by L. DuBois
“We’re not looking for anyone. He probably won’t come. It was just something we said in passing.”
With every minute that passed, Autumn felt a little stupider for coming here. The hunting-lodge themed whiskey bar was her local hangout, since her downtown LA condo was up on the twenty-seventh floor of this same building. She’d spent the day in her pajamas, studiously not thinking about Daniel. She’d planned to keep that going right through the night, but as the sun set she’d gotten antsy with the need to do something.
What bar would we have met at?
His question ran on a loop through her brain as she showered, did her hair, and put on her best jeans and a black stretchy top with a deep V and ruched detailing on the sleeves. Jeans and a cute top was the universal going out standard in L.A.
She’d been about to order a car to take her out to Santa Monica when some semblance of sanity returned. She wasn’t going to go sit alone in the rooftop bar at the Bungalow, hoping he’d show up. That wasn’t romantic, it was somewhere between pathetic and stalker.
Instead she’d called Summer, who’d still been at work in East L.A. Summer jumped on the gold line train and met her upstairs at her condo, where she’d borrowed a cute top to go with the jeans she was already wearing. Then, arm in arm, they’d taken the elevator down to the second floor of the building, passing out of the private residences’ lobby and into the small landing where a faux log-cabin door marked the entrance to the bar.
While they sipped their first drink, Autumn had told Summer about Daniel. Not all of it, but enough. She’d met a man at that secret club she belonged to—the one Summer thought was some sort of finance world power broker hangout. They’d hit it off, talked, but not exchanged numbers, because that was frowned upon in the club. Summer had made a weird face at that, but hadn’t called her out, so Autumn kept up the lie, saying that though they hadn’t exchanged information, she’d told Daniel about her two favorite bars.
Summer had been all for splitting up, one of them going to the other bar which was a few streets over in the basement of what used to be a bank. Now people could sip drinks while sitting in the old vault. Autumn had shut that shit down, because she felt stupid enough already. Having to sit here by herself, while Summer was at the other place, would only make it worse.
“I could send John to the Bungalow.”
Summer’s fiance had good-naturedly told them to have a fun time and for Summer to call him when she was ready for a ride home.
“How would John know who to look for?” Autumn asked.
“He could take pictures of everyone in the bar and send them to us.”
“Well that sounds like a really good way to be super creepy and get thrown out of the bar and possibly arrested.”
“Hmm, probably true. Anyway, what does he look like again?”
“Brown hair, light colored eyes. Nice suit. Really sharp, looks very…in control.”
“Nice smile?” Summer asked.
“The best smile,” Autumn sighed.
“Okay then,” Summer picked up her phone and started to scoot out from behind their little table.
“What are you doing?”
“Calling John. There’s a sharply dressed man with a killer smile headed this way.”
Autumn’s heart stopped. She widened her eyes at her friend, who stopped scooting. Summer cast a critical eye over her, then reached out, grabbed the front of Autumn’s shirt, and yanked it down several inches. Autumn’s cleavage was now fully on display center stage.
“Summer,” Autumn hissed.
“Get ready,” her friend murmured.
“Hello.”
She’d convinced herself, during her pajama-clad lounging, that their chemistry had probably just been a product of the combination of attraction and predisposition towards sexual arousal due to the setting.
But one word, uttered in that wonderful voice, wiped away all the justifications and explanations she’d come up with.
Autumn took a breath and turned in her seat.
Daniel looked elegant and dangerous, when he should have looked stuffy in the three-piece suit. His jacket and the bottom button of his waistcoat were undone, and he had one hand in his pocket, pulling that side of the jacket back.
She looked up, met his gaze, and knew that she was looking into the eyes of a man, maybe the only man, who could make her truly, deeply happy.
The moment seemed to last forever, or maybe time stood still for them.
Summer, grinning like an idiot, finished sliding away—after not so subtly taking a picture of Daniel. “Just in case I need to be able to give the police a lead,” she said as she sauntered off.
Daniel’s smile widened into a grin. “Friend?”
“Best friend. She came to wait with me.”
“Oh? And who were you waiting for?” He held out a hand. “I’m Daniel, by the way.”
Ahh, okay. This was how they were doing it. She shook his hand, “Autumn.”
“Can I buy you a drink?”
“I have one.” She lifted her nearly full glass. “Can I buy you one?”
He didn’t balk or look offended or pull any other stupid toxic masculine bullshit. “Yes, thank you.”
“What would you like?” Autumn managed to catch the eye of one of the servers.
He ordered a whiskey sour from the server, who headed for the bar, leaving them alone together.
“You know,” Daniel said after a moment. “This is the third bar I’ve been to tonight.”
Autumn let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “That’s funny. I was having trouble deciding which bar I should go to. There were three possibilities.”
“Did you go to all of them?”
“No, I thought maybe I should just stay here and wait.”
“Shall I do a clichéd pickup line about how you must have been waiting for me?” His words said one thing, but his expression…it was tentative. He wanted to make sure she was here waiting for him.
“No clichés. I think you’re…we’re better than that.”
“You’re right. We are.”
The server delivered his drink, and Daniel raised it. “A toast.”
“What are we toasting to?” She picked up her own glass.
“To…meeting in bars.”
They each took a sip, setting their glasses down almost in sync. Daniel scooted over, so he was sitting in the corner of the padded bench area. He stretched his arms out along the top of the bench seating. She thought she felt his fingers brush against her hair, a touch so feather light she couldn’t be sure it was real.
No more pretending.
Autumn slid over, cuddling against Daniel’s side. His arm dropped down to encircle her. Holding her close.
“Hi,” she whispered.
“Hi,” he replied, just as quietly.
“I thought it was crazy of me to do this. To come here in case you came looking for me.”
“I was going crazy worrying that we’d miss each other by hopping from place to place. It would be like a scene from a movie, I’d walk in minutes after you left.”
“We really should have exchanged numbers.”
“Maybe, but maybe you weren’t ready for that yesterday.” He shifted, easing her away enough so that he could look down at her. “Maybe you weren’t ready, because you’d opened yourself up. You told me your secret, and about your past.” He took a deep breath. “I didn’t reciprocate.”
She’d expected him to. Had sat quietly on his lap for half an hour, assuming he was going to start talking. The fact that he hadn’t shared anything personal with her, after she’d shared so much with him, had hurt, but by that point she’d been emotionally wrung out enough that she hadn’t had the energy to get really upset.
But it had made it easier to call a halt to their time together.
“I noticed.”
“And I noticed you noticing.” He licked his lips, seeming nervous. No, not nervous…wary. “My past, at least within the club, isn’t som
ething I talk about.”
“‘At least within the club’? That sounds a bit ominous.”
He looked around, at the bar that was getting louder by the minute as it approached 9p.m. and more people poured in.
“Too loud in here?” she asked.
“No, it will be fine.”
“Because I live upstairs.” She pointed at the ceiling.
He arched a brow. “Are you inviting me up?”
“Yes.”
Chapter 16
Twenty minutes later, Daniel watched as she used her thumbprint to unlock her front door. They were in the heart of downtown L.A., so he should have figured that any residence in the high rise would be state of the art. The building was mixed use, and according to the signage, housed two floors of retail and commercial establishments, including the bar, several law offices, as well as design and accounting firms.
An entirely separate bank of elevators serviced the residences, and in the elevator a live security screen showed a guard, who greeted Autumn by name—Ms. Herrera—and then asked for her guest’s name.
He’d given it, watched as the guard typed it in. Daniel was pretty damned sure that a still of his face was being catalogued for security records.
When they left the elevator, Daniel cleared his throat. “You know, I’ve been in high security government buildings that probably had worse security than your elevator.”
“It’s a bit over the top, but it’s nice to know that if I’m ever hideously murdered, they’ll have plenty of leads.”
She opened the door and lights clicked on automatically. She took off her wrist clutch, placing it on an all glass table by the door.
“Should I be worried that it’s the second time tonight someone has taken my picture for a potential Dateline special?”
“If you say ‘not all men’…”
“I would never.” He followed her from the foyer with its honey wood flooring, white walls, glass table with a green glass key bowl, into a massive open-concept living space. A floor to ceiling glass wall showed a panoramic view of downtown, the buildings creating great steel and glass valleys. Beyond those the city spread, glittering gold and white at night.
Daniel whistled. He was highly successful, and had more money than he’d ever dreamed of, but he could still be impressed. This condo was probably worth as much as his house on the canals in Venice.
“Would you like a glass of wine?” Autumn walked behind the massive kitchen island, which had to be twenty feet long. “Or something stronger?”
“Not yet, I’d like to talk first.”
She braced her hands on the counter. “That sounds a little ominous.”
He took his suit jacket off, draping it over the back of one of the half dozen chairs that lined the living room side of the island. “I didn’t mean it to, but you have the right to hear about my past, and…” He steeled himself. “My secret, before this progresses.”
“This.” She pressed her lips together, then pushed off the counter. She tapped one of the narrow white panels that covered the wall at the end of the kitchen. It went from opaque to transparent, revealing a massive wine fridge. She pushed on it and the door popped open, allowing her to select a bottle. Reaching into a drawer in the island, she took out a small wood box. He went around the end of the island, and without a word she handed him the box while she went for a glass. As he’d expected, the box held a wine set. He opened her bottle of Riesling. When she set a delicate long-stemmed white wine glass on the counter, he poured her a generous glass, then capped the wine with the stopper from the box.
She led the way to a set of curved chaise lounges positioned to take advantage of the view. Autumn placed her glass on the floor with a click before taking a seat and reaching for the zip on the inside of her gray boots.
Daniel took a knee and unzipped them for her, easing first her boot, and then the thin black socks she wore, off of her feet. He’d seen her barefoot. He’d seen her naked. But there was something very intimate and vulnerable about removing her shoes here in her own home.
Impulsively, he cupped her heel, then leaned down to kiss the top of her foot.
“I thought you wanted to tell me your secrets before this progressed?” Her question was soft, not accusatory.
Daniel released her foot, resting his forehead against her knee. “I did. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have touched you, but…”
“I like it when you touch me. It terrifies me, but…”
She let her words trail off, matching what he said. Her fingers slid through his hair, gently scratching his scalp. If he’d been a cat he would have purred.
“It terrifies me that you’re here,” she went on. “I promised myself I would never mix the two sides of my life. I tried it, twice. Didn’t work. It’s why I didn’t want to scene with you.” Her voice turned wry. “Because you seemed like…whoops, I mean you are…the kind of guy I’d bring home from the bar.”
“And I’m…a dangerous liar.”
Her hand stilled in his hair. Daniel lifted his head from her lap, pushing slowly to his feet and then dropping onto the other chaise.
“What do you mean you’re a liar?” Her gaze was hard, sharp.
“Let me clarify. I never told you a lie.”
She reached down for her glass, tapping it against her lip before she took a sip.
“I’m a liar because…because this, all of this?” He gestured to himself. “This is all a facade. I dress the part. I have the house. But my past, and my genetics...”
“Seriously?” Autumn’s shoulders sagged with relief. “I thought you were going to tell me that you’re an undercover federal agent. Not that you suffer from imposter syndrome or have shitty parents.”
“I’m sorry, you were worried I was a what?” Daniel just stared at her
“An undercover agent.”
“In a BDSM club? Why in the world would you think that? Is that even a thing?”
“I maybe read too many Lexi Blake books. Anyway, ignore that. Go on.”
He opened his mouth, closed it. Then shook his head. Strangely, that weird little byplay made him feel better.
Right then he knew, just knew, that nothing he could tell her, except, apparently, that he was an undercover agent, would make her think less of him. Though they were so very different, they were the same, both scared to trust, afraid.
“I think I’m falling in love with you.” It wasn’t what he’d meant to say. He was supposed to be walking her through his fucked up childhood. That didn’t seem as important right now as it had when they walked in.
Autumn froze, eyes wide.
“I don’t expect you to say anything back. I don’t expect…well anything. It just felt important that I tell you.”
“You jerk,” she breathed, but she was smiling. “I’m working very hard on not falling for you, and you go and say something like that?”
Hope made him smile, but a nasty voice in his head told him that he was wrong. That when he told her about his past, realized where his sadistic tendencies came from, she’d throw him out.
“And before you go any further, you should know that this is new for me, too. I don’t come from money. My great-grandparents were migrant workers, and I grew up lower middle class. My grandmother is convinced I must be a criminal—a very successful one.” Autumn shrugged. “I mean she’s still proud of me for being successful, even if it’s a successful bad guy.”
“Your family sounds fun.”
Autumn studied him. “I’m guessing yours isn’t?”
He opened his mouth, then shook his head. He wasn’t quite ready. “I had an idea, for how we get around your issue of not wanting to tell men you date that you’re a sub.”
“Is it date a Dom?” she asked dryly.
“That would work, but I had another idea.”
“This conversation has gone so far off the rails.” She took a sip…no, that was a gulp…of wine.
“It’s because I’m stalling,” he acknowledged.
/> “Daniel, we only met yesterday. It’s okay if you want to wait to tell me whatever it is.”
“No. Waiting won’t make it any easier.”
“All right, then.” She settled back in the chaise. “I’ll just sit here and drink wine. Take your time.”
That made him smile. It was so damn easy to talk to her.
And suddenly the words were there.
“BDSM is how, and where, I channel my need for control,” he said. “Before I found BDSM, well, and to be fair before my years of therapy, I had to be in control. I had to. I grew up with…with no control, so as an adult I swung the other way.”
She watched him with compassion, but no pity. “I’m sorry, that must have been hard.”
“I don’t mean that I just had a chaotic childhood.” Time to take the plunge. “I actually grew up in a cult, living in an isolated compound.”
“Holy shit. Daniel, are you serious?”
“Yep. My mom joined the cult when she was nineteen. I was born there. My father was probably the cult leader—he called himself ‘the apostle.’ His thing was that the cult was a church. His church. And they were the only true christians.”
“How original.”
“It gets better. He ‘married’ most of the women, and girls, at one point or another. Marriages that lasted only for as long as he wanted to fuck them. There were other men, all older, living there, but I’m pretty sure he was my father, and the father of most of the other kids born into the cult.”
“Daniel…” Autumn scooted forward, so she was sitting on the end of her chaise, close enough to reach him.
“He used them, the kids, to manipulate and control the women. Some weeks children were pampered and loved, the next used as literal whipping boys to keep the adults in line. Some weeks they had school every day, the next there was no school at all, and the week after that they were forced to study twenty hours a day.
“The children slept in different places each night, depending on his whims. Sometimes inside, but on the floor with no blankets, sometimes in lovely soft beds. On bad nights, the kids were locked out of all the homes. Mothers would look out the windows at their children, but they never opened the doors. Not if he said they couldn’t.”