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“And I don’t want to be a burden. It’s your New Year’s too. Besides—” I laughed nervously “—it’s not like anyone will bite me, right?”

Shawn grinned. “Not unless you beg nicely.”

“Lovely, thanks for that.”

He shrugged unashamedly and wrapped his arm around Miranda. He was always touching her. Light touches that showed not only his love for her but his desire. I wanted that. Someone who looked at me the way he was always so focused on his wife. Just you know, without the chains and floggings.

I gulped down the rest of my water and stepped away from them. “It’s fine, trust me. I’m going to go see what all the fuss is about at the front.”

“I have my phone. I’ll keep it with me at all times,” Shawn reminded me.

“And I won’t text you while you’re seducing your wife.”

“Anytime, Rebecca. Remember what I said, it’s my job to keep you safe tonight and that means from anything that makes you uncomfortable. A touch, a look, someone says something that makes you cringe. Call me immediately.”

This guy. He was one of a kind.

“And I love you for it.” I pressed a kiss to his cheek and hugged Miranda. “Go have fun, and don’t worry about me. I came with you so I wasn’t alone tonight, not so I could be your third wheel.”

“If you’re sure.” Miranda nibbled her bottom lip, still looking uncertain. I might have had crappy parents, but I’d chosen good friends.

“I’m sure.” I flicked my hand. “Go. I’ll walk around and I have my phone. I promise to use it if I need to.”

I stepped away and into the crowd before they could talk me out of it. Wouldn’t take much. I took five steps from the bar, swallowed by more groups of people hanging out and laughing, and I instantly wanted to slink back to the bar and hide.

Power radiated off both men and women as I maneuvered through small clusters of people. It was an almost physical presence, and more than once when I glanced at someone’s wrist, I was only confirming what I’d already suspected, whether they were Dom or sub. The rules might have been relaxed but people and their instincts didn’t change. More than one woman I walked past had their hands clasped together, head bowed toward the floor while the man next to them spoke. Subs were far more easily noticeable simply by the way they stood in correlation to the person next to them.

And yet, not a single person pulsed with fear or nerves. Not a single one flinched when they were touched by another hand at their back or shoulder. Instead, they swayed into it, as if the gentle touch from someone who dominated them soothed them.

Strange, that.

Before I realized I’d walked so far, I pulled to a quick stop at a scarlet red rope draped in front of me.

Oh, shit. I’d found the demonstrations and now that I was there, I looked back to the bar.

I could go back. I could hide by the bar and drink my water and spend New Year’s alone.

Or, I could move forward. New year, new life, new rules, new goals. Break free from the past. Push past judgments. Learn before assuming.

And in that case, watch before declaring it evil.

I dragged my eyes off the rope and lifted them to the couple on stage, and everything inside of me iced over.

Because my boss, Bennett Asshole Ashby, was standing on the stage. In front of him was a woman in a black silk thong and bra, strapped to an exact replica of the X-shaped cross Miranda had in her house.

His back was to me but that didn’t matter, I’d spent hours watching the muscles on his back flex beneath his white dress shirt as he stalked away from me in the office. And tonight, he had more on display. Sleeves rolled up past his elbows, veins popping on his arms, and in his hand, something that resembled a riding crop people used on horses.

It took several moments for all the pieces to click together.

My boss. BDSM club. He was whipping a woman in public. Dominant. Because he enjoyed it?

The echoing of voices dulled to a humming vibration and went mute.

Holy crap! My boss was wielding a crop on a woman. He pulled back and let it fly. The resulting smack of the crop on the fleshiest parts of her ass jolted her forward.

Her face was flushed, her lips parted. Her eyes were droopy like she’d been drugged. None of it made sense.

I wanted to turn and run, to scream and shout. I wanted to rip the crop out of Bennett’s hand, but I couldn’t move.