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Do you think you’re special? You’re just another one of his whores, bought and paid for. I know the things he does to you. Do they turn you on? Do you like it when he spanks you? When he fucks your ass? I’ll bet you get wet just thinking about him. He’s creative and good at what he does, but he gets bored easily. If he isn’t already. He’ll pass you around, get off on degrading you, humiliating you. And then he’ll get rid of you. Just like the rest of them. And you’ll be one more ruined cunt.
I could barely breathe as I folded the paper and set it on the end table. I couldn’t let Ashlee see how shaken I was. Being disturbed by the words I’d read was one thing. The fact that I wanted to throw up was something else. If it’d just been the content of the letter, I would’ve been furious, already on the phone to the police, but it was more than that.
I recognized the handwriting.
Isti Mollen.
She’d written all of that bile and had someone slip it under Ashlee’s door, all because she knew that Ashlee and I were together. She’d tried similar shit over the past few years, but it’d been sent to me, never to the women. All of those women had been well-known, though, and a letter like this would’ve gone straight to the cops. As far as I knew, she’d only harassed me. Shit. I hoped that was the case.
“I want you to stay here until things quiet down,” I said. “I’m going to have my people look into that. They’ll take care of it.”
I didn’t tell her that they’d find whoever sent it because that might lead her to eventually ask who it was, and I didn’t want to lie to her. Omission wasn’t exactly the same, especially since telling her the whole truth would only make this entire thing worse.
“Now, how about you and I get an early dinner. I had one of my favorite restaurants bring us their signature dish, and I think you’ll love it. After dessert, I have an idea to keep your mind off this whole business.” I took her hand and kissed her knuckles.
She smiled. “You always think sex is the best distraction.”
I chuckled. “That’s true, but I have something a little different in mind. But first, food.”
Twenty-Two
Ashlee
This was definitelynotwhat I’d imagined when Nate had said he knew of a way to get our minds off of what was happening, but it was definitely working. I really couldn’t think about anything else but what I was seeing.
A short, stocky man in an insanely expensive three-piece suit walked past, arm-in-arm with a tall, lean man wearing tight leather pants and a sheer shirt that showed off a silver hoop through each nipple.
Another couple leaned against the bar. The woman was young, probably in her early to mid-twenties, though her diminutive height made her look younger. Bronze curls spilled over her shoulders as she peered up at a tattooed, dark-haired man who looked at her the way I thought Nate sometimes looked at me. Their clothes were more casual, but still nice.
My mind moved away from trying to process the whole picture and began registering individual images as snapshots in my brain.
A brunette in a red latex bodysuit on her hands and knees, a leash attached to what looked like a cat collar, led by a tall redhead in an elegant, sleeveless black dress.
A bald, burly man in dark slacks and a short-sleeved dress shirt walked hand-in-hand with a petite bald woman in a white halter top and skirt, matching tattoos covering both sets of arms.
“Le soleil?” Nate’s voice was low and warm in my ear. “We can go if you want. If it’s too much…”
I shook my head, and the movement snapped me back to reality. A strange reality like nothing I’d experienced before, but reality, nonetheless.
“You said Club Privé.” I snapped my eyes away from the scantily dressed woman on a leash. “I assumed we were going to get something to drink, maybe dance. This wasn’t what I was expecting.”
Nate rested his hand on the small of my back and guided me to a dark corner where an empty loveseat sat against the wall. With everything that had been happening, I was surprised when he suggested we go out at all. But his driver had made certain we weren’t being tailed, then had taken us into a private garage and we’d used a private entrance.
“Good to know people,” Nate had said with a wink.
Although I was still mildly terrified that some reporter would jump from the shadows, camera in tow, I forced myself to relax, knowing that Nate wouldn’t have brought me here if he was worried about any exposure.
Similar seats were scattered throughout the rest of the club, some occupied, some not. Being a weekday night, the place wasn’t full, but enough people were here that I could only imagine how packed it would be on a weekend. The VIP area where we were was practically empty, easing my mind even more.
The hand on my back slid up to my neck, strong fingers massaging the tight muscles there. Nate didn’t ask again if I wanted to leave, but I could feel new tension in him and knew it was my fault. Well, not myfaultexactly, but it was a response to my reaction. And I didn’t know how to fix it.
I didn’t know how to explain what I was thinking and feeling because I didn’t know myself. That not knowing was familiar, in a way. It reminded me of the odd and conflicting feelings I’d had when he’d spanked me.
“You’re thinking too much,” he said, his breath hot against my cheek, lips brushing my ear. “Do you want me to take over? To clear that busy little head of yours?”
I nodded, relief flooding me. I wanted to be my own person, but I couldn’t deny how nice it was to sometimes not have to be the one in charge, to let someone else take care of me.
“Let’s get you more comfortable then, before the show begins.” He pulled me onto his lap, wrapping one arm around my shoulders and the other across my thighs, one large hand resting on my hip.