The Dungeon Fantasy Club

by Anya Summers

  "Cut the crap, Ethan. Or did you forget that I walked in on you having sex with Greta?"

  "Listen up, you fat cow. You will do exactly what I tell you to do, or I will make sure everyone knows that the little opera angel likes her sex on the rougher side."

  His vitriolic words stung. No matter how much stronger she felt, they rattled her composure and it took everything she had inside her not to crawl back into the space where she believed those hateful words. Finding her courage, she steeled herself and said, "It's not like anyone will believe you. Not when I let slip why I broke off our relationship in the first place."

  His laugh, which at one time had made her think of sunshine, sent tremors of unease whipping through her body. "Actually, they will, when a certain sex tape is anonymously released to the press."

  Delilah's world came to a blinding, shuddering halt.

  "What?" Fear unlike anything she'd ever known rattled her core. He couldn't be serious. Surely she'd heard him incorrectly. She had never been filmed.

  "See it for yourself. Check your email. I'll call you back in ten minutes so you can digest this bit of news, and we will discuss exactly how things are going to proceed from here on out."

  In a blind panic, Delilah scurried away from the reception, all but running to the elevator. She took it up to Declan's office. She was sure he wouldn't mind her using his computer. Once inside, she logged in as a guest to his computer, thankful her password was still valid.

  She opened her email account and her heart shattered. He'd taped them. Ethan had taped one of their scenes. She was writhing and moaning loudly on all fours as he caned her, all while she was strapped to a fucking machine. Her moans of ecstasy were rising as the dildo thrust inside her. The scene deteriorated before her eyes as he finished with her discipline. And then he proceeded to stuff his cock into her mouth while the machine plunged inside her sex.

  Horrified, Delilah wasn't sure she would ever breathe again. Her phone rang once more, and she answered on autopilot. How could she have been so stupid to ever trust him? Why was he doing this to her? What had she ever done to deserve being treated with such callous disregard? She bit back her sob. Her mom would probably say if only she'd lose twenty pounds, this never would have happened.

  "Now listen up, you will meet me in Paris in two days' time. We will discuss in detail how you are going to tell the opera world you made a mistake in firing me. If you don't do this, if you aren't there, I have copies of this tape ready to disperse to every news outlet on the globe. Your career will be over. Understood?" Ethan said.

  He would do it, too. There was no doubt in her mind he would make good on his threat. She'd watched him one too many times with other people, watched him seek revenge whenever he'd felt slighted. Why it hadn't even occurred to her that he might do something similar to her, made her feel like the dumbest person alive.

  "Did you hear me?"

  She saw her life, her choices, swept away in a single swipe. He'd make it so that she was no more than a marionette on strings, directing her life and not allowing her freedom of any kind. Her heart tumbled into an abyss so deep and dark, she didn't think she would ever be able to retrieve it.

  "Yes. Tell me where and I will be there."

  "I'll text you the information. Oh, and Delilah, don't tell anyone or I'll leak it to the press. This is between you and me, understood?" Ethan ordered, his voice calm with his assured victory.

  "Yes." She felt dead inside.

  "Happy New Year." He chortled as he disconnected the line.

  Delilah left Declan's office feeling like a bomb had gone off inside her chest. All the warmth, all the hope she'd begun to feel had been erased with a single call. She didn't even go back to the reception. She couldn't be around so many happy people when it felt like her world was caving in.

  In her room, she practically ripped her dress off, changing into the most comfortable clothes she'd thought to pack, and began collecting her things from the bathroom. She was running. Again. But she didn't care. She had to leave this place before anyone could stop her or she'd crumble.

  She was on the phone, booking a cab to ferret her away from the manor tonight, when there was a knock on the door.

  "Your driver will be there within the hour, Miss Gregory. Is there anything else I can do to assist you this evening?" the sweet, heavily accented voice said through her receiver.

  "No, thank you," she replied dully.

  "Very well, miss. Happy New Year, and thank you for selecting Scots Limos International to serve you."

  "Umhumm, you too," she said as she opened the door.

  Bastian stood on the opposite side, his face a mask of concern. He studied her appearance, taking note of the clothing change.

  "What can I do for you, Bastian?"

  "What's going on, Delilah? You left the ballroom and didn't say anything."

  "I decided it wasn't for me." Her voice came out harsher than she'd intended but she squelched any softer feelings or remorse. It had to be done this way. She was out of options.

  "What wasn't?" he asked.

  "Our little arrangement. I had fun, don't get me wrong, but it was getting far too serious for my tastes. I don't want to lead you on or give you the wrong impression. I don't want you to be my Dom, Bastian. I'm sorry but I will never wear your cuffs. I got swept up in the wedding madness for a bit, was all."

  "I see. So you were faking it all week?"

  "Pretty much." Lies, lies, lies. But she had to do it. It was the only way she could protect him. She couldn't let Ethan get his hooks into him, or any of the people she loved. He already had far too much control as it was.

  "Bullshit. I don't buy that. Not after everything—"

  She bluffed and schooled her features as she cut him off. "It was fun. Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed the sex, stud, but that's all it could ever be between us."

  He flinched and then covered it with a stern mask as he narrowed his gaze. "I see."

  "If you don't mind, my ride to the airport will be here shortly."

  "You're leaving tonight?" he accused her, with a stony expression devoid of any tender feelings he'd shown her hours before. It devastated her. Having him look at her with so much distance in his eyes—that she'd put there.

  "Yes. I have no reason to stay." Her heart squeezed.

  "Best of luck to you." He tipped his head in a sardonic salute and stormed away. She couldn't watch him walk away or she'd call him back.

  Delilah shut the door, feeling the heart she had very much questioned and thought would never see light again break into ragged pieces. She covered her mouth with her hands to try and contain the sob. She'd been so cruel, but she knew if she'd been anything less than that, he would have pressed her. The man was relentless when he wanted something.

  Delilah kept herself from going after him, wishing like hell she could explain, that she could have him hold her one more time. Except she knew if she involved anyone, Ethan would make good on his promise and deliver the tape to the media. She could withstand the scrutiny and potential damage to her career. Delilah had made more than enough money, had invested smartly with Declan's advice, so she didn't have to worry about making a living. So if her career was over, so be it. That was not why she'd cut Bastian out. It was the threat of exposure for Declan and all of her friends in the DFC. She had to protect them. Her connection to the club could endanger them all. She couldn't risk all those she loved for the sake of her own happiness.

  As much as she wanted to tell Ethan to piss off and withstand whatever destruction she might face, she couldn't let him taint the one place she'd always felt like she could be herself.

  Swallowing her sobs, her disappointment, and even her love for Bastian, Delilah finished packing, and in the dead of night, left the manor house without a backward glance.

  Chapter 13

  "Get up, man. Don't make me drag you out of bed."

  Bastian snarled as he came to. Everything hurt. There wasn't a part of his body that did
n't ache. "Get the fuck out of my room."

  "Christ, man, Delilah is in trouble and you want to lie about all day, be my guest."

  That had him blinking back the blinding sunshine. He glared at Jared. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

  Not that it mattered to him in the slightest, or at least, it shouldn't matter after everything she'd said to him the night before. As it was, he was hip deep in love with the songbird, and if she needed help… Fuck.

  "I can't tell you, you have to see it for yourself. Get up and follow me to Declan's office."

  Bastian stumbled out of bed. His head pounded and his mouth was thick with the amount of scotch he'd imbibed after Delilah had ended things between them last night. Shoving his legs into the pair of jeans Jared tossed his way, he grabbed a shirt and followed Jared out of the room, not even bothering with shoes.

  "You can't give me any inkling of what kind of trouble she is in? Was she hurt? Did she have an accident?" His heart almost stopped at the thought of her being injured or worse.

  "Relax, she's not hurt physically, that we are aware of, but you're not going to like it."

  At Jared's cryptic reply, dread settled in the pit of his stomach. Or it could just be the scotch on a campaign to incinerate his innards. Neither option was better than the other. He knew though, that for Jared and Declan to be involved like this meant it was bad.

  Christ!

  Jared didn't knock at Declan's office door, he just pushed his way inside, expecting Bastian to follow. He did and was brought up short. Declan stood behind his desk with Will Evans sitting in his seat. Will's fingers were tapping against the computer keyboard in a flurry of strokes.

  "I'm in."

  "Good. See what you can dig up on this end. I have a PI I use for things like this," Theo Brown said, pulling out his cell.

  His brain still muddled, Bastian said, "What the hell is going on?"

  Declan shot him a glance. "Come see for yourself. I thought it was odd when Delilah left last night without saying goodbye in person, and it seems my feelings weren't that far off base. She's being blackmailed."

  She was being what? Bastian strode over to Declan's desk and rounded it until he could get a good look at the computer screen. At first his brain didn't compute what it was looking at. He rubbed the hangover from his eyes as best he could and focused on the screen.

  "What am I looking for?"

  "Here. I will warn you, it's pretty graphic." Will hit a few keystrokes and a video popped up on the screen.

  "Jared saw her on the phone outside the ballroom last night looking less than pleased. He mentioned it to me in passing, and when I received her text saying she'd had to leave, I figured there was a family emergency, and was going to contact her in the next day or so to make sure everything was all right. Then I put it out of my mind and thought nothing of it until I stopped by here this morning," Declan explained.

  It took Bastian's befuddled, hungover brain a few minutes to comprehend what it was he was watching. At first he thought it was a porn video, until the woman in it moved her head, and then his breath stopped in his chest. It was Delilah, being rather vigorously caned, while a fucking machine plunged a dildo inside her pussy.

  Rage filled his soul. This wasn't an emergency. This was Delilah having a good time. There was a lot of that going on with her, apparently.

  "Why do think that she's blackmailed? It looks to me like the little songbird made a sex tape. So what?" He shrugged his shoulders, attempting to alleviate the pressure in his chest. He averted his eyes from the video, unable to watch the spectacle.

  Declan gave him a level glare. "I've known Delilah a long time. She never would have given her consent to be filmed. She forgot to close out of the video before she left my office. I'm assuming it was out of shock. I did a little digging before I called Will and came across the email she'd been sent with the video attachment. Take a look, and then tell me she's not being blackmailed."

  Will hit another key, bringing the email up for his viewing.

  As Bastian read the email, he felt physically ill.

  Delilah, if you do not do exactly as I instruct you to, this video of our little scene will go public. I have it primed and ready to go out to all the news media with a click of a button should you fail to comply. Do not disappoint me. Ethan

  "Her ex," Bastian snarled. Son of a bitch! When he got his hands on that bastard he'd never walk again.

  "What do you know about her ex?" he asked Declan.

  "She never talked about him much, and he's not a member of the DFC. He never even approached me about becoming a member. I do know he's a Dom, or at least played one with Delilah. After seeing this, I'm starting to wonder how much was real and what was a sham."

  "When was this opened on the computer, Will? Can you tell me that?" Bastian had to know.

  "Sure." Will hit a few more keys and said, "A little bit before midnight."

  Christ! She'd gotten the call and must have come in here straight away. He had wondered, after he had sulked and raged for a bit last night, about her one-eighty mood swing. But he'd been too angry and hurt to think clearly before he'd started downing scotch. He knew her, and the words she'd spoken must have been prompted by the video and email. Had to be. And at the end of the day, even if they weren't, he loved her too much to leave her defenseless against such a shark.

  "What are we going to do? We have to help her." And maybe if he saved her, he could convince her to love him back, even just a little.

  Declan gave him an approving nod. "That's what I hoped you'd say. Here's what we are planning so far. Theo is going to enlist Owen Kade to investigate Ethan and see what he can dig up. Will's graciously offered to hack into Ethan's email accounts and see what he can find there. He's already found a confirmation email in Delilah's account for a hotel in Paris."

  "Then I'll go to Paris."

  "Not alone. She's one of ours," Jared murmured.

  "I'll come with you guys. You'll want to make him hand over any copies he has, and the only way to be sure is to have someone with my skillset. I've already sent the files I need from Delilah's account to my laptop, and can work on the go," Will interceded.

  Bastian didn't know Will very well, but he liked him on principle alone. "My bandmates will make the trip as well. I'd rather have all the backup necessary."

  "Agreed," Declan said. "I would go with you if I could. Zoey and I leave for our honeymoon in the morning, but I will do what I can from here until we leave. I would rather keep this contained to as few people as possible. Zoey already knows but I think its best, for Delilah's sake and the sake of the DFC, if we keep it contained as possible."

  "Owen's game. He already received the intel you sent him, Will," Theo Brown added. "I will stay here and contact you with any updates from him."

  Bastian had never felt such helpless rage in his life as they plotted a course to extricate Delilah from her ex. If only she had trusted him with the truth.

  Chapter 14

  The green awning for Au Petit Sud-Ouest came into view with its distinctive wooden framed windows, as the rest of the buildings lining the street were a whitewashed gray stone with clean lines. The tree-lined street was immensely popular with tourists flocking to the Eiffel Tower so nearby. The air was crisp with freezing temperatures and she pulled her red pea coat tighter. Resignation shrouded Delilah like a black cloak.

  She couldn't begin to understand why Ethan had filmed her that way, filmed them. It struck at the very heart of how untrustworthy he'd actually been during the length of their relationship. All her life she'd tried to be what everyone else had wanted her to be, and look where it had gotten her. She wanted it over with, this meeting with Ethan. She steeled herself for the upcoming battle. More resolved than anything, Delilah's footsteps faltered a bit when she walked in and spied Ethan at one of the back tables.

  "Bonjour! Comment je peux vous aider?" the young maître d' asked. He looked to be in his mid-twenties.

  "Parlez-vous A
nglais?" she said.

  "Oui. How may I help you?"

  "I see my party seated over there." She pointed toward Ethan, who waved her over.

  "Yes, mademoiselle. Go on in. Enjoy."

  "Merci," she thanked him and thought, not bloody likely. She'd rather get something waxed than sit through this upcoming meeting.

  Her career, the people she cared most about in this world, everything in her life, hinged on this moment. Except she couldn't give a rat's ass about her career anymore. She'd do what Ethan wanted; protect the DFC as best she could for as long as she could. Nothing else mattered. The biggest loss out of all of it was that she had mucked up her fledgling relationship with Bastian. He'd never agree to see her again, and she didn't blame him one iota. It was ironic that with the moment upon her, and the potential to lose everything, she'd come to realize she'd already lost the only thing that mattered.

  Bastian.

  She plastered a firm mask on her face, not willing to show Ethan that his actions held any sway over her any longer.

  He stood, his slender build and stature—which she'd always found attractive, or at least, had put filters over her eyes—suddenly completely removed. Now she saw him for what he really was, a rotten weasel. She'd never noticed until now how much his face looked like one, too, with his narrow face and black eyes, his thin lips which compressed into a frown when she side-stepped his attempt to embrace her. The last thing she ever wanted was his hands anywhere near her body ever again.

  "It's about time you showed up. I was beginning to think I'd have to make good on my promises."

  "Ethan, I can't say that it's good to see you. Can we please get this meeting over with?" She took a seat in one of the chairs opposite him. At any other time, she would have been charmed by this restaurant, with its brick walls, quaint tables covered with soft, salmon-colored table linens, extensive wine list, and delicious smells filtering into the dining area from the kitchen.

  The waiter chose that moment to attend to their table.