Temptation - Leigh Lennon Page 0,3
he pushes the button for the penthouse, but I must have misread because this can’t be possible.
Chapter Two
Chadwick
This club has a different footprint from the first ones I opened in New York and Los Angeles. Though I’ve been specific about my clubs having a dungeon, the main playground as I call it, the private rooms are two levels above in this new club. With a restaurant on the first floor, the members’ rooms can only be accessed by the stairwell leading from the basement unless you’re me. I have my run of the whole fucking place. It’s what I like, and I always get what I want.
As I search through the applications of the new hires, something catches my eyes. I never hire a person who’s not in the BDSM lifestyle. I require two things. They understand and practice BDSM, and they sure as fuck better have a glowing recommendation from a club member. So I’m bewildered when I see one that’s blank under the comments where all recommendations are made.
It’s a mistake. Jared, one of my closest friends and the man who has seen my dreams come to life in four other clubs in various cities, knows me well enough never to challenge me on this. Hand selecting him for my new club in Chicago is a no-brainer because his cutthroat business practices are almost as vicious as my own. Plus, he’s my best friend, growing up with one another.
Picking up my phone from my second-floor office at the club, far from the private rooms of our members, I almost yell through the line to my new receptionist I’m not too impressed with. “Nina, find me Jared and make it fucking now.”
“Yes, Sir.” It’s the only reply I’ll ever tolerate from my employees, especially my receptionist. Jared hired her on the spot. She’s a loyal submissive to one of our new members and has years of experience as a personal assistant. Even with all the glowing reviews, this lady can’t even make a fucking pot of decent coffee if her life depends on it. I’m not even sure her name is Nina, but it’s what I go with, and she answers to it. This shows me she’s a decent submissive even though I’m more of a straight-up asshole than a Dom.
I start the stopwatch on my phone, and when it hits two minutes, my hand is on the intercom again. “Fuck, Nina, what’s taking him so fucking long?”
“Sir, he’s in the kitchen. Some sort of issue with the fire marshal. He says, um…” She swallows hard, and I know I won’t like what he’s passed on to tell me. “He’ll get to you when he’s good and ready.” With a pause, I wait for her to finish. “Sir, I’m sorry, I’m only the messenger.”
Okay, so she’s not as shitty as I first thought. I’ve been a Dom long enough to know when I’ve gone over the edge. And have I mentioned, I’m a selfish and conceited prick, too? But in the end, Nina doesn’t deserve my wrath. Disconnecting the call, I walk out to her desk on the other side of my office.
She stands immediately. “Sir?” She averts her eyes from mine. I notice this submissive nature in her beauty. She’s stunning with raven black hair, eyes darker than licorice, and a petite body. With her four-inch heels on—one of my uniform requirements for all my lady employees—she’s still a good foot shorter than I am.
Patting her seat and moving it toward her, I begin. “Have a seat, Nina.” She flinches, and I stifle a laugh, knowing I have changed her name. “I’m an asshole.” She’s still looking down but now at her desk. “You can look at me.” She does as she’s told. “You’ve been trained well. I owe a thank you to your Dom.” A little smile pulls at her face. “Thank you for tracking down Jared so fast. I’m sorry for my crassness. There will be more, do you understand?” Basically, I am asking her to acknowledge that I’ll be more of a dick.
“Yes, Sir.”
“But I do reward my employees, too.” I don’t mean this in a physical way. She’s collared, and whether she’s working or is at play, all collared subs are off-limits.
During business hours, most have a necklace choker they wear at the discretion of their Dom. And the delicate sterling silver choker makes her neck look so edible. But this is a line I’ll never cross—not with someone already owning her.
“Thank you, Sir,