Exposed Exposed (Dom Nation #1) - E. Davies Page 0,72

Slate.

I chewed the inside of my cheek. I’d been over the words endlessly in my head, and I still couldn’t find quite the right ones.

“There wasn’t much of a description, but it matched him. I can’t reveal the rest without violating others’ privacy,” I said carefully. “But if I told you what I know… Isaac should never darken the door of this place again.”

Though I acted as cool as ever, nervous energy bubbled in my gut. Brighton liked Isaac—as everyone did. Without any evidence, I sounded like I was holding a grudge.

Maybe I was, but it was extremely well-founded.

Brighton couldn’t act on “an unknown man showed up at my workplace, and I think it was Isaac based on a hair color and a jacket,” though.

So, even more cautiously in the stillness of the office, I offered up another crumb. “I have reason to believe he’s played outside the rules—just not within these walls, to avoid being caught. And he might have broken the rules within the club once, too.”

“This isn’t something you’ve witnessed, Master X,” Brighton surmised, his gaze narrowing as he examined me, leaning forward. “But you know someone who has.”

“No, and yes,” I said with a sharp nod. “I’m sorry, but that’s all I can tell you right now.”

“My DMs missed something.” Brighton didn’t sound pleased, and it made me exhale with relief, because he clearly believed me. His eyes flickered to Seb, who shifted uncomfortably. “You don’t know anything?”

“I’m afraid not,” Seb said gravely.

Seb didn’t DM every night—and not on the night in question. I itched to defend him, but I’d start saying too much if I tried. The fact he was accompanying me had to be enough.

All I had to go on was a scrap of an interaction between Isaac and a taxi driver. I’d never even seen anything with my own eyes, and that made me helpless.

There was no worse feeling in the world.

Brighton blew out a quiet sigh and fidgeted with one of his earrings. “Very well. I can’t launch a formal process on a gut feeling. But I’ll pull him in for an interview when he comes in next weekend. If he doesn’t admit that it was him…”

I knew what he was saying. There’s nothing more I can do without evidence. Communities could be destroyed by jealous Doms competing for sex, attention, or—most of all—love.

“Thank you,” I told him and stood up. Seb shadowed me. “That’s all I can ask.”

“I trust you. You’ve never stepped outside the rules—never even tried to skirt them. I’ll take your word, if push comes to shove. Let’s hope it doesn’t.”

I nodded, but I had the feeling it wouldn’t be that easy. Isaac could just deny being the one to show up, and unless I could convince the Three Fucketeers to give me CCTV footage, that was that. Isaac would win, and he’d get to revel smugly in it.

“Thanks, Brighton. See you.”

The place was still quiet at this hour, with just a few guys sitting at the bar and—by the sounds of it—others enjoying the whole playroom to themselves.

Seb pulled me into the dance floor, which was half-lit and empty this early. On a Monday, it would be the quietest spot in the building even later in the night. It looked like a weird corporate event space, except that the tables were bolted down. Even with all the lemon cleaner in the world, there was no shaking that unmistakable tang of sweat and sex.

“Did that go how you imagined it?” Seb asked.

I snorted and shrugged. “What more can I ask from him? He’s right. He can’t just start acting on whispers.”

Seb rested an elbow on the table and inspected me, saying nothing. He had the same air of quiet authority in leather, a suit, or a T-shirt and jeans.

The scrutiny shouldn’t have bothered me. He was the closest thing I had to a mentor, but I didn’t belong to him. I sure as hell didn’t answer to him, nor did I have to explain myself.

But guilt squirmed in my stomach nonetheless, and I didn’t meet his gaze.

Maybe I shouldn’t have come to Brighton. I wasn’t technically breaking Slate’s trust, but…

“So, how about you?” I changed the subject with all the grace of a ballet-dancing buffalo.

“You mean, do I have a hot little thing hanging on my every word?” Seb snorted. “No way.”

I grimaced sympathetically. I’d always assumed I’d be in the same boat for years to come. And then, overnight, everything had changed. “But you’re going on the