Page 11 of Theirs to Desire (Club M: Boxed Set)

FIONA

S how up at our office tomorrow night at eight. Scene with us.

The words hang in the air. Adrian’s implication is clear. He doesn’t think I can do it. All of them—Avery, Brody, Adrian, even Xavier—have been implying that I can’t do this. That Raymond Downing made me afraid of BDSM.

That’s bullshit. I’m not walking around with unresolved issues. I’m not. Really. There’s a perfectly logical reason why I’ve stayed away from dominants. As I told Avery last night, I’m just being careful.

You also told Avery you could trust Adrian and Brody.

I eat a forkful of the spicy penne while I consider the offer.

Could I let them tie me up, control me, dominate me?

I reach for my glass of water, silently wishing it was wine instead, and take a sip of the ice-cold liquid.

My face feels flushed, and my body is heated, my insides tightening with long-suppressed desire.

If I don’t do it, Adrian will call Xavier Leforte and tell him that I’m not in any shape to visit Club M.

Will Xavier listen? I think he will. My prior experience with BDSM makes me useful, but I’m hardly irreplaceable. Private investigators are a dime a dozen.

Losing the hundred grand won’t be catastrophic. Adrian told me that they have no intention of competing with me. While Xavier Leforte’s money would be nice, I don’t technically need it.

But… They think I’m weak. They think Raymond Downing broke me. This is my chance to prove them wrong.

I’m going to do it.

Adrian is watching me, and I get the sense that he knows exactly what I’m going to say. Then Brody flips his phone toward Adrian, and the dark-haired man reads the message on the screen and grimaces. “How long has it been since you heard from her?”

“Five years,” Brody says tersely. “Not long enough.” He rises to his feet. “Fiona, I’m sorry. Will you excuse me? I need to return a call.”

“Go.” Adrian’s eyes are troubled as he waves Brody away. “I’ll take care of things here.”

We’re done with our meal. I watch Brody walk away, his shoulders tense. What’s going on with Brody? Who is the mystery woman who hasn’t contacted him for five years? A former submissive?

It’s none of your business, Fiona. You’re not looking for a dominant.

Adrian lifts his hand, and the waitress is at our side instantly. “Could we get our check, please?”

“One tab, Mr. Lockhart?” She flutters her eyelashes at Adrian, and I feel a surge of annoyance. Stop flirting with them and do your job, damn it.

Ouch. Now I’m jealous? This isn’t good. Nothing about the way I’ve reacted to Brody and Adrian—ducking behind the fountain at lunch yesterday, the extremely detailed, extremely vivid sex dream I had about them last night—is normal.

If I had any sense, I’d turn them down and walk away from the job at Club M.

“I’ll see you tomorrow night,” I say instead. “Your office at eight.”

A smile touches his lips. “I’m looking forward to it, Fiona.”

“So am I,” I reply, lifting my chin up. But I’m lying. My stomach is churning, and I want to hurl.