Page 6 of With this Ring (Mastered #7)

While he checked it, Gregorio scanned the monitors, then strode to the window.

A couple of very high snow flurries swirled in the wind. There’d be no measurable precipitation from the small flakes, even if they made it to the ground.

But the dancing crystals whispered winter was on its way. Short days and endless nights suited him fine.

“Ready?”

Nodding, Gregorio turned.

Slipping his phone into a pocket, Damien stood.

The two walked toward what had once been the western perimeter of the property.

A temporary privacy fence was in place to prevent construction from interfering with views from the Den.

They walked through a gate, and Gregorio pulled it shut behind them.

“Bunkhouse is farther along than I expected.”

“I want the crew to be able to use it so work can continue through the winter.”

Damien nodded. “Good plan.”

With how remote the Den was, and the lack of access to paved roads, getting contractors from town could be a challenge. Offering housing was a bonus.

Next they toured the completed cabin.

The log structure had been decorated in rich, earthy colors.

A sturdy O-ring was attached to an overhead beam, and apparatus had been screwed into the walls making the place a BDSM-lovers paradise. The bed’s posters were perfect for securing a sub, and the rustic, hand-carved wardrobe was stocked with luxury toys, all crafted by Master Marcus.

The bathroom was spa-like, and the kitchen was well-equipped. “Still a few finishing touches needed.” Including towels, pots, pans, coffeemaker, candles, and a couple of throw rugs that were still on backorder.

“You’re welcome to move in here,” Damien offered.

Gregorio shrugged. “Happy where I am.” He lacked the time and energy for anything other than basic necessities. In a perfect world, he’d be able to load his oversize SUV and walk away from his life in under ten minutes.

“Offer stands, if you change your mind.”

I won’t. He nodded politely. “If you remember, this was supposed to be the owner’s cottage,” Gregorio reminded his boss. Which would give him and Catrina more privacy when they were in attendance.

“I can always make a reservation.”

For now, Damien still kept an apartment at the Den. But there had been discussion about turning the set of rooms over to Wolfe.

Gregorio’s watch vibrated, and he checked the gate. Speak of the devil . “And he’s here.” Earlier than expected, which was a point in his favor.

As they approached the Den, Wolfe braked, bringing his black SUV to a stop in front of the valet stand.

He emerged, then jogged over to join them.

“Understand you’re doing a demonstration tonight,” Damien said, shaking the man’s hand.

“Gregorio warned me he’ll be watching.” Wolfe gave a quick smile. “I have big shoes to fill.”

Gregorio all but snarled. “You won’t be filling Damien’s shoes. No one can.”

Chastened, Wolfe nodded. “No offense meant, sir,” he said to Damien.

“None taken.” He studied the apprentice. “Bring your unique approach to the evening. I’m looking forward to watching.”

The boss was far more generous than Gregorio.

Once they were all inside, Wolfe headed for the dressing room, and Gregorio watched him go.

“He’ll be okay,” Damien said. “Reminds me a little of myself at that age.”

“Wolfe is nothing like you, boss.” Then he excused himself. “I’ll make my rounds.” He started to walk away, only to be stopped by the quietness of Damien’s voice.

“Do you need some time off?”

With a furious scowl, he turned back to face his friend. “The fuck you talking about?”

“You got injured again.”

Damien knew him too well for Gregorio to attempt to deny the truth.

He’d been convinced he was disguising his limp, but obviously he was wrong. “Should see the other guy.” Not that there was anything left of him.

“It’s no hardship for me to step in. A week, a month.” Damien shrugged. “Take some time off.”

If he didn’t keep moving, soul-sucking remorse for his life choices would drop Gregorio to his knees.

“At least consider taking tonight off,” Damien suggested. “I’m here and, frankly, looking for something to do.”

“Appreciate the offer.”

Damien held up a hand. “I’ll say no more.”

As long as there was breath in his body, Gregorio would not abdicate his duties. “See you around.”

Each man went their separate ways.

Restless, Gregorio headed back to the dungeon.

If he was smart, he’d find a sub to play with later.

Or he’d bare his back for a thrashing that would take him out of his own head. On occasion, for the right Top, he’d be a bottom. With the way he lived his life, he sometimes craved release and that was one way to find it.

Another was by totally being in the moment with the right submissive.

Focusing on the job at hand, he checked the private rooms. In addition to being sparkling clean, they’d been stocked with water and sanitizing wipes.

Since there was nothing else to be done here, he headed back upstairs and outside onto the patio.

Zeph’s crew was ready with a stage and impressive backdrop.

Tall, round tables had been draped in white, and caterers had even added candles. Battery-operated, it appeared.

Ten minutes before seven, he lit the firepits and gas heaters.

Then the first guests arrived.

Within an hour, the place was filling up.

Zeph took the stage, glimmering in the spotlight.

Along with a couple of House Monitors, Gregorio kept an eye on the action in the private rooms, and he stopped to answer questions from a couple who were new to the club.

Back upstairs in command central, Damien was nowhere to be seen, so Gregorio scanned the monitors.

The bus carrying Master Niles and Brandy, along with the first timers who’d met in Winter Park, lumbered through the entrance.

Since two people were at the check-in desk, his help wasn’t needed—at least not right away.

One guest paused at the entrance.

Others were paired up, chatting, but she was alone, and she looked around, scanning her surroundings before glancing overhead.

She looked straight into a camera at him, her shockingly emerald-colored eyes wide and unblinking.

No one else had eyes that color.

Sasha.

Petal.

My Petal.

The only woman on the planet off limits to him.

The one woman who haunted his nights.

Playing with her that night at Leah and Jon’s wedding had been the biggest mistake of his life.

Forbidden fruit.

Once he’d skimmed his work-calloused fingers over her silky skin, tasted her desire, inhaled the jasmine-scented promise of hope, listened to her tiny whimpers as she begged for him…

He’d fucking become obsessed.

To protect her—and save himself—he’d had to walk away. And stay away.

Otherwise he’d have yielded to his baser nature and claimed her forever.

Gregorio knew one thing for certain. Sasha was too good of a person for someone like him.

He’d killed without compunction—recently, even—and considered it a good night’s work.

And that night at the wedding, he’d taught Tristan a lesson he wouldn’t soon forget. Pretty boy would be minding his manners around Petal in the future.

Before he’d walked off, Gregorio had suggested the man catch a ride to the emergency room since he wasn’t fit to drive himself.

That was the kind of man Gregorio was. And Sasha deserved happily ever after with a man who would come home at night.

He should find a House Monitor, maybe Wolfe, and have his former sister-in-law’s curvy derrière put right back on a bus and hauled back to Winter Park. Where she was safe from men like Gregorio.

For a moment it seemed she willed him to make eye contact.

As if he could look away.

What in the fuck are you doing here, Petal?

With a tiny shrug, she severed the connection she couldn’t possibly have known they’d shared.

Moments later, she selected a white band.

White?

The actual hell?

Scowling, Gregorio folded his arms. She was here as a submissive?

She wanted to be dominated?

Anger, hot and molten, seeped through him, picking up speed.

No fucking way, Petal.

No man is touching you. Except for me…