Page 17

The day after

Penelope Darling

W here was this pompous bastard? He thought the world revolved around him, didn’t he?

I folded my arms over my chest and peered out the window. Holiday shoppers were going to take over the streets soon. The weather was already crap. And this fucking guy didn’t know how to use a watch.

What the hell was it with Lucian Leroux?

When we saw each other at kink parties, it was so damn easy to talk to him.

Not because he was remotely funny, but because we had so much in common.

The same kinks, similar traits we were drawn to; only, him with men and me with women.

We liked to participate in event planning and demos.

We were natural leaders. But the instant the proverbial lights came back on, the party was over, and it was time to part ways, something about him just screamed superiority and arrogance.

If he didn’t get here in the next five minutes, I was gonna?—

Goddammit. I saw him walking in. He spoke briefly with the hostess before he spotted me.

He’d spent more than a few minutes in the rain.

I almost smiled, because it was so unlike him.

I’d never seen him out of sorts. He never spoke out of turn, he never laughed too loud, he never said anything inappropriate, I wasn’t sure he even had a sense of humor, and he was just so…

so…so stiff . Except for right now, when he looked like he was coming out of a car wash without the car.

First and last time I let him pick the restaurant too. It was so sterile and bright and lifeless in here.

“I apologize, Penelope,” he said, pulling out his chair. “My car didn’t start, and it took forever to get a cab in this weather.”

“No problem, Lucian.” I smiled politely.

He exhaled and loosened his tie, then picked up his menu. “Does anything look good? I’ve never been here before, but I’ve had several clients raving about the place.”

I cleared my throat and opened my menu too. “Well, there’s the $30 tuna salad that’s served inside a lemon. Or maybe you’d be more interested in the $45 chestnut ravioli with walnuts and honey?”

“Chestnut rav…” He trailed off and made a face as he scanned the menu. “What on earth is all this?”

I’d rather ask who his clients were. Snobs like him, I bet. He worked in finance, if I remembered correctly. Frankly, we never talked about vanilla life.

Lucian looked and looked, as if more items would magically appear on the two pages, but after a moment, I wasn’t sure he was actually paying attention.

If anything, he was miles away in his head—though, he recovered eventually.

He glanced out the window instead. His jaw ticked.

He released a breath, and I could practically feel the tension rolling off him.

He wasn’t comfortable. He wanted to be anywhere but here.

This was the opposite of the man I’d call a dear kink friend. And how crazy was it that I could genuinely look forward to seeing him at events and then my skin would almost crawl at the thought of meeting up for lunch?

“I’ll have to apologize again,” he said, clearing his throat. “I got three hours of sleep last night, I have no idea what’s wrong with my car, I’m tired as fuck, I’m hungover, and all I want right now is to put on sweatpants and order the greasiest pizza I can find.”

I blinked.

He wanted what?

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “A burger would work too.”

Right.

What?

“Do you…want to reschedule?” I was so busy processing his uncomposed outburst that it made me a little slow on the uptake. But fuck it, I was impressed. There was something real underneath the suit, wasn’t there?

“Oh, I—I suppose that was unclear,” he said, frowning. “And it just occurred to me that you might not be comfortable moving this meeting to my place. We can reschedule. I’d just need an hour or so to go back home and change, and then?—”

“We can go to your place,” I said. Just because I wasn’t a big fan of arrogant men didn’t mean I felt unsafe with him.

On the contrary, I’d always felt relaxed in his presence.

Well, in a kink setting. To be honest, I didn’t know what the fuck to think about the vanilla version of him anymore.

“But you gotta promise me you’ll wear sweats. And pizza’s on you.”

The relief was instant in Lucian’s eyes. “I’ll pay for the cab so you can get home later too. Thank you, Pen?—”

“I have my truck,” I chuckled. “Let’s go, pussycat. You need to get dry.”

I was more than happy to get out of this pretentious place, without having anything to pay for.

“Are we sure about that nickname?” he asked.

I looked back at him and smiled. “It suits you.”

“Wonderful.”

Oh, lighten up, suit.

* * *

“Did your truck’s shock absorbers fall off at some point?”

Pompous.

“Don’t shit-talk Nelson,” I said, making a turn. “He’s been around longer than you have.”

“I believe you.” He literally clutched the seat when I drove over another speed bump.

“Sooo, how’s life?” I actually didn’t wanna know, but I had to save my old truck from being bullied.

“Good.”

Awesome.

“Yours?” he asked.

“Great.”

This was why we were better off as kink friends. I could probably list all his partners and the kinks he’d explored with each one, but don’t ask me what his middle name was or if he owned a pet.

I guessed I’d find out the latter in a moment.

“Do you own a white cat?” I wondered.

He looked at me, so I made sure to keep my eyes on the road.

That was important.

“That’s a villain’s pet,” he said.

“Oh, is it?” Yikes. He was onto me.

He huffed and glanced out the window instead. “Yesterday, I was accused of being a vampire. Today, I’m a Bond villain.” He turned my way again. “Is there something about me?”

Hold on, who’d accused him of being a vampire, and why was that so funny?

“You know what? Never mind. It’s been pointed out before that I’m rigid and boring.”

Aw. Well, now I felt bad. I was just teasing him—mostly. “Who told you that?”

“My best friend,” he grumbled. “Pardon me for not wanting to go bungee jumping and swimming with sharks.”

Oof. A lot to unpack there. I cleared my throat and tapped my fingernails along the wheel. Traffic up ahead—this might take a moment. Was everyone out today? In this weather?

“I’m sorry about the cat comment, Lucian.”

He shook his head. “It’s fine. I know I…I don’t reveal much about myself, so people see the suit—and suits are dreadfully boring and/or pricks.”

Ten points for self-awareness?

I still felt bad, though. And I hadn’t been entirely fair.

“It’s true in a way,” I replied carefully. “I don’t know you well enough to form a real opinion—outside kink events anyway. So yeah, I see the finance guy who becomes a bit stiff when the party’s over.”

He sighed. “Because I never know what to say. That time I asked you out for coffee, it didn’t go very well.”

I winced. He was right, but that wasn’t all on him. I’d been so awkward. In the light of day, I’d hesitated, and I hadn’t believed we’d have much in common outside the communities we sometimes stumbled upon each other in.

“I felt super weird that day,” I admitted. “Maybe a little hungover too. Like you are today, maybe?”

He snorted softly. “Today was supposed to be great—because last night was…something else.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” he sighed. “And one of the guys I met—I’m fairly sure he no longer believes I’m a vampire.”

I chuckled and checked the rearview. “ One of the guys? Sounds like there was a line.”

“Oh, not like that. Except…” He shifted in his seat, causing the leather to squeak. “Well, kind of like that.”

What the hell? He’d clearly had fun and he’d brought it up, so it was a bad time to go all vague on me.

“Did you go to a kink party?” I guessed. “Took part in a group-play scene?”

“It wasn’t a party. A new friend was introducing me to even newer friends, and then we went back to my place and…yeah.”

I grinned. Maybe he wasn’t so uptight after all. “Whatever this is, I like it,” I said, gesturing to him. “You’re fumbling.”

In my periphery, I saw how he narrowed his eyes at me. “You like it when I fumble ?”

“Sort of!” I had to be honest. “You always come off as so polished, Lucian. Like every word is rehearsed—and within kink, maybe that’s because you know what you’re talking about.

You’re not reckless, and you do your homework, which is great.

But this right here—” I pointed between us and stepped on the gas.

“This feels more real than any conversation we’ve had at the end of an event when it’s time to go home and you don’t know how to wrap things up. ”

I paused to let things settle—and to get past a poor group of road workers who’d been called in on a Saturday. I hated this intersection.

“I’m just saying,” I went on. “I wanna get to know the hungover guy who’s craving sweats and pizza and, by the sound of things, got himself lost in an orgy last night.

He sounds way more interesting than the closed-off suit who takes me to a restaurant recommended to him by strangers. How does that sound?”

“It sounds like you’re drawn to people who don’t have their shit together,” he replied dryly.

I laughed. That was actually funny.

“Perfection is boring, pussycat. Give me all the cracks and dents.”

His mouth twitched, as if he were hiding a smile and kind of failing.

It made me happy.

Maybe there was hope for him after all.