Page 4 of With this Ring (Mastered #7)

Three years later

I wish there was any other way.

With a disbelieving sigh, Sasha unzipped her suitcase and pulled out the glossy, faux-leather ensemble with big silver buckles.

The outfit seemed to mock her. She was in too deep and had no idea what the hell she was doing.

That wasn’t the first time the thought had occurred to her.

Which was why she was standing in a hotel room of a fancy Winter Park, Colorado lodge.

A week ago, when she’d walked into the specialty novelty store filled with all kinds of skimpy clothing, items for bachelorette parties, and a dizzying array of toys for adult escapades, she’d stood there in shock.

The helpful young clerk, maybe noticing how wide and unblinking her eyes were, had taken pity on her.

Searching for calm, she’d informed him she’d be visiting a BDSM club for the first time, and he’d guided her to the far, forbidden corner of the store, hidden behind thick, red velvet curtains.

Quickly, she’d learned nothing could have prepared her for seeing the shocking items in person—gags, blindfolds, paddles, whips, clamps, and other items she assumed were supposed to go inside her rear. How they would fit, she had no idea.

Saving her from her galloping thoughts, the clerk had tipped his head to one side, as if studying her body shape, then he’d plucked a hanger from a rack and assured her it was the right look for the event.

He’d talked her into adding a crop with a small, puffy pink heart on the top.

If she played with anyone—which she didn’t intend to—the implement would be a great introduction to impact play.

Because he made sense, she’d allowed herself to be talked into the purchase.

Desperate to escape the shop, she’d offered her credit card, then strode toward the exit as fast as she could, opaque plastic bag clutched in hand.

Now, as she studied the outfit, Sasha realized she was stalling.

She’d bought it for a single reason. To get Gregorio’s attention.

Would it?

With a sigh, she transferred the outfit to the bed. The stark contrast between the white duvet cover and the shiny black material shocked her, and suddenly a whole new set of doubts assailed her.

In her years as a security specialist for one of the largest firms on the planet and now as the owner of her own private investigation firm, she’d adopted plenty of disguises.

More often than not, she tucked her long hair into a thick ponytail and donned a baseball cap, extra-large sweatshirt, and some sort of jacket to hide her weapons of choice, then slipped on a pair of oversize sunglasses and headed out.

Invisible, blending in, she was able to surveil suspects who had security of their own.

Even if she was in a formal dress, pretending to fit in among the country’s elite, it was as if she were wearing a layer of armor. But this costume of sorts…? This would be like slipping into a stranger’s skin.

Before she could pick up the skirt, the piercing ring of her phone shattered the silence.

She jumped, testament to the fact she was on edge.

Her nerves had been frayed ever since she’d discovered her home office had been ransacked and case files had been strewn across the floor.

More disturbingly, several were missing.

The invasion was a violation of her sanctuary, leaving her feeling exposed and vulnerable in a way she never had been before.

With a deep inhalation to steady herself, she strode across the room to pick up the device.

Ashley.

Sasha’s right-hand person and office manager of Pathways Investigations—a company she now owned by herself after splitting from her one-time business partner and love interest.

At least this wasn’t a blocked number with heavy breathing and vague threats when she answered. Those calls had become more frequent, occurring more than once a day.

She’d considered ditching her main phone entirely, but clients still called it, and missing a lead could be catastrophic.

Instead, she rerouted voicemails through a secure system, disabled GPS tracking, and kept a burner in her go-bag, powered off and ready.

If things got worse, she could vanish off the grid in under sixty seconds.

Forcing her voice to be normal rather than rushed, she answered.

“I just got your message, Sash. Sorry I didn’t get back to you before now.”

“You deserve time off.” Even if Sasha couldn’t remember the last time she hadn’t worked.

Still, if Ashley weren’t on staff, there was no way Sasha or her three investigators would be nearly as organized or manage to keep the billing straight. Right now, Ashley’s calm competence was a lifeline in the chaos of Sasha’s life.

“What’s up?”

“I’m working on a case, and I will be out of cell phone range.”

“Oh?” Ashley asked, tone curious, as it should be. “Which client?”

“This is something personal.” At best, her words were a half-truth. The invasion could be related to the Santos case, but maybe it was something else.

“You’re making me nervous, Sash. Everything okay?”

She wasn’t normally vague, but then again nothing about the events of the last weeks had been normal.

Ashley remained silent, waiting for more information.

Instead of offering it, Sasha changed the subject.

“I’ll be late on Monday morning.” Maybe.

Still, Pathways had clients who were counting on her, which meant this distraction had to be forced into the background.

Nothing, nothing would stop her from doing the jobs she’d been hired for.

“I have an appointment with Mrs. Santos before coming in.” Something she was not looking forward to.

On one hand, she had some good news for the woman who had hired Pathways to find out if her husband was having an affair.

He wasn’t.

But Sasha had uncovered information that opened an entire Pandora’s box filled with questions.

How had Felix been able to purchase the brand-new vehicle and have it delivered to his wife last week? From what Sasha had been able to ascertain, the man shouldn’t have been able to afford even the big, fat red bow wrapping the luxury SUV.

And the Santos case file was among the missing ones. Could be a coincidence, but intuition told her it wasn’t.

“I can open up the office, if you want me to.”

“That would be great.” Typically, she was first to arrive, by at least an hour. “And hold things down until I get there?”

“Of course.” For a moment, Ashley remained quiet before asking, “You sure everything is okay?”

No . Nothing was. The admission would make it real. And she wasn’t ready for that to happen, at least not until she had a better idea of what was going on.

Despite herself, Sasha crossed to the window for the dozenth time. Nudging back the blinds, she took in her surroundings, looking for any sign of trouble.

She’d constantly swept her SUV for scanners, just like she’d been trained—visual inspection, mirrors, magnet detector, even her handheld RF scanner. There were never any hits. She found nothing in the wheel wells, the undercarriage, or even hidden in the glovebox lining.

Since it was late summer, off season at the ski resort, the parking lot wasn’t busy. Occasional shuttle buses passed by, taking vacationers to various parts of the town. Carefree laughter and chatter mocked Sasha’s inner turmoil.

“Sash? You’re worrying me.”

“Everything’s fine.” She released the shade.

“Oh -kay.” Ashley sounded as unconvinced as Sasha was.

“Promise.”

“You’re a terrible liar.”

Which didn’t always serve her well. She gave a small laugh to fill the awkward silence.

But obviously relenting, Ashley asked, “Do you need me to work tomorrow?”

“No.” She tried to always give her staff Sundays off.

Rest made people sharper. “But if you don’t mind letting the answering service know to contact Justine if I can’t be reached, I’d appreciate it.

” Pathways had hired a service so they appeared to have staff twenty-four hours a day, and Justine was the agent who’d been with Sasha the longest. “Oh, and give her a heads-up that I’m unavailable and that we’ll move our weekly meeting to Tuesday? ”

“Got it.”

“You sure you don’t mind? I know I’m interrupting your weekend.”

“I’ve got you covered.”

“Appreciate it.” Aware of time ticking, she paced the room.

“Can I hope you’ll at least get some relaxation?”

As if. “ Maybe.” Then, trying to be polite, she simply asked, “How about you?”

“Yeah. Jonah and I are going to grab some takeout and…” Ashley laughed. “Well, you know.”

At least one of them would be enjoying a hot hookup.

Sasha’s last one had been so long ago that she barely remembered it. The date, on the rebound after her hot, mind-blowing experience in the janitor’s closet with Gregorio, had been disastrous.

She wouldn’t have spent any time with the blind date except for the fact she’d been trying to prove to herself that Gregorio meant nothing to her.

Unfortunately, the sex had been so awful she couldn’t recall the man’s name.

And he’d done nothing to shove thoughts of Gregorio from her head.

Then came her boss, Toby.

If she hadn’t been so obsessed with her girlhood hero, would she have made such disastrous decisions with Toby?

“Seriously, though. Don’t work too hard,” Ashley urged.

Sasha actually wasn’t sure what she’d do if she had an hour to herself. Spend more time worrying was the most likely scenario. That’s what happened during the lulls in her life. Which was another reason to stay busy.

Ending the call, she faced the waiting outfit once more.

No more stalling.

She’d set her course, and she needed to look the part, even if the outfit was ridiculously skimpy.

Because tonight’s event at the Den was for ladies, particularly ones who were new and didn’t have a sponsor, an informal event had been arranged. She was expected to meet others downstairs in the hotel conference room thirty minutes from now.

Rules and protocols would be discussed and there would be time for questions. Evidently the hosts were an actual D/s couple, Brandy and her Dominant, Master Niles.

Doubtless all the attendees were being vetted, which was smart, and something she appreciated. After all, people would be getting naked together, and no doubt some of the profiles contained lies or half-truths.

Hers certainly did.

In it, she’d claimed to be a submissive named Petal.

Stupid, stupid.

After all, he’d called her that.

Gregorio.

Her crush.

Her potential savior.

The only man she trusted to help her.

And the current caretaker at the Den, if her research was accurate. Which she prayed it was. After all, seeing him was the reason for this elaborate ruse. She had to get to him somehow. Since he was no longer an employee of Hawkeye, she’d had to use all her resources to track him this far.

She would never have tracked him down if she didn’t need him.

Squaring her shoulders, she dropped her robe to the floor, pulled on a thong, then squirmed her way into the tight skirt. No way would she be able to take her usual big strides. The material acted more like mummification than clothing.

Somehow she managed to pull the top over her head. Then she began to tug the tiny piece into place.

The faux leather had cap sleeves and laced up the front. Horrifyingly, the garment was so short her midriff was left bare.

Precariously balancing, she slipped into four-inch platform sandals. At least those weren’t as dangerous as some of the stilettos she’d eyed.

Being methodical steadied her nerves and had saved her life.

After a breath, Sasha ran through her pre-mission checklist, unzipping her oversize duffel bag to confirm its contents. Running shoes. Leggings and a sweatshirt. Panties that covered far more than the butt-floss confection currently buried between her ass cheeks.

In case she might have her bag searched on the way in, she’d added a bottled water and the crop she’d been talked into purchasing.

Her ops bag also had a secret compartment that hid her burner phone, first-aid kit, extra chargers, and her firearm. The burner wasn’t active yet, but she had it prepped with encrypted apps and prepaid minutes. If anyone was tracking her, they’d have to work harder than this.

Sasha debated bringing her main phone at all. But if she ghosted, clients would panic, and she couldn’t afford to look flaky. Ultimately, she tucked it deep into the hidden compartment—just in case she needed to prove she hadn’t disappeared off the face of the earth.

Additionally, she also had a small purse with her real phone, an ID, room keycard, a few dollars, and a credit card.

Once all that was done, she walked across the room to fetch her coat from a peg on the wall.

The sight of her reflection in a full-length mirror stunned her.

Who the hell am I?

In this BDSM-friendly getup, legs and abs bare, and wearing tons of makeup and mascara to exaggeratedly highlight her eyes, this was her best disguise ever. Sasha barely recognized herself.

Maybe Gregorio won’t, either.

All she needed, though, was to capture his attention. And hopefully he’d listen to her, for at least a few minutes.

One of the final things he’d said to her echoed through her memory.

“You’ve always needed a protector.”

She’d hated the patronizing tone in his deep, rich voice, and she’d despised his smug certainty. But right this moment, she resented the hell out of the fact she was going to prove him right.

Squaring her chin, she shrugged into her coat.

The email she’d received from the Den yesterday said all people at the gathering had to be dressed suitably while in the hotel public spaces. Don’t scare the ’nillas , they’d warned.

Which, she’d discovered, was shorthand for vanillas—people who weren’t in the BDSM lifestyle.

She’d learned all kinds of things about consent, and the club’s safe word had been mentioned in every communication.

Rules she appreciated, because they let her know what to expect in life. Sometimes she even followed ones she agreed with.

After securing both her bags over her shoulder, she looked through the peephole, then she cracked the door slightly to ensure the hallway was empty before leaving the room.

Usually, she preferred to jog down the stairs, but in these shoes she might kill herself if she tried.

Hyperaware of her surroundings, head on a swivel, she made her way to the elevator.

She’d parachuted into war zones with fewer butterflies than were flapping around inside her stomach right this moment.

This was about far more than being a fish out of water.

Each second ticking past brought her closer and closer to looking a long way up to meet the enigmatic, dark, mysterious eyes of a man who dressed all in black. For as long as she could remember, a diamond in one ear had refracted prisms of light wherever he went.

Do you still wear it, Gregorio?

No doubt he did. It served as a reminder to him of all the things he’d lost—just like the tattoo on his well-honed biceps.

But she’d do what she needed to.

Resolved, Sasha pushed the Call button.

Showtime…