in dark jeans and a black sweater.

  God, he’s hot.

  He circles around the car and opens the passenger side door. A woman gets out.

  My stomach drops. She’s beautiful: young, with glossy dark hair and a vivid smile. She says something to Dax, sliding her arm around his waist, and he laughs.

  I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look this relaxed, this happy.

  I can’t believe it.

  I stare at them in disbelief, my mind racing. He has a girlfriend? What the hell was he doing pushing me down over his desk and tugging off my panties when he’s with someone?

  Asshole!

  This is like Troy all over again, except worse.

  All that bullshit in the magazine about loyalty and honestly, and all along he’s running around getting some on the side. What was I to him: just another cheap slut?

  I stuff my things into my bag, ready to storm out the minute he’s gone. But the nightmare isn’t over. As I watch in horror, he opens the back door of the car and lifts out a small boy with black hair who’s about ten years old.

  Dax swings the kid up on his shoulders, and turns back to the woman. Smiling. Happy.

  The perfect family.

  What the fuck?

  CHAPTER SIX

  DAX

  By the time I get to the club that night, I’ve made up my mind: Kate Kendell has got to go.

  I just can’t take the risk. Sure, her mouth is the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted -- aside from her delicious pussy -- and I haven’t even begun to explore either of them the way I want, but business is business.

  And she’s trouble.

  The kind of trouble that would be damn fun to get into -- balls deep.

  Don’t go thinking with your cock again.

  I stride in the main lounge area and look around, ready to read her the riot act. A smart girl like her will be able to find another job quickly enough, if a job really was what she wanted from me.

  Some of the other hostesses are around, but there’s no sign of her yet. Jimmy is setting things up behind the bar. He sends me a salute, and I nod back. He’s still on probation in my book, but I’m hoping he comes through for me. We have too much history for me not to give him this second chance. And he looks pretty decent in that suit I loaned him. This job could be good for him.

  But I’m not the only one with a lot riding on this. Jimmy has a lot of fences to mend, not just with me.

  “Have you seen Kate Kendell?” I stop one of the hostesses as she passes. Anna, the other new hire.

  “No, I don’t think she’s in yet.” Anna looks around. “Shall I tell her you want to see her?”

  “Yes,” I snap. I can’t hide my annoyance. I wanted this over with as soon as possible, before she had time to clock in and start her shift. “Have her come to my office as soon as she gets in.”

  “Yes, Mr. Ryan.” Anna looks uneasy. She quickly scurries away.

  I head back to the office, and deal with paperwork while the club fills up outside. I keep waiting for a knock on the door, but none comes.

  My annoyance grows.

  Where the hell is she?

  Nobody keeps me waiting like this. It’s unthinkable -- but I already know Kate isn’t a fan of following the rules.

  The only explanation is that she didn’t show up for work tonight. After the scene in my office, she’s decided to cut her losses and quit.

  Even though I was planning on firing her myself, I feel strangely disappointed. I wanted to see her again, even if it was just to send her packing out the door.

  It’s midnight before I grab my jacket and go out to make my rounds. The club is buzzing as usual, full of Manhattan’s elite ready to escape into my fantasy world.

  “We have a few VIPs tonight,” Dominique murmurs, nodding discreetly to the corner booth. I recognize Andrew Lansley, an up-and-coming politician in the city government, mixing with a couple of Fortune 500 CEOs. Rumor has it, he’s about to announce his run for mayor.

  “Send over the Brut,” I tell her, “Compliments of the house.”

  Dominique nods and glides away. She’s the perfect employee: discreet, organized, and ambitious. She came to me fresh out of business school -- which she paid for by moonlighting as a high-class dominatrix. These days, she leaves the whips at home, and prefers to use her withering stare to keep everyone in line.

  “Looks like a busy night.” There’s a slap on my shoulder. I turn and realize it’s my buddy Cam. He’s a successful businessman by day, and one of my regulars by night. At least, he used to be.

  “Hey man, good to see you,” I greet him, with genuine warmth. “Where’s Isabelle?” I ask.

  Cam nods to the stunning blonde turning heads by the bar. “We’ve got a reservation on the Opal suite later.”

  I smile. “Special occasion?”

  Cam chuckles, “Every night with that woman is a special occasion.”

  “Damn. I remember the days you were a sworn bachelor.” I shake my head.

  “Hey, you were the one who told me to go out and find myself a relationship,” Cam replies.

  “And you went one better, and got a fiancée.” I’m only kidding with him. I’m happy to see him so settled, and with a submissive match too. But I do miss our days raising hell here together with our pick of the most beautiful guests.

  “Can I get you a drink, sir?” A hostess pauses by Cam and flashes him a warm smile.

  It’s Kate.

  What the hell?

  She seems totally calm, dressed in a kinky little black lace dress and stiletto heels.

  “I’ve been looking for you,” I snap. “Didn’t you get my message?”

  She flicks her gaze at me. “I’ve been busy.”

  I tense at her blatant disobedience. “Go to my office. Now,” I order her.

  “I’m working,” she shrugs before turning back to Cam. “You look like a cabernet kind of guy,” she coos at him. “How about a glass?”

  “Too right. Make it a bottle,” Cam replies, looking amused.

  “Coming right up.”

  She sashays away, leaving me speechless with rage.

  “I like her,” Cam smirks.

  “Too bad. She’s fired,” I growl. I can’t believe she just spoke back to me like that -- on the floor of my club.

  “Really?” Cam gives me a look. “Then why didn’t you tell her to get out right now?”

  I pause. “Because... I’m going to give her a piece of my mind first,” I quickly recover.

  “Sure. That’s what you want to give her.” Cam chuckles. “Well, good luck to you. Something tells me you’re not her favorite person right now.”

  “What? Why?” I frown. What does she have to be pissed about? I’m the one who’s getting screwed here.

  Cam falls silent without answering me as Kate returns with his bottle of wine. She pours his glass carefully, sets the bottle on the table, and gives him another smile. “Enjoy your night,” she says. “Just let me know what else I can do for you. Your partner is already waiting in your suite,” she adds with a wink. “She says to take your time. She’ll start without you.”

  “Thanks.” Cam smiles. “You know, I think Dax here could use a glass to unwind.”

  Kate glares at me. “He can pour it himself,” she snaps, before stalking off.

  The hostility in her eyes shocks me. What does she have to be so pissed about? As far as I recall, she’s the one who’s come screaming -- or close -- every time we hooked up. Not to mention whatever secrets she’s been hiding. Now she’s disrespecting me in public?

  I don’t understand this girl. And as much as I hate to admit it, something about that turns me on.

  When I look back at Cam, he’s still smiling. “You went there, huh?”

  “No.” But I can’t maintain eye contact for long.

  “Sure.” I can hear the sly grin in Cam’s voice.

  I’m not in the mood for his ribbing. I get up, barely containing my rage. What gives her the right to speak to me like that?

  “I’ll see you later,” I nod, then stride after Kate into the crowd. I can’t believe I let her get under my skin like this, but the way she’s acting is totally out of order. Never mind the fact that I’m her boss, even if I were simply a member, it would be unacceptable.

  She needs to be taught a lesson.

  Kate moves through the exhibition room, pausing to clear a table. The platform is free, between shows, but a group is forming around it, ready for the next display. I can see one of our experts, Finn, preparing his tools for a demonstration.

  I have an idea.

  I change directions, going to join Finn on the stage. “Mind if I take this one?” I murmur.

  Finn looks surprised. I don’t participate in floor shows anymore, but tonight is different. “Go ahead, boss. You need anything else?”

  I glance at the table. He has a paddle, flogger, and restraints laid out. “This should be everything I need.”

  “It’s all yours.” He respectfully steps back, and then sounds the small gong to signal the show. The small crowd goes silent, and turns their attention to the stage. At the back of the room, I see Kate pause, watching.

  She always was the curious one.

  I step forward. “Tonight’s demonstration requires a volunteer.” I look around the room. There are plenty of eager female faces, submissives who would love to feel the sting of leather against flesh. But I ignore them, and hone in on Kate, lingering in the back.

  “You.”

  My voice echoes. People turn. For a moment, she looks like a deer caught in headlights.

  “You’ve made it clear you’re very busy tonight,” I add, scathing. “But aren’t you... curious?”

  I meet her gaze with a challenge.

  She pauses, then her lips twist in a tight smile. Challenge accepted.

  She puts down her tray and walks over, climbing the few steps and joining me on the raised stage. “What do I have to do?” Kate asks, looking around. She sees the table of tools, and a flicker of unease crosses her face.

  “You don’t have to do anything,” I say, just to be clear. “I can find another more willing volunteer.”

  “No,” She replies, stubborn. “I’ll do it.”

  She looks at me again, and there it is: hostility and anger. What the hell is her deal? Last time I saw her, she was practically stripping naked and throwing herself at my dick. Now, her arms are folded and she’s acting like I’m the devil himself.

  Disobedience will not be tolerated. It’s time to show her who’s boss.

  “Bend over the bench,” I instruct her.

  Any last shred of uncertainty disappears when I see her eyes flare with desire.

  So, she still wants me. She hates me, but she wants me.

  Women.

  “Get on your knees,” I tell her sternly, enjoying this now. It turns out Miss Rebellion has a submissive streak, after all. And I’m nothing if not an expert Dom. I may not practice much anymore, now that the business side of the club takes up most of my time, but I’ve been known to indulge my tastes occasionally.

  It looks like tonight, I’m in for a treat.

  Kate gives me another glare, lust mixed with anger, and then she does as I say: kneeling over the bench so that she’s on her hands and knees with her torso supported by the padded leather plank.

  Her back arches naturally into position, thrusting her peach of an ass high in the air, and letting her breasts swing free, barely caged by their black lacy prison.

  Damn, she looks good down there. Inviting. Ready for my hands to slide between those creamy thighs; spread them wider, and fuck her from behind, yanking a fistful of that wild mane and riding her like the wild animal she really is.

  Later.

  For now, I have a lesson in store. By the time I’m through with her, Kate will know never to sass me like that again.

  Within these walls, I’m king. And my word is law.

  I let my eyes roam over her lush curves, seeing the way she grips the straps for support, how her chest is heaving with anticipation and nerves.

 

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