losing that, too, if the open-ended note Lucius left behind means what I think it does.
“The interior decorator is here, Theo,” Maximus says into the earpiece I wear like an extension of my body. “You want me to handle it?”
Alex lifts his head, his eyes glassy.
I key the mic. “No, I’ll be down in just a moment.” I adjust myself, my erection thankfully deflated by the interruption. “If you want to help me, stay with Karina,” I tell Alex. “I want to make sure she’s okay.”
“Of course.” He stands and finishes righting his clothes before I hand him the key to her room.
We exit the office, and I tell Armando to give Alex access to the dungeon. But I avoid meeting his gaze, too raw emotionally to face him. Instead, I turn my attention to the distraction I’ve used for the last several decades—everyone else’s problems.
And what have you learned about Club Toxic today, mon chaton?
I groan. Damn. I was hoping I wouldn’t hear from Marcel until Monday. Ever since Theo and I became involved, this little infiltration to the club has become a lot more personal.
Marcel owns the Crimson Dungeon in New Orleans. He was the dom who introduced me to the pleasures of BDSM. I hadn’t realized how much I enjoyed spanking and being dominated until I met him. And then he became an addiction.
No new information today. Perhaps I can put him off. I got mugged on the way home from work.
I sit cross-legged in bed, the covers around my waist, and my thighs bounce impatiently as I watch the tiny dot animation while Marcel responds.
Are you all right? Did you go to the hospital?
No. A friend of a friend is a doctor. He patched me up. I’m not that bad.
Where are you right now?
I sigh. Club Toxic.
Do they know what happened?
Yes, and I can stay here the night, but I can’t impose on them for too long and I can’t go home. Phil found Zoe again.
There is a long pause before the dot animation cycles. You should have let me take care of that fils de pute!
I can’t help smirking at his French expletives.
Zoe and I may have to leave the state.
The dot animation cycles again. Stay there as long as you can manage, and you can feed me more details about the club. I will pay you. Then you and Zoe can come back to New Orleans. If he follows you again, I will deal with him once and for all.
The problem is, I don’t want to leave Tucson, and I don’t want to keep spying for Marcel. This friendly competition, as he calls it, just feels wrong.
After two short raps, the door to my room opens and I frantically close my messenger app and switch to my eReader app. My face is hot and I smile at Alexander, who is closing the door behind him.
“Hi!”
Alex chuckles. “Well, hello, cupcake.” God, that British accent is almost enough to dumbfound me and make me forget my troubles…almost. He saunters to the wooden chair still at my bedside and sits. “What has your cheeks flushing so deliciously?”
I giggle nervously and fumble with pulling the sheets to my neck. “Oh, just reading a book. It’s at an exciting part of the story.” I lock the screen and drop the phone on the side of me farthest from Alex, as if that will distance him from my secrets.
“What kind of book?” He stretches his long legs out in front of him and crosses them at the ankles. “I’m a rather avid reader myself.”
I warm up to the subject, happy to take my mind off my problems and hopefully disperse my guilty thoughts. “Crime novels. I love the whole process of police procedurals and crime scene investigations.” The words spill out of my mouth and, because I’ve discussed this topic so often, it almost seems rehearsed. Although true, the words dry up on my tongue and I’m thrust right back into my current predicament. Last month, a conversation like this would have been a breeze. Now, I’m the one who’s the victim of a crime, and caught in the middle of my own drama.
He must sense my change of mood because he frowns sympathetically. “I can see why your emotions would be wrapped up in such a book. You probably have a lot to relate to, considering your circumstances.”
“I feel really bad that I’m imposing on you and Theo.”
“Nonsense.” He winks.
Holy bejeezus, he’s so frickin’ charming! Surely, this drop-dead gorgeous