Page 3 of Theirs to Desire (Club M: Boxed Set)

ADRIAN

“ W hat do you think of the new office?”

My partner Brody has been away in New York for a week, overseeing the security setup of one of our more high-profile clients. He’s just returned, and the two of us are catching up over a late lunch.

It’s a hot, muggy day. The sun beats down on us on the outdoor patio, and I have to chug my beer to keep it from getting warm.

Brody’s eyebrows rise. “I never thought I’d see the day Adrian Lockhart drank in the middle of a workday.”

“Office, Brody,” I growl, irritated.

He gives me an amused look. “The office is perfect,” he admits. “The crew seems pretty happy to be in Georgetown too. Nita was practically dancing with glee.”

Our assistant’s commute has gone from an hour of gridlock to a pleasant fifteen-minute walk. Of course she’s ecstatic. “It made sense. Most of the team lives in Georgetown.”

“So, are you going to tell me what the drinking is about?”

People look at Brody Payne, and they notice the friendly smile, the eyes that sparkle with humor. Some of them—the foolish ones—assume he’s easy-going, but not too bright. They’re wrong. Nothing gets by Brody.

“Xavier Leforte called this morning,” I reply.

He’s in the act of lifting his glass to his lips. He carefully sets it down. “That’s a name I haven’t heard in a very long time.”

Indeed. It’s been two years since we last saw Xavier. Ironically, it was at another funeral. This time, we were mourning our dead submissive, Sandy, who had died in a ski accident.

I suggested the trip. It’s my fault she died.

“I’m assuming he didn’t call to exchange pleasantries,” Brody continues. “What does he want?”

“You know Xavier,” I shrug. “He wouldn’t say over the phone. We have a three o’clock appointment with him.”

Brody’s piercing blue eyes settle on me. “Is it about the club?”

Club M is a high-end sex club. Mostly BDSM, though it’s pretty welcoming of most kinks. A lot of the members like ménage, so we sometimes joke that that’s what the M stands for. We’d met Sandy there. The three of us had played there almost on a weekly basis.

I haven’t been back since her death. It would hurt too much.

“Probably,” I reply. Why else would Xavier be phoning out of the blue?

The waiter arrives, and we order our lunch. When he’s gone, Brody takes a long sip of his drink. “I’ve been thinking of going back.”

I go very still. “To the club?”

His lips tighten. “It’s been two years, Adrian. I love Sandy. I will always love her, but she’s gone.” He surveys me warily. “I think you should come with me.” He pauses and plays his trump card. “Sandy would have wanted us to move on.”

He’s right. Sandra Jackson had a possessive streak a mile wide, but she would have never wanted us to mourn her forever.

She was far too practical for that. I can almost hear her voice now.

Adrian, it’s been two whole years. I’m very flattered at your devotion, but for fuck’s sake, get your ass back in the game.

Something still holds me back. Guilt. Sandy is dead, and we’re alive, and it feels wrong to savor life again.

“How do you know?” I growl. The waiter chooses that moment to show up with our sandwiches, and he takes a nervous half-step back when he hears the anger in my tone.

He sets our food down and disappears, and I continue to glare at Brody.

“How the fuck do you know what Sandy would have wanted? It’s not as if we can ask her, is it? ”

Brody doesn’t flinch. “I knew her,” he says. “As did you. Stop the bullshit, Adrian. It was a horrible accident, but it was an accident.” He takes a bite of his meatball sub, and some marinara slops on his tie.

I smirk openly, the tension draining away. “Smooth.”

His lips twitch. “It’s a meatball sub. I challenge you to eat it without making a mess.”

“That’s why I ordered a turkey club, buddy.”

We spend the rest of the meal catching up on Brody’s work in New York, and on what’s been going on in the office while he’s gone. Neither of us mentions Xavier or the club again, but it’s there in the background, and I know I can’t ignore it forever.

Brody will go to the club, with or without me. The real question is, what do I want to do?