Page 38 of Theirs to Desire (Club M: Boxed Set)

FIONA

A ll the way to Brody’s place, I debate whether I’m going to confront them or not. When I arrive at seven with my bottle of wine, I still haven’t decided. Am I ready to hear their answer?

I lift my hand to knock at the door, but before I can, it swings open. Brody stands in the doorway. “Come on in, Fiona,” he says with a smile, stepping aside to allow me entry. I walk in, my mind barely registering the beautiful space. I’m too nervous.

His eyes run over me, taking in my blue wrap dress, with its low neckline. “You look lovely.”

He’s dressed casually in black slacks and a navy-blue t-shirt. Despite the churning in my gut, I smile back at him as I hand him the wine. I can’t help it. “You cooked. It smells great.”

“I’ve got some steak going on the grill,” he says. “I hope you like fajitas.”

My stomach chooses that moment to rumble. I go beet-red. Brody chuckles warmly. “Please sit,” he says, pointing to the living room area, where two couches are arranged in an L-shape around a fireplace. He opens a large bag of chips and empties it into a bowl, placing it in front of me.

“Where’s Adrian?” I ask, sitting down at the corner of one of the couches. Brody takes a seat on the other, giving me plenty of space. Even though my stomach is churning with tension, I still feel a faint stab of disappointment at how far away from me he is.

“He’ll be a couple of minutes,” Brody replies. “He stepped out to take a call.”

“Is everything okay?”

He shrugs. “Work. Your job must intrude into your life as well.” He gets to his feet. “I’m sorry, I’ve been quite rude,” he says apologetically. “Can I get you something to drink?”

Before I can answer, the door opens, and Adrian walks in. He’s dressed in jeans and a grey t-shirt, and when he sees me, his face breaks out into a smile. “Hey Fiona,” he greets me, collapsing next to me on the couch. “It’s really good to see you.”

“I was just about to offer Fiona a drink,” Brody cuts in. “Adrian?”

“Yes please.”

Brody turns to me. “Fiona, red wine? Something else?”

“Wine’s perfect. Want to open Xavier’s bottle?” Maybe the alcohol will calm me.

Brody pours wine into glasses and hands one to me and another to Adrian. As he’s doing that, Adrian turns to me. “There’s something we need to tell you.”

I take a deep breath. “You knew that Downing would be at the club, didn’t you?”

He nods, unsurprised. “You figured it out. I thought you might.”

I take a big sip of the wine. “Did Xavier ask you to sleep with me?” I blurt out.

“What?” Brody sounds shocked. “No, of course not, Fiona.”

“But he did ask you to watch over me, didn’t he?” I persist. “Why’d you do it?”

Adrian exhales. “I told you we were in college together, right?”

“You said you bonded over late-night drinking,” I reply carefully.

He shakes his head. “Not quite. We bonded over BDSM.”

To hide my surprise, I lean forward and grab a handful of chips. “You did?”

Brody answers. “Yeah. I grew up in a small town in Mississippi. It was, in many ways, a sheltered upbringing. It wasn’t until I got to Boston that I met people who shared my tastes. It was… exhilarating. ”

“It was,” Adrian agrees. “Until things got out of control.” His eyes are sad. “Our friends Lina and Stephan liked to play harder than the rest of us. Stephan, in particular, had a reckless streak in him. The play got wilder. More dangerous.”

“What happened?” My voice is a whisper.

“A breath play scene went badly wrong,” Brody says bleakly. “Lina died. When Stephan realized what he’d done, he shot himself.”

Adrian stares into his wine. “This lifestyle comes with responsibility,” he says. “We shirked it once. We made a vow when we buried Lina. Never again.”

“What does this have to do with me?”

The men exchange glances. For a minute or two, neither of them answer.

Finally, Brody breaks the quiet. “Earlier this year, Downing killed a prostitute in Thailand,” he says.

“But he bribed his way out. Xavier’s using you as bait, hoping your presence in the club will make Downing do something unstable. That’s why he asked us to protect you.”

Shock and anger swirl through me. Raymond killed someone? He’d been vicious and mercurial when we were together, but things have escalated dangerously. While Xavier should have been open with me from the start, I agree with his fundamental impulse. Raymond Downing needs to be stopped.

But where does Maria Dumonte fit into this?

“He hired you to investigate a blackmail attempt,” Adrian says, seeing my frown of confusion. “That’s what you’re wondering about, aren’t you?”

“Did he make the story up?” If he did, I’m going to have a serious conversation with Xavier Leforte. One where I point out that he might be richer than God, but that doesn’t give him the right to jerk me around and waste my time.

“He says he didn’t.” Brody takes a deep breath. “I’m not thrilled with Xavier,” he says. “I’d prefer that you don’t go back to the club as long as Downing’s still a member.”

“He killed someone.” I look up at them, silently begging them to understand. “It could have been me. I can’t stand by and do nothing.”

“I thought you’d feel that way.” Adrian sighs. “We’re not going to stop you, Fiona. I already told you. Our dominance is reserved for the bedroom. But,” he adds, “I do have a request.”

“Of course.”

“Don’t confront him alone.” He takes a deep breath. “I lost someone I cared about once. I don’t want it to happen again.”

They care about me?

“Fiona, I’m not going to lie to you.” Brody’s eyes are uncharacteristically serious. “When we had lunch with you, we did it because Xavier asked us to protect you. But…”

“But?” I take another sip of my wine—it’s excellent—and stare at them, my heart in my mouth.

“When I asked you to come over to our office last week,” Adrian says. “I didn’t do it for Xavier. I did it because I was attracted to you.”

“Me too.” Brody’s blue eyes hold mine. “We should have told you everything this weekend. I’m sorry.”

Raymond never apologized to me. Not once. He ignored my hard limits so many times, and he never once said he was sorry. I already know that Adrian and Brody are far, far better men than Raymond Downing will ever be, but if I needed evidence of it, I just got it.

“So I’m still doing the pet-play demo then?” I ask them, trying to keep my tone light.

“And more, I hope,” Adrian says quietly.

I’d really like that.

“Fuck.” Brody jumps to his feet with a curse, darting toward the balcony. “I forgot the meat on the grill.”

Adrian laughs and gets to his feet as well. “I hope you like your steak well done, Fiona.”

After dinner, the three of us fool around, but we don’t have sex. “Why not?” I ask, a definite pout in my voice.

Adrian’s eyes narrow. “Fifi,” he says. “If I were you, I’d reconsider that tone.” His voice softens. “I want you, Fiona, don’t get me wrong. But I also want to get to know you.”

Not going to lie, I swoon a little at that.

“Of course, we own your orgasms,” Brody tells me, his eyes twinkling. “So you can’t go home and finger yourself, little kitten.” He grins at me, hot, dominant and wicked, utterly confident that I’m going to obey. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to wait until Friday.”

On second thought, cancel that swoon. “You,” I glare at him, trying not to break out into a smile, “are a jerk.”

“I’m sorry, Fifi. What was that again?”

Damn. Gotta address my dominant with respect. This time, I don’t hide my smile. “You are a jerk, Mr. Payne.”

The week passes. Despite my increasing suspicions that there is no blackmail attempt, I spend the better part of Wednesday and Thursday investigating Maria Dumonte.

I read her social media posts and making careful note of who likes her status updates on Facebook.

I follow her to her marketing job on Wednesday and tail her to her girls’ night out.

And… nothing. If Maria Dumonte is worried that someone’s trying to blackmail her, I can’t see it. The more time I spend watching her, the more convinced I am that Xavier hired me under false pretenses.

Then again, I can’t be too irritated. Had it not been for this job, I’d have never faced my fears. I’d never have seen Adrian and Brody.

It’s been really hard obeying their rule about not touching myself. I can’t wait for Friday afternoon to roll around. I can’t wait to return to Club M.