Page 17

“ B reathe, pet.”

I take a deep breath and fight back the response I want to give him. Like “I fucking am, and it’s obvious since I’m still standing and not lying on the ground dead to the world.”

Despite the fact that I do what he says, he chuckles low in my ear as he grips the back of my neck, bending a bit to kiss my forehead. “Be a good pet.”

The squeeze of my neck is his only warning. He’s told me many times that regardless of the fact that I do as I’m told, he can still see the spark of defiance in my eyes. And if he can see it, so can others if they look closely.

I don’t get why this undercover role is harder than the others. I usually excel at pretending to be something I’m not. Been doing it since I could walk. Pretending I didn’t care that no one wanted me. Or that moving from one place to another didn’t bother me.

You’ve never had to play this far into a role before.

My inner thoughts try to quell the anger simmering below the surface. And it’s that thought that I grasp with two hands and use to relax my body a bit more. While I’ve played the submissive bit before, it was never more than for a few hours of trying it. I’ve never taken orders from anyone well. I played a part, nothing more.

But that isn’t what’s going on here. It’s more than a part. I have to fully embrace the concept. Having eyes on us twenty-four-seven for several days will test me. Test us. We prepped as much as we could in the limited time we had. Now it falls on us trusting each other and going with our gut feelings to get us—and Candy—out of here alive.

And we both agreed that those are the terms. No one goes to the trouble of selling another human being without the willpower to end someone’s life. Those who’ll be part of this auction will not be afraid to use force, and neither will we. Not everyone here will be a threat, but we both agreed that most will have more than one agenda.

“Well, if it isn’t our friendly ghost and his friend.” Helper grins wide, and I note that she called me a friend. Not his submissive, or even Wendi, like we told her before.

The tight smile Casper gives her has hers dropping, and I don’t even hide my own smile of triumph at that. He’s showing that he’s forcing himself to be polite but is barelyholding it in. I don’t care if it’s all part of his act or not. That inner little girl who’s screaming for someone to pick me is jumping up and down with glee.

“Wendi. Her name is Wendi. And I prefer to be called just Ghost or Sir from the help.”

Oooo, that dig just about makes my heart flutter. He didn’t even take the time to remember her name, or at least that’s what he’s showing. But I know he didn’t forget. The guy has a scary good memory. No doubt years of training to learn everything he can about a target in a limited amount of time helped teach his brain to retain information quickly.

She coughs and averts her eyes. “Sorry, Sir, I apologize. We have your room ready. You’re in room thirty-two. It’s on the third level. We’ll have your bags delivered to your room while you attend dinner. You can access the room by the stairs or the elevator that’s just past the main stairs. We’ll also leave your itinerary in your room, which includes a list of tomorrow’s activities. Each evening around dinner, you’ll receive a new one, delivered to your room, for the next day, along with a list of events that are canceled if that should occur.”

“Sir.” Bane passes the key card to Casper, who puts it in his back pocket. Bane already told us he was on welcoming duty and said he would secure us a master key we could use throughout the place. He even confirmed that he had it adjusted to show it was a cleaning pass, so no one should suspect us accessing certain places or rooms if they look at room card access.

With a nod, we move out of line and head into the grand room we’d entered last time. But unlike when we were here before, the room is now bright and light. Most of the low chairs and couches are gone, replaced by high-top tables. A long buffet table is against one wall and serviced by a few people. It’s all finger food, and I’m glad we stopped for burgers before we came. Bane explained that tonight’s meal wasn’t meant to be a full course. It’s just a sample, just like the show we’ll see. Something to whet the appetite. Tomorrow, they’ll open the dining room for everyone, and I was promised full course meals. Which is good because I’m not one of those girls who can live off a single piece of fruit for a few hours.

“Come along, pet.”

We walk the perimeter of the room before grabbing a plate. Casper puts a few things on it, then grabs us two bottles of water. The bar is open, but now isn’t the time to divulge in alcohol. We need a clear head till we know how this will all play out.

The table we choose to stand by is close enough for us to hear conversations but still allows us to not have our backs unprotected. From our vantage point, we have four exits: the one we entered, a door by the buffet table that leads outside, an access door for those working here, and a stage to our left. Bane said they always construct one each weekend, over the platform we sat at before, to allow everyone to see what will be on display.

“Eat.” Casper holds up a strawberry, and I take a bite without even thinking of grabbing it for my own. “Good girl.” The soft praise makes me realize how I just accepted it without a fuss. Maybe he really is training me to be the perfect sub.

Or maybe you’re just learning to trust someone.

Maybe it’s my past. Or that fact that I live in a world of lies that I create. But trusting isn’t easy for me. I could count on one hand the number of people I truly trust, and I’d still have fingers left over.

The lights dim till a single spotlight is on the stage. The room quiets down, and I chance a glance at Casper. His profile is a thing of art, but seeing him so mission focused is panty-melting material for sure.

A guy in a suit walks out, and I join in with everyone else as they clap for him. I take a subtle scan of the room and notice nothing suspicious other than half the crowd are wearing very little. At least I know I blend in with some of them.

While we didn’t go the full route my company chose on clothing, Casper at least relented to showing a bit more skin than what a T-shirt would cover. Just remembering arguing over how much I was going to show off makes me break out into a sweat. The way he acted, ripping my C8 outfit choice in half to prove I wasn’t wearing that, set off so many bells in my system. Most of them below my belt and forcing me to take a few steps away so I wouldn’t jump on him and tell him to take me here and now. It was beyond the hottest thing I’ve ever experienced. And that includes what we did in the chair—which, for those curious, had me coming harder than I ever had before, and there wasn’t even penetration or touching on his part at all.

Thankfully, he knew a place to get something new sent overnight. Otherwise, I’d likely be stuck in one of his shirts again. Not that I hated it.

Side note: I haven’t given him back the one he put on me yet. He hasn’t asked for it, and I… forgot? Not sure that’s the right word, as I’ve used it as a sleep shirt.

A Little Spice, an online lingerie store run by one of the club’s old ladies, had a ton of variety, and because of the biker friends and family discount, I somehow ended up with store credit to use at a later date. Which I will, because the place had some amazing things. Including the red vixen teddy I have on now. It’s a halter top that pushes out my boobs a bit more and then curves down before flaring out into a full skirt. It covers a lot, plays peekaboo with the fishnet design at the stomach, and is still risqué enough for a place like this, as it barely covers my ass. Instead of the thong it came with, Casper preferred boy shorts. He claimed it matched the outfit he was aiming for, but I kind of enjoy thinking that he likes all my parts covered. I know it’s not because he doesn’t like how I look. The guy has a boner he never hides when I walk around. In his words, he doesn’t share, nor does he like others seeing what’s his.

His. Just the word sends shivers racing down my spine. Things are getting crossed here, I know. I shouldn’t like that thought. I shouldn’t want it. And I definitely shouldn’t hope for it. This is a job, and only that. Some jobs have perks, and being involved sexually with him is just that, and that alone. It shouldn’t be anything more. And definitely nothing that involves feelings or my heart.

Too late.

I glare at my thoughts till Casper bumps me; then my face goes neutral, and I focus on what the man in the suit has to say.

“Welcome, my friends, both old and new. I’m your host, Master Author.”

I force myself to not roll my eyes at that. Of course he would consider himself a Master and give the title to himself with no one asking for it. I might not be fully in the circle with this lifestyle, but Casper has taught me a bit over the last few days. One being that most don’t call themselves by their titles, just their name or the name they take on if they need to keep their identity a secret.

“It’s great to have so many come this weekend. As many of you know, our club has expanded to allow new memberships, and this is the first of many weekends I hope to host that will bring in a new crop each month.”

The group below him cheers in celebration while I try to swallow the bile that’s in my throat.

His word choice has me tilting my head and looking at Casper to make sure he caught it too. It’s subtle, but he dips his head once for me to know he did.

I take in our host once more. He’s average in every way. His build is okay, pudgy around the middle. Mild complexion, a face that can get lost in the crowd. Even his hair is a bland brown. Nothing makes me think host, or Master for that matter, other than him telling me so. I don’t see him as a criminal mastermind, but neither were half the serial killers of the world till they were caught.

“In addition, today, October 7, marks this club’s ten-year anniversary. Even though we haven’t owned it long, we wanted to recognize this amazing accomplishment.”

I freeze at his words. The world tilts on its access, and I teeter on my heels.

Casper reaches out at the last second to steady me before I face-plant. “You okay, pet?”

I shake my head, everything dimming around the edges as I turn back to the stage in time to see a row of women and men come on. Most look happy. A few seem lost in thought, like me. And the redhead in the back seems more lost than the rest.

“We’ll be holding an auction for these beauties. You can bid an hour, a day, or hell, even collar one. We won’t judge.”

The crowd laughs and applauds the man, but I feel as if I’ll never laugh again.

Casper closes in on me, wrapping me in his arms as he leans down to whisper in my ear so it looks like an intimate moment to others who can see us. “That her? Is that Candy?”

I nod, and I feel him stiffen against me. The man on stage is still speaking, but I can’t hear him. I can’t even feel if Casper is holding me anymore. I can hardly breathe.

“I can’t breathe. I….” I push away from whatever is touching me and turn in several circles, seeing colors but nothing more.

A face appears in front of me, a soft hand on my cheek. “You good?”

Casper. It’s Casper.

I shake my head, then breathe, trying to remember what and why I’m here. Trying to push the panic back. But it’s not helping even as I nod this time, forcing my body to control things while my mind freaks out.

“Do you need a moment to lie down?” Bane, a person Casper trusts—and I should too—steps close, blocking out the others. “I can take her to her room so you can do a bit more mingling if you would like. I remember you said she was tired before she came here. Maybe just a little while to close her eyes would be good for her.”

My mind is clear enough to understand that he’s giving us an out. I fucked up the plan, and I’m continuing to fuck it up the more I gain eyes on me. Which I’m sure they are. We might be far away from the others, and I might have whispered my panic, but no doubt everyone can tell.

Casper’s eyes roam over my face, taking in everything. Even wiping away the tear that I didn’t know was teetering to be let loose. “Yes, I think a nap would be good. The events of tonight might just be a bit much for her right now. I’ll stay down here long enough to thank our host for allowing us to come this weekend, and then I’ll be up.”

I nod once and make a beeline for the exit. I’m making a fool of myself, I know. My actions could jeopardize the entire mission, but I don’t seem to care enough to stop and make changes.

Bane catches up to me, grabbing my elbow to steady me as I wobble on shoes I insisted on wearing. Should have gone barefoot. Anything is better than what I have on at the moment. But the more I focus on putting one foot in front of the other, the more I realize it’s my entire body that’s shaking. Shoes or no shoes, I need help.

“You okay, darling?”

I nod at Bane’s soft words to me but say nothing else. My throat has closed up, and I can’t speak. I want to run for the exit, but that won’t help. The safety of my room is all I can ask for. Bane promised there are no cameras in any of the rooms. He even said he would do another sweep of ours before coming to the party after he was done with the welcoming group.

When we get to my room, he uses his key card to let me in and then sets it on the table by the gift basket. “I’m leaving you an extra key, should you need it. Why don’t you take a shower and then a nap? Might help you calm your nerves.”

Nerves. Right. He thinks I was freaking out because of seeing Candy. We told him what she looks like, just to get more eyes out there, but not much more than us wanting to find her. If only that was it. I could deal with that. I can’t deal with this. I never could.

I nod along and wait till he leaves before I tear my shoes off, almost falling. I look at the gift basket and grab the bottle of scotch that’s meant for Casper, assuming the pink bubbly is for me. Twisting off the top, I stroll into the bathroom and start the shower. I can’t stop shaking as I turn it as hot as it’ll go.

My reflection in the mirror has me looking deeper in on myself. Seeing the flaws. The bad decisions I’ve made. Everything I try to avoid seeing daily.

“You’re a failure,” I whisper to myself as the first tear slips free. Sweeping it away angrily, I take a healthy drink. I don’t feel the heat at the back of my throat from the scotch. “You’re nothing but a disappointment. You let everyone down. You let him down.”

I turn from the mirror and walk into the shower, barely feeling the water as I get under the spray in my clothes. I feel nothing but pain and sorrow. Loss.

I slide down the wall and let the anger take over as I wail into the scotch that I continue to chug down, hoping I either pass out or it takes away the pain. Anything is better than this.

Even death.