With a shrug of his shoulders, his leather vest skimmed his leanly muscled torso. “I enjoy pissing you off.”
He always had. A practical jokester and a big tease, Lance’s laughter was infectious. It would be funny someday that he was poking fun at her. Just not today.
“Gee, thanks. I assume I’m allowed to eat something.”
Lance gestured her toward the door. “Feel free. You know where the kitchen is.”
Callie tugged at the cuffs holding her to the bed frame and sent him an expectant expression.
“Picky, picky. I’ll get the key from Thorpe.” He grinned at her. “Don’t go anywhere.”
“Lance, I swear I’m going to throw something at you.” She heaved a big sigh.
“Try it. Want to guess what will happen?”
Someone would paddle her good, probably Lance himself. Pass . . .
“Hurry. Please. I’m really hungry,” she lied.
He took pity on her and stopped teasing. “Okay. I’ll be right back, little vixen.”
As the door closed behind Lance, she waited impatiently. Thorpe seemed determined to separate her from Sean . . . but she didn’t understand. It wasn’t as if he really wanted her. Why be so hell-bent on keeping her at Dominion if he had no intention of making her his own? Probably because he enjoyed giving her the ultimate mindfuck. All the more reason to leave.
Moments later, Lance appeared with the key and uncuffed her.
“Thorpe says you’re free to roam the premises. No leaving and no socializing. You get something to eat, see if there’s anything pressing that needs your attention, then you come back here. Understood?”
Callie resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “Sure.”
“I’ll be watching you on the floor.”
She didn’t doubt Lance meant that, especially when he wandered out of her room, pointing a pair of fingers to his eyes, then to her own.
“I got it!” She sighed impatiently.
“That’s almost insolent,” he cautioned.
“Sorry.” Long f**king day. “Hunger doesn’t bring out the best in me.”
“I’ll let you slide this time. Don’t do it again . . .”
“Yes, Sir,” she murmured to placate him, throwing in a bat of her lashes. He would probably miss the finer points of that gesture, but just in case.
Lance burst out laughing as he left the room. “Oh, Thorpe has his hands full with you.”
Once she was alone, Callie reached onto the floor, fishing in her purse to find her phone. Then she hesitated. What was she going to do, just call Sean and apologize? Maybe it would be better done face to face. As she was severing their bond? Very classy . . . What if he didn’t want to see her again? Or even talk to her? Soon, it wouldn’t even matter. She’d get another phone in a new town—a different number with a blank slate of contacts. Start over once more in a place where she knew no one. Winter was coming. Phoenix might be good . . .
She was still trying to decide how to proceed when she glanced at the little device. Dead. Crap, she really needed to remember to charge it once in a blue moon.
Depressed as hell, she plugged in her phone, then tossed on her robe and marched down to Thorpe’s office. She tried the handle. Locked. And he didn’t answer a single one of her banging knocks or demands to be let in. True, he might not be inside, but it was also possible Thorpe was completely avoiding her. Callie’s money was on the latter.
She still planned to be gone from Dominion no later than tomorrow, but the bastard had her car keys and suitcases. And a chunk of her heart. She had to retrieve at least the first two and move on.
With an agitated shake of her head, she wandered out to the dungeon floor and cleaned up after a few customers, wiping down after some others. She gathered dirty towels and put them in the laundry room, then distributed fresh bottles of water to the coolers. She stocked bins all around with fresh blankets for Doms to wrap their subs in when it was time for aftercare. A hopping Friday night . . .
Axel had glared at her from across the concrete floor, scowling around what looked like a developing black eye. She didn’t have to ask how he got it. His growl about her “asshole Dom” when he passed by said it all.
Suddenly, Lance strode toward her with a disparaging glance. “Your pizza is here, vixen. Or should I say your highness?”