Safeword (The Decadence Club Book 3)

by Alyssa Clark

  I grimaced. While I had enjoyed the little foray I had with BDSM, I wasn’t eager to explore the different aspects of it. I knew there was so much that fell under the generalized title, some of it I wasn’t willing to consider and the majority of it I doubted that I had the nerve to even ask for it.

  “As interesting as an idea that is,” my voice cracked a little as I spoke, “I think I would prefer to end the series there.”

  There was a long moment of silence, something that set me on edge before she made a noise that seemed to say nothing but disappointment. “I have noticed that you have not renewed your membership for the month. I’m guessing this is due to the fact that you have decided to not return?”

  “There’s not a reason for me to continue it,” I tried to say gently. “The whole reason for my joining was to be supportive of my friend. I’m sure she’ll continue with her membership, but it's not something that I will be able to continue.” I didn’t want to tell her it was because I couldn’t afford it. I was still confused as to how Liz managed to.

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” Ms. Winters actually sounded genuine.

  For some reason, I felt bad. “I’m sorry.” I winced as I tried to think of some way to make her feel better. I never knew what to say in situations like this and I hadn’t had the chance to think of a good excuse. “It’s not me,” was all that came out.

  “What’s not you? Trusting another person with complete control or letting someone get that close?”

  I covered my face with my free hand, wishing I was anywhere but right here having this conversation. “Did he talk to you?” I asked because everything had happened at her club. It would make sense if Michael was going to complain, he’d go to her.

  “He?” She sounded confused now. “Are you talking about Mr. Reed?”

  My stomach knotted up hard. I nodded before remembering we were on the phone. “Yeah.”

  “I haven’t heard anything from Mr. Reed since we made this arrangement. He’s a very private man outside of what he conducts here at the club. As I’m sure you are aware, he and I aren’t on the friendliest of terms. He is a customer, and I deal with him as such.”

  That much had been obvious in the beginning. I was betting that there were power struggles with a lot of her clients. It was something I knew I wouldn’t be able to handle. “So he hasn’t said anything to you?”

  “Is he the reasoning behind the last article?” she asked. There was a curious note to her voice.

  I stood slightly and gave the area around my cube a cautious look, I didn’t want anyone listening in. Not that I thought people did that. I sat down and took a breath then ripped it off like a band-aid. “I didn’t tell him about the articles, and he found them.”

  “Oh,” she sounded shocked.

  “That’s why I thought he would complain.”

  “I mean, Mr. Reed may be within his right to seek legal counsel I would assume. But you were vague enough about who it was that he would have a hard time proving it was him that you were talking about. I can ask Matt just to be sure, though I’m surprised the publisher didn’t say something about it.” Was she trying to reassure me? I listened, intently, taking in her advice. “I doubt that would be something Mr. Reed would really want to tie himself to, just to be honest. Most men that are high profile because of their position in a company have a tendency to downplay any of their fetishes. They don’t advertise what they do or who they see. I know Mr. Reed isn’t the talk of the town often, aside from money magazines, so I highly doubt he would take you to court over something like this.”

  “I hadn’t even thought about that,” I admitted. I was wondering if I should start hyperventilating now or later. “I was just trying to figure out how I was going to move on from here. How do I get back to normal?”

  There was a noise that I couldn’t decipher from her, it didn’t sound angry. Just, sympathetic maybe? “Try finding a new normal.” Her voice was gentle. “If you enjoyed it, it doesn’t mean you have to stop doing it.”

  “It’s not that easy to find someone to be willing to be with me.” Once I started oversharing, I figured I might as well keep going. Why hold back? “I’m surprised I entertained Michael for as long as I did.” My throat began to burn. “I-I just need to let it go. Go back to normal. T-that’s the best course of action for me.”

  “Charlotte.” I could hear the pity in Ms. Winters’ voice now. I couldn’t help the heat that rushed to myself, the shame I felt. “Regardless as to what you see, what you may think, you are a beautiful woman. The fact that you see something other than that is so disheartening. Mr. Reed, Michael, wanted you for a reason. You’re attractive, you’re funny. The only bad thing I can think about just talking about is the complete lack of self-esteem.” The soft tone shifted into something harder. “You just need to realize what you really are worth instead of having such a poor outlook on yourself.”

  “That’s easier said than done.” I was crumpled over my keyboard, letting a phone call get to me. My voice quivered in a way that I didn’t like, but I didn’t have it in me to try to stop it. “You don’t break away from what you’ve known for years like that.”

  “You don’t,” she agreed, and I felt something akin to relief. “But if you aren’t happy as you are and you want to change if you’re lonely … you will make the effort.” Ms. Winters took a breath, “If you decide to change your mind about being a member of the club I will withhold charging you another registration fee. All you will need to do is give me a call, and we will resume regular monthly payments.”

  She went right back to business. I sniffled, and I knew she heard it because, of course, it had to be unfortunately loud. I thanked her after that and ended the call. I didn’t want to be any more vulnerable than I was already. Breaking down at work wasn’t something I liked to do. It was enough to make me rush through the rest of my work, feeling fragile I had all of my other incoming calls directed to voicemail. I would deal with them when I felt stronger.

  I would deal with the consequences of ignoring my phone another time, too.

  19

  My life slowly returned to autopilot. I came to work, I went home, and repeat. I didn’t want to think outside of what was necessary. I didn’t want to dwell on the fact that the arrangement, as messed up as it might have seemed, was a good thing. Having sex on a regular basis, even if it wasn’t normal, was a stress relief on a level that I couldn’t comprehend until I knew I would have to be without it.

  I was going to have to go back to being celibate. That was something to be upset about.

  Simon’s only apparent care was what would come next. Aside from my normal workload, he expected to give him a list of possible articles that I could pursue. I had to give an idea of what it was and then lay out an outline as to where I intended to go with it. It was more stressful than I anticipated and I found myself missing the knowledge that I would have someone to meet at the end of the week to relieve everything.

  “I’m so stupid,” I said aloud as I stared at my screen.

  “If you’re still stuck on affect and effect, I can’t help you,” Liz spoke up from the entrance of my cube. She was leaning against the fragile outer wall and had an inquisitive look on her face. “That’s shit I still struggle with, but that’s no reason to feel stupid.”

  I shook my head, it was an attempt to make me feel better. That much was obvious. “If it was just that I would be fine,” I assured her. “But it's more than just that.”

  “I know, but the only way to feel better about that is to try to reach out to him,” she said it like it made the most sense. “Let him know that you weren’t using him just for the sake of your writing. That you were developing something for him at least. If he’s angry with you, it's obvious that it was more than just sex.”

  “That takes more nerve then I have,” I said quietly, I didn’t want to see her expression at my words either. I could only imagine her disappointment.

  “I guess you’re just going to ha
ve to live with yourself then.” Liz sounded so nonchalant about it. It made my already sore feelings ache more. “The only one in control over this now is you. If you wait around for him to step back up, you’re probably just going to be worse off than you are now.”

  It was with that truth that I found myself composing an extremely long text message that would hopefully win him over. It wasn’t until it was pushing the end of the day that I realized that I spent the vast majority of my time just on that and not on actual work. I ended up staying late, until I was the last one to leave the office.

  I hadn’t even bothered to send the half-finished text. Half-finished because I couldn’t find the gall to send it, so I ended up backspacing through the vast majority of it. Of course, I could have deleted it all out right. But being a chicken wasn’t something I wanted to admit I was, sometimes I liked to pretend I was a stronger person.

  So, I just shoved my phone into my bag on my way out, feeling work-weary and tired. When I got inside my apartment, I made a beeline for the bathroom with the intent of taking a hot shower. Whatever it took to get the day out of my head and find some sort of quiet that I could use for brainstorming. My writing had to be on my own time, and I was okay with that. It's not like I had a social life to keep up with.

  It wasn’t until I was seated on my bed, wrapped in a towel and questioning the point of my existence that the ding of my phone drug me back to reality. I was so worn out I thought it might have been Liz was trying to make another attempt at either giving me courage or getting me to get over the situation I’d created. I pulled my phone out of my bag then unlocked it only to be confronted by what I had done. I had left the text message thread open with my poor attempt to convey a heartfelt apology. At some point during my shoving my phone into my bag and my arrival home the half composed message had been sent.

  I sent it incomplete, and Michael had seen it. And he answered. I choked, not quite able to see his response. Whatever plans I had to get over this had just been ripped to shreds because of this stupid slip of my mind. The message from Michael was a simple one, an address accompanied with a time, seven. I was given just thirty minutes to get dressed and get there.

  ‘I need more time,’ I sent in return. ‘I just got out of the shower.’ I felt the need to explain.

  ‘There’s no need to dress up. Just get here.’

  Really? Was he planning on making an example of me? Was this going to be punishment?

  I hummed as I considered my options. I could go. I could accept that second chance that it might be. Or, I could take the coward’s way out and just go to bed.

  I got up to get dressed. Whatever this might be, I was done being a coward. If this was a punishment, then all I could do was accept it. It was what I deserved. If he didn’t want me anymore, it would be a closure to it all.

  I was going to face it and not hide from it.

  20

  I hadn’t considered the address, whether it was a fancy restaurant that he liked to frequent or not. When I arrived at it, after checking the GPS app on my phone twice, I came to realize it was an apartment building. It was upscale and clean, a far cry from the building I lived in. There were ornate decorations on the corners and edges of the building that drew the eye. The awning wasn’t ripped, in fact, it looked as if it were brand new, nowhere near as weathered as the one that hung a little tattered from my own apartment.

  There was a doorman, too. He stopped me just as I made a break for the door. “Can I help you, ma’am?” He didn’t sound condescending, he just eyed me curiously. It was way too obvious that I didn’t live there.

  I certainly didn’t look the part. I figured, since I was likely going to face some sort of humiliation, that I would come comfortable. My hair was tamed into a frizzy bun at the back of my neck, and I wore my favorite t-shirt: a cat that was stretch out across it and stated ‘I hate mornings’ just underneath it, and a pair of ratty jeans that were perfect for slumming it. I should have known I wouldn’t be able to walk right in.

  “A Mr. Michael Reed lives here?” I hazarded a guess that he lived here, I hoped I wasn’t going to make an ass of myself. “He asked me to see him, and I just got off of work so that’s why I’m not as presentable as I’d like to be.” I waved a hand at myself.

  The doorman gave me a hard look before nodding. “Give me just a moment to verify.” He stepped away and pulled a phone from his pocket. He dialed a number then waited for an answer, then in the most gracious tone informed the person on the other end that I was there. He paused only once to acknowledge me. “What did you say your name was?”

  “Charlie--I mean Charlotte Atkins.” I shifted from foot to foot and tried my best to keep my nerves in check.

  The doorman repeated my name into the phone then immediately apologized for inconveniencing the person on the phone. “Yes, sir,” he said, sounding embarrassed. “I’ll send her right up.” He tucked his phone back into his jacket and looked at me with a grimace before opening the door. “Top floor.”

  I walked into the lobby, trying to keep the courage close. The inside reflected the same upscale look as the outside. The tiled floor looked like marble covered in what might be authentic Persian rugs. I was out of place, I felt it with every step that I took towards the gilded elevators. Fortunately, there weren’t many people in the lobby, just the people that worked in the building. I got an odd look from the woman at the service desk, but she didn’t make a move to stop me.

  It wasn’t terribly late, just past eight o’clock. He didn’t send me any messages after the initial few. I only imagined that he was angry and my being tardy, and that was only going to make matters worse. I swallowed hard as I hit the button for what I assumed was the top floor. I didn’t know what I was getting into. I could only hope it wasn’t for him to tell me what an awful person I was.

  The elevator ride seemed to take forever, and it did nothing for my steadily fraying nerves. When the doors open, I didn’t immediately step off of it. I just took in what had to be considered a foyer. There was a similar style of tile on the floor like there was downstairs that looked just as expensive. It was decorated with a dark wood table that and a flower arrangement that managed to look both simple and elegant.

  I was afraid to leave the elevator on that first impression of what was his apartment. His penthouse apartment. There was still so much that I had no idea about him. And I was making this leap for someone I only knew about purely from sex.

  Was it worth that?

  “If you’re just going to stand there,” Michael’s voice filtered in through the turmoil I was caught up in, “the elevator doors will close, and you’ll go back downstairs. Question is, do you want that?”

  I looked up to see him leaning against the wall the little table was backed up against. He was wearing a light blue button-down that he had rolled up to his elbows and slacks that were a charcoal gray. He looked classy while still appearing to be relaxed. And, oh so, gorgeous.

  He was being reasonable enough. He didn’t sound angry, definitely didn’t look it. All it took was for me to step off the lift and into his apartment.

  The doors started to close while I was busy taking him in, I gasped and stuck out an arm to keep them from closing. That decided, as soon as they shifted back to being wide open, I stepped out into his foyer and took a breath, trying to calm my racing heart. I wasn’t ready to walk away, even if I was trying to find the unraveling courage that had brought me here.

  Regardless, he seemed pleased to see me. Michael stayed where he was, watching me curiously. I tried to formulate something to say. I wished I’d thought of anything ahead of time, but I had been so intent on moving forward that I hadn’t considered anything to say.

  “I’m sorry,” I blurted out. “I didn’t think, I couldn’t. I had gone on the hope that you heard the discussion between me and Ms. Winters in the beginning. That’s why I assumed you asked to help me.” I could feel the heat rushing to my face and shame boiled in my gut. “It was a conve
rsation I couldn’t imagine anyone would want to be a part of. Or that after you heard what I was doing that you would still want to participate in it.”

  “You’re assuming,” he said evenly. “But if you had said something, the worse I could have said was no.”

  I grimaced and decided to focus on the flowers in front of me. “What would you have said?”

  “As long as there’s nothing to say that it was actually me,” he stepped closer to me as he spoke, “then I see no reason to not actually participate in it.” His voice lowered, and he reached up to cup my chin prompting me to look at him. “I wanted you. To the point where I would have agreed to damn near anything.”

  I was caught off guard by that. I wanted to tug away, but he had a firm grip on me. “Why?” It came out in a breath, something I couldn’t restrain.

  I was on edge waiting for Michael’s answer. It was a battle to not get lost in the swirling depths of his eyes. They almost looked silver. “You’re beautiful, and it's a puzzle why you don’t realize it. I’d hoped when I started taking you to dinner that you would give me some sort of clue as to why you’re like this. But no,” he sighed as he let me go and turned away. “If you’re going to stay, come in. Though if you do stay, you’re going to share all the dirty details of why you’re like this. I don’t want to be guessing anymore.” He left me standing in the foyer, and I heard him go; the padding of bare feet almost like a beaconing noise for me to follow.