Page 50 of Single Malt

The world was full of unscrupulous people who were eager to take advantage of someone like her. Someone who’d already had the habit of seeing only the good in people while being placed in situations above her maturity level. One of the main reasons I’d acquired an off-campus apartment before she’d come to Stanford had been to remove her from some of the situations she would have found herself in if she’d lived in a dorm.

Maybe our parents were right that she should move straight to a doctorate. It would give her more time before going out into the ‘real world.’ If she went that route, she’d also have more time to decide if higher education would be preferable to working with elementary students.

It wasn’t as if she had no experience, though. She’d done her student teaching and had received rave reviews from the teacher she’d worked with. The kids had loved her too. Neither was surprising. People loved her. She was warm and genuine, always eager to help. Being smart and organized meant she was good at anything that required an academic approach.

She was just too damn innocent.

“What about you, Freedom?” Mom turned her attention to me, and Dad followed. “Have you given any further consideration to staying at Stanford to pursue a doctorate?”

“I haven’t ruled it out,” I said honestly. “A doctorate would be beneficial if I decided to pursue a professorship here, especially when it came time to look into tenure, but it would also give me an edge over the competition for any other positions I might want.”

“Does that mean you haven’t already been inquiring about possible positions?” Mom asked. “You’d mentioned something about finding work with an ambassador or some sort of foreign field office. Is that still something you’re considering?”

“Yes, that’s also a possibility.” My meal soured a little in my stomach as I prepared my next sentence. “In fact, I recently spoke with the nephew of the U.S. Ambassador to Greece.”

I didn’t mention that said nephew had tried to recruit me and an eighteen-year-old co-ed into a threesome. Not exactly ‘brunch’ conversation.

“Dr. Korbin Worthington III,” Aline announced. “Fancy name but not as smart as he thinks he is.”

“You went to one of his lectures?” I didn’t like the idea that she’d attended a lecture without telling me, but the alternative was worse since it would’ve meant that she’d have met him outside the classroom.

As much as I didn’t want Korbin near Karina, I wanted him near Aline even less.

“One of my classes was canceled, and I was already in the building. I thought it might be something we could enjoy talking about.” She shook her head. “But then I realized that the reason you hadn’t encouraged me to attend a lecture was because it was essentially a waste of time.”

“It doesn’t sound as if this man will be much of a help for you,” Dad said. “I hope you asked for a way to contact his uncle without going through him.”

“And you’ll want to check out his uncle, make sure that he’s not the same sort as his nephew,” Mom added.

Because I didn’t have the common sense to figure that out on my own.

I exhaled a long breath while moving a piece of egg around my plate with a fork. Why did I have the sinking suspicion that Aline’s and my last day with our parents was going to be the longest one of all?

Thirty-Two

Brody

I should’ve beenin a great mood. The rental car had been ready as soon as I’d reached the counter, and the traffic had been almost non-existent. The hotel had upgraded my room from their second-best suite to their best one after a pipe had burst in my room, and the woman who’d had the best suite had checked-out a day early.

The whiskey I’d shipped here had arrived on time and undamaged. I’d met with the owners of Black Masque on Thursday afternoon and then had gone back yesterday with my whiskey. All that was left was to work out the contract details. The owners had also surprised me with a VIP pass for this evening.

Everything had gone even better than I’d hoped, and I should’ve been on cloud nine.

Except I couldn’t stop my mind from wandering back to Palo Alto and what had happened at Stanford. I knew that Freedom was safe, but a part of me felt like I needed to see for myself that she was unharmed, be there for her. It didn’t matter that she’d never actually been in danger. A person’s psyche couldn’t go back in time and reverse what was experienced. She still had to process the trauma.

As I dressed, I found myself more aware of the scars on my body than I usually was. Honestly, I didn’t really think about them now unless someone pointed them out, but the thought of what Freedom must’ve been going through over the past few days brought my own ordeal back to mind.

She wouldn’t have any visible reminders, but there would be other things that triggered her. The backfiring of a car. Something being dropped. Hopefully, because this hadn’t been the kind of incident where people died or had even been injured, it’d be easier for her to get past it, but it was impossible to know how someone responded to this type of stress until they actually went through it.

I pushed aside the memories of my own experience and focused on tonight. Technically, this wasn’t a business meeting, but I had no doubt that the owners and the employees I’d met would be watching me. Carrie and Gavin had prepared me for the guardedness that came with going to a BDSM club without being in the life. Any club owner, to protect their members, their business, and themselves, would be cautious.

Even though parts of society were far more accepting than they had been in the past, plenty of people were still hateful and judgmental. Doug and Diana Meyer had been pleased with my product and the terms I’d offered, but I knew tonight would be my real test.

Similar to Club Privé, Black Masque was a members-only club with a sponsorship requirement for anyone interested in becoming a member. I’d been given the same sort of guest pass, but since I didn’t have a member to escort me through the regular entrance, I’d been told to go to the back-alley door where a staff member would let me inside. Apparently, some of the club’s more prominent members would enter and exit this way to avoid any paparazzi that may or may not have decided that a big sex scandal would be the best way to advance their career.

I pitied anyone who was stupid enough to try that at Club Privé. Besides the fact that Gavin had the build and presence that could’ve intimidated most people, Carrie was a kick-ass lawyer. I’d heard that a few of her friends who were also members were lawyers too. I had no doubt anyone who tried to use the club to sensationalize a story would find themselves facing some serious consequences.

Yesterday, I’d eaten at the restaurant above the club and had been impressed, both by the food and the ambiance. I had no idea if the club’s location was commonly known but not discussed or if that was the sort of information that was only passed on by word of mouth to certain people. Either way, the restaurant had held no hints that the things happening below had nothing to do with fine dining.