this, me boyo. We’re all in favor.”
Ghost swept his gaze around the table. Aside from Olivia, each person wore a shit-eating grin. “You bastards. You started the meeting before I got here. This is a set-up.”
Raoul swore, dug out his wallet, and handed Marcus a five-dollar bill.
The attorney smirked. “He’s as smart as a fox. I knew he’d figure it out.”
Z cleared his throat. “Finlay, I know you’re a professor at the university. Still, I think you could handle the added commitment.”
Ghost eyed him. “Because you managed to balance the club and your job for years.”
“Balancing wasn’t difficult until we had children.” Z rubbed his face. “Part of being a parent is simply being present. During my first marriage, I was in the military, then college, and my boys grew up mostly without me. I want to do better this time around.”
Easy to understand—and appreciate.
Kelly couldn’t have children, but… “My tours of duty were why my wife and I decided against adopting. Her health was poor enough she wouldn’t have been able to handle parenthood with me deployed so often.” There were times he regretted their decision.
In the military, he’d enjoyed working with young soldiers. Now, teaching helped fill the need.
As if Z had heard his thoughts, he said, “We all want to help the next generation along. The university is one way.” Z paused. “So is mentoring new Doms.”
Ghost sipped his Coke as he thought.
He didn’t need the money. The question was: Could he do the job and do it well?
Probably.
Did he want the job?
Hmm.
Z held up a hand. “I do have a condition: the manager must live on the premises. Upstairs. Rent-free, of course.”
“Is there a reason?” Ghost asked.
“Indeed. There has been vandalism in the Capture Gardens and in the private gardens.”
“Isn’t there a security system?” Holt asked.
“There is, and the alarms were set off. Unfortunately, the property is quite distant from the nearest police station. Having someone living here again might eliminate the problem.”
“That’s logical.” However, the main reason for being the manager was the club, and it wasn’t a job he could do alone.
As attention shifted back to Ghost, he considered them all. “I would have conditions.” He spoke to the Masters and Mistresses, not Z. “The hired dungeon monitors weren’t invested in the club and did the minimum necessary.”
“We sure saw their lack of involvement last night,” Nolan grumbled.
“More than that, our members should learn there’s a give-and-take in belonging to this club. The Shadowlands isn’t a nightclub, it’s a community.”
Nods showed him they were following.
“But people need examples of how to give back. I’d like you all to take dungeon monitor shifts again. I’ll hold DM classes to grow a volunteer pool. You’ll get apprentices for hands-on training. Eventually, the time I need you to put in will decrease.”
“Fair enough,” Marcus said. “I’m in.”
The rest agreed.
One down. “The second condition is much the same. I want you each to teach a class every other month and to mentor less experienced Doms when you’re here. Our newer Doms need role models—which means all of us need to show up more often.”
Galen nodded. “He’s right. It’s what we owe to the club.”
After glancing around the table, Cullen said, “We’re in for your second condition, as well. Z?”
“I approve.” Z smiled. “We have a consensus and a good start. Thank you, Ghost.”
Ghost eyed him. “You’re not off the hook, Master Z. You don’t have to be a dungeon monitor, but you’ll make up for it by giving extra demonstrations. Jessica will enjoy some time in the dungeon, I’m sure.”
The room burst into laughter because Z’s adorable submissive hated being put on display.
Ghost rubbed his lips and wondered how Valerie would feel about it.
He’d undoubtedly see her on campus, and then the ball would be in her court.
Unless—and until—she handed it to him.
Chapter Eight
Monday afternoon, Valerie spotted Ghost walking across the campus.
The entire world seemed to get brighter, and wasn’t that crazy? She wasn’t some naive sixteen-year-old with a crush.
Honestly, her heart really was beating faster. Holding her breath, she waited for him to notice her.
The sun glinted on his gunmetal gray hair. Her fingers remembered how the short curls were smooth and slightly springy.
Resilient, much like his personality. Whatever disaster overtook him, he’d bounce back.
He already had. Now she knew what to look for, she could see his left leg wasn’t as flexible as the right. Yet, his stride was balanced and powerful.
Her hands clenched with the desire to touch him.
Noticing her, he paused.
When she lifted her