by Raven Scott
“He sounds like an ass. I’m so glad I’m my own boss. I don’t know what I’d have to do if I had to try to make deals with people like that.” Interest twitched my brows, and my car unlocking echoed through the parking garage. “Is that why you’re into BDSM? Because you’re an underling?”
“Ah, no. It’s nothing like that reverse psychology shit. It’s just my kink. I’m not into the really disgusting stuff, but. . . Sadism has many forms. Mine just happens to be the bondage part, not the pain part.” Riley hummed, and I switched my phone to my other ear as I climbed into my car. I didn’t drink a clunker, but I liked this old car with its worn comforts and familiar handle. “I’m sure you’re wondering, too, Riley— but, no. Growing up, I had a normal life. . . as close to normal as someone growing up in Bumfuck Nowhere can get. My mom died in a car crash last week, but I only went to the funeral yesterday. I wouldn’t have if I didn’t have to pick up some paperwork from her lawyer in person, though, I don’t think. It’s a difficult situation to explain. My mom knew how much I hated pretty much everyone in the family but her, and she wasn’t upset about it anymore. I guess, ten years is a long time to come to terms with the idea of me making my own choices.”
“When did you move out?” Tapping the speaker button, I set my phone on the stand before twisting to back out of my spot. “I wish my mom accepted my decision.”
“I was 15 when I came to New York City. I got a job running packages until I was legal, went on the books, organized some stuff impressively and got a better job— and so on. Honestly, Riley, I bet it’s really hard on your parents to come to terms with the fact that you like being degraded.” I pulled out onto the street as I changed the subject, my fingers flexing against the wheel experimentally. “I understand the situation is seriously fucked up, but that’s because I also know that there’s a difference between your kink and an abusive action. Your partner beating you may not seem as bad when you consider the fact that you get off being sexually humiliated.”
“Yeah. . . I know. I don’t even know why I went there— it’s not like I expected anything else, but that’s what’s disappointing, you know? I don’t have any good enough friends that I can ask for help, including you, Reece. . . but you and I met at Black Cat, so I thought that maybe you’d take my side.” Grinding my teeth to the gum at Riley’s hopeful tone, I gripped the wheel with white-knuckle tightness. My heart beat furiously, pumping irritation and an ugly, buzzing sensation through my veins. The fuck kind of world is this?
“I’ll be there in about 20 minutes, okay, Riley? I’m driving now, so I have to hang up.” The words scorched my throat, and she hummed softly before hanging up. The silence was deafening. I was so fucking hot and bothered by Riley’s admission— emphasis on the ‘bothered’ part. “Fuck!”
3
Riley
The door to the room opened slowly, quietly, and my heart leaped into my throat. A white paper bag stuck through the thin opening before Reece popped his head in. His appearance struck me, for some reason. He’d shaved off his neat stubble clean since the last time I’d seen him. Granted, it’s been weeks, but it only made that guilty feeling churn my gut.
“I brought donuts. You’re not allergic to chocolate, are you?” I shook my head, and Reece smiled warmly as he shut the door behind him. “How are you feeling, Riley?”
“Existentially— kinda alone. My partner didn’t beat me, beat me, but. . .” I trailed off, my mouth drying even as Reece held out the bag for me. “Thank you. You didn’t have to.”
“I wanted to. I got some for me, too. We’re both having a shit few days, huh.” Whenever I saw him, Reece was so thoughtful and nice. It seemed so strange that he was in a place like Black Cat, and it was that curiosity that drew me to him. Now, in hindsight, I wished I had stuck with him even though his experience and confidence were intimidating. Sitting on the other end of the sofa, he crossed his knees as I opened the bag, and the smell of fresh donuts tantalized my brain. “I’m glad I’m not stuck at my place feeling like shit about leaving my mom’s funeral before they fully buried her. I planned on getting wasted today, but I decided to read through her will and stuff first.”
“She had a living will? Why?” All the donuts were the same, chocolate frosted with no sprinkles, and I plucked one out to pass to him. Reece smiled fondly, if not a bit sadly.
“She was afraid that all her sentimental things would be destroyed if she didn’t have something in place. My mom started the will thing when I left home, ten years ago, and updated it yearly. She wasn’t wealthy by any means, but a lot of her stuff has huge price tags— not counting the sentimental value. My family seems to have everything backwards. Everyone’s a drug addict. Everyone’s a liar and a thief. I’m the only one that’s not, so even though we weren’t close, she left me everything but her house.” Taking a bite of the donut, surprise rose my brows. They’re still warm. Across the sofa, Reece leaned back to examine his treat critically. “She was a good woman— my mom. That’s why I left. Everyone stepped on her kindness, and she never had the heart to say ‘no’. I hated it, but I suppose that’s why I rose above it.”
“I moved to New York City a couple of years ago. I wouldn’t put it past my mom to be mad about that, too. She never wants to talk to me about my life. All she says is how great Redding is, and how they installed a new public pool, or how I should go to church again. To be honest, if she told me that I had such a traumatic experience and should move back home, I would’ve. . . but she didn’t.” Pulling my knee up to hide my frown, an ugly, black blotch spread across my chest. “Sexual preference doesn’t dictate what’s acceptable. . . or it shouldn’t, at least. I mean, my partner was a mistake. There’s a difference between being treated like shit and being demeaned for me. I was hesitant initially, and I should’ve taken that for what it was.”
“Well, now you know not to do that again. Especially with our kind of kink, situations matter. Context matters. I think a lot of people coming into it don’t understand that porn isn’t a real representation of this way of life.” I took another bite of my donut, and the chocolate frosting stuck to the roof of my mouth. Humming at how delicious it was, warm and light and fluffy, I glanced over at Reece to find his eyes on me. “Does your partner know where you live?”
Shaking my head, I pointed around me studiously, and Reece nodded in understanding. That was the great thing about places like the Black Cat. Paying a membership fee earned safety and a promise that what happened to me wouldn’t be tolerated.
Not that that stopped it happening in the first place, but that was my fault. I chose my partner against the gut feeling that I was making a mistake.
“You said on the phone you’re self-employed, Riley. What do you do?” Gulping down my bite harshly, I inhaled deeply through my nose as Reece arched a brow. Licking my lips, the taste of chocolate tingled on the tip of my tongue. He was patient, calm, and the fine hairs on my face rose when he reached to brush the corner of my mouth with his thumb. Pleasurable prickles swept down my neck, and my eyelids fluttered closed as I relished his gentle touch. “I don’t appreciate hesitation, Riley. Surely, it’s not too far out of your capabilities to tell me what you do for a living, huh?”
“I’m a writer. . .” Even the way Reece called me dumb was gentle and almost loving, and I gasped when he slipped his thumb into my mouth. The taste of him mingled with the lingering taste of my donut. Rubbing the pad of his thumb along my tongue, he grunted lowly in acknowledgment as shivers lodged between my shoulder blades.
“You know— one of the most beautiful sights you’ll ever see is a picture of a perfectly tied piece of meat. Do you know what Kinbaku-bi is?” My breath hitched when Reece curled his thumb against my cheek, and I shook my head slightly. “It’s Japanese— literally, the beauty of tight binding. It’s an art form. You should look it up, Riley.”
His thumb left my mouth agape, and I cracked open my eyes to tense. Reece hovered right in front of my face, not even two inches away.
His brown eyes narrowed into slits, and I sucked in a sharp breath when he grabbed my face firmly. Long fingers stretched under my jaw ear to ear, my eyes forced to the ceiling. My brain buzzed behind my forehead, and Reece dragged the tip of his nose down the length of my throat.
“If you want. . . I can show you. The wonderful helplessness— the emptiness of being unable to move— forced to accept that everything is out of your control.” He tapped my jaw before releasing me with a slight jerk, and Reece sat back to throw his arm over the back of the sofa. Panting faintly, I blinked and lowered my head to watch through hazy eyes when he waved a hand in dismissal. “Unless, of course, you simply want to go easy for right now? You may not like being wailed on, Riley, but there’s plenty of other ways to receive pain that don’t involve getting slapped in the face.”
“How did you. . .” Reaching automatically to cover my cheek, I frowned as shame flooded my face. Across the couch, Reece smiled tenderly, and he stuck his thumb between his teeth mouth with a suggestive arch of a brow.
“I can feel it in your mouth— the swelling. Along your jaw, too. You’re great at covering it up. This is not the first time I’ve seen women trying to hide something.” My lip twitched in a wry, small smile, and I folded my legs under me despite my jean’s protesting. Tapping the underside of my half-eaten donut with my middle finger, it took all my self-control not to look down when Reece frowned openly. “You made a mistake, Riley. The only thing to be ashamed of is making it a second time.”
I only nodded dully, and my heart thundered hard when he stood up to check his watch. Gnawing on my bottom lip furiously, I watched through wide eyes while Reece pulled his phone out of his pocket. Apprehension gripped me in a vice, and I lifted my donut to my lips with trembling fingers.
“We had some great sex, Riley, and I don’t know you very well, but trust me when I say— you’re a good woman, and you’re going to be fine.” That sounded a heck of a lot like a goodbye, and Reece glanced up from his phone to catch my gaze. “Do you want a ride home?”
“You’re not supposed to know where I live.” He snorted roughly, a smirk stretching his lips before he turned his attention back to his phone screen. Tapping away, he let the silence stretch, and I held my breath.
“If I was going to do anything shady, Riley, I wouldn’t need you to tell me shit. I’m only offering. It’s up to you if you want to take it. Besides, you don’t have to direct me to where you actually live. I’ve got easier ways to know you than physically stalking you.” Licking my lips heavily as my mouth dried at Reece’s casual threat— did that even constitute a threat?— I nodded tentatively. He smiled broadly, pausing to pull his phone out of his pants pocket yet again to frown at the screen. “Apparently, the universe is glad I’m not drunk as fuck right now. The movers are at the storage facility a day early. Speaking of fucking— did Brighton void your contract with El Douchebag?”
“Oh. . . yeah. They kicked him out— said he was banned. That if he came back, he’d end up behind a dumpster. I’m not sure that last part was really necessary, though.”
“You’d be surprised how dramatically people like him lash out when this kind of thing happens. A few years ago, a fem-dom smothered and killed her sub because he reported her for abuse.” My pupils blew at that, my throat tightening as a cold sweat broke out under my long-sleeved shirt. Reece stared at me levelly, and I inhaled a deep, shuddering breath as my face prickled faintly. “If your ex-partner goes after you, call me immediately, Riley. Brighton won’t protect you outside these walls, but I will. Good?”
“G-good, yeah. Yeah, I’d. . . I’d really appreciate that ride, Reece.” I regret this so much. Rolling up the donut bag, I shoveled the rest of mine into my mouth to stand up. I’d been here at Black Cat since they closed last night, and they wouldn’t be open for another few hours. I wanted to go home, but this was the only safe place I knew; I didn’t want to risk Brandon finding out where I lived, either.
Reece was right— he was very much the kind of guy that needed a serious threat, and even that might not be enough.
4
Reece
“You look hungover.” Vanessa frowned at me as I shrugged carelessly, reaching to take off my sunglasses. She ruled New York City with an iron fucking fist and didn’t think twice before shoving it up my ass— and I was not in the mood for that today. “What happened?”
“What do you think happened? I saw my mom, they buried her, and then I went to the lawyer’s office to get all the paperwork and shit. Then, I drove 20 hours back, read through all the stuff, and got stupid drunk until about 8 at night. And before you tell me that’s not very late, I started at, like, 2 in the afternoon.” Grumbling as my own voice rattled my teeth and up to my temples, I pinched the bridge of my nose with a sharp exhale. “What about you? What happened while I was out?”
“Nothing exciting. You’re still combing through Makovich’s visit, right, Reece? I’d rather gossip than do any real work right now, to be honest.” Vanessa’s and my offices were in the same room, so I couldn’t really escape her. Dropping my coat on the back of my chair, I ran my hands up my face and through my hair with a low groan. Up until that brat Mateo went missing, she’d just been a pain in the ass secretary, and I hadn’t had much experience with her.
But Vanessa was a slave driver, demanding as close to perfection as anyone could get. She wasn’t nasty or anything, thankfully. If she was, she’d be truly unbearable.
“I’m sure I’m not the first to say this, but Ivano Makovich is the ultimate elitist. He really came here expecting to be bowed to, but I had to Google him to figure out who he was. According to Illya, the dude’s got a massive golden spoon up his ass. He’s spent so long in near total control of Russia that he thinks it’s the same out here. I heard a rumor from Jerry in Surveillance that his brother got so fed up with it he ran away to Germany the second Ivano left Russian airspace.” Russia was a clusterfuck of unimaginable magnitude, and I sat heavily in my chair to twirl around to face Vanessa. She wasn’t surprised by my rumormongering, her dark eyes glittering to showcase her incredible mind hidden behind them. “What about that woman— Joci? How’s she doing? I know you were told to keep tabs on her.”
“She’s fine.” I flopped my head back to close my eyes and stretch out my legs. I didn’t have nearly as bad a hangover as I expected, which was awesome. Even though the Makovich meetings ended over a month ago, they were such a mess that I hadn’t finished the paperwork, yet. And I had a feeling that today wouldn’t be my golden day.
“You know, Vanessa. . . If Ivano really does want to become Prime Minister of Russia, why take such a roundabout way to do it? Why antagonize Carlyle by requesting those meetings and then being such an asshole? What does he stand to gain by making yet another enemy?” I’m sure everyone involved had been asking themselves those questions since Ivano Makovich left the States. “Why fuck his relationship with his brother— if that rumor is true? Personally, I think it was all supposed to fail. I think it was just supposed to be a show so he could say he was in cahoots with Carlyle, which would give him leverage in itself.”
“That seems to be the running theory, yeah. Carlyle was really pissed that Ivano was jerkin’ his chain for publicity. Our deal with Makovich doesn’t benefit us anymore, so he’s got me doing the numbers to cut them out completely. Darren Willians is open to negotiating. I mean— we own his girlfriend. Literally.” Ah, the other Russian bastard. I was getting sick and damned tired of these people. Carlyle didn’t like Makovich, so why were we still dealing with them? Frustration beat against my brain, and I put my sunglasses back on to hide my aching eyes.
“I miss the Italians— at least their incompetence was funny.” Pursing my lips thinly, I thought back to that incredibly tense discussion between the Santino men. Carlyle was more than happy to let Mateo get whatever he deserved, but the old man overruled him. It was no secret anymore that George Santino was a sociopath, and it was admirable how he went to bat for his younges
t kid.
“Well, we have some downtime, Reece. Makovich’s not supposed to come back until next year. I got the impression that Carlyle wasn’t keen on seeing him again. Especially after what happened after Thanksgiving.” Curiosity thickened my tongue, sticking to the roof of my mouth, and I lifted my head a little as Vanessa leaned eagerly on her elbows. “You didn’t hear? Carlyle demanded Ivano’s other brother— the one that tortured Joci. He said that its only fair since Ivano demanded Carlyle let Joci stay that he makes one of his own.”
“I didn’t know that, no.” She’d never admit it, but Vanessa was a major gossip whore. She was worse than Carlyle’s maids if it was something particularly interesting. Her brown eyes brightened, and I sat up fully to beat back the pounding against my temples.
“Yeah. I guess Ivano just got up and left— like, left, left. As in got on his stupid private plane and went back to Russia the next day, left. At least it was towards the end of his stay.” Oh. So that was the emergency. Honestly, I wasn’t surprised. Ivano Makovich made enemies of people he’d never even met before. That Carlyle would defend someone like Joci, who Ivano saw no worth in, was probably beyond that commie’s ability to comprehend.
I liked her. I thought Joci was really sweet even though she obviously lied every waking second of the day. But that’s why she’s sweet. She didn’t want the people around her to worry. Probably not ask any questions either, but. . .
“. . . Do you think my mom would be proud of me if she knew what I was really involved in?” The question just slipped out of my mouth, and I frowned darkly as Vanessa’s brows rose high in surprise. Waving a hand dismissively, I clenched and released my jaw in the expectant, heavy silence that followed. “I guess. . . now that she’s dead, it really doesn’t matter, does it?”