by Avery Gale
*****
Lara felt like she was going to pass out. She’d never been this nervous before a job interview. But you’ve never been interviewed for a day job by someone who’s seen you naked, either. Oh God, now I’m talking to myself. This can’t possibly end well. Master Cameron will probably drop a net over me and have me locked in a padded cell in the dungeon. Is there one down there? She took a deep breath trying to banish all the crazy talk floating through her head.
She’d been on pins and needles since she’d received the call yesterday from the agency. And then when they’d called again this morning moving the interview up, she’d nearly panicked because she’d already been at the deli downstairs working. Sure, Master C had chosen her work uniform, so it probably wouldn’t make any difference but, holy shit Sherlock, it seemed beyond weird to be interviewing in a bustier and fishnet stockings. Even if the outfit did cinch in her waist so she looked like some old time movie maven, and offer up her breasts in a way that was almost impossible to ignore, it wasn’t anything even close to business attire. Damn it all, the skimpy cups barely covered her nipples, and there had been several occasions when she’d been so busy she hadn’t even realized “the girls” were actually playing unencumbered on top of the lacey cups. And her skirt was so short her ass cheeks were visible—her very bare ass, since every Master in the club seemed to have some sort of strange hatred of undergarments. Don’t they know that walking around in public without anything covering your girly bits is breezy? Damn, this place is right at the water’s edge and that fucking gulf wind blows right up where it isn’t welcome.
Lara knew she could change here at the club, but that would mean taking time to plan ahead, including packing a small bag and then remembering to bring it along. Sighing, she shook her head, it seemed like she was always running from one part-time job to the next like a chicken with her head cut off. It was a rare day when she had time to do any more than sprint into her tiny apartment, change clothes, and run back out the door. Half the time she didn’t have what she needed with her—she’d actually started clipping notes to the outside of her purse for God’s sake, how pathetic was that? Lord of all things logical, she needed a keeper.
Countless nanny and personal assistant positions had been open at the agency during the past year and she’d applied for each one and never even gotten an interview. The employment specialist she’d been assigned to hadn’t bothered sugarcoating her explanation—Lara’s personal appearance was the problem. Oh, it wasn’t that she had a third eye in the middle of her forehead or that she was Martian green. No, this was an entirely different sort of prejudice. Expectant mothers took one look at her photo and moved her portfolio directly into the “never going to happen” stack.
At five foot five inches tall and one thirty, Lara had an hourglass shape that she worked hard to maintain, mostly because she really enjoyed food and found it easier to workout than give up any of her favorite treats. Her blond hair fell to her waist in soft waves that refused to be tamed despite all of her attempts to bring it under control. It unnerved her that strangers would often reach out and touch her hair—they always had the same glazed over expression as if it had just magically drawn them in—it was very odd if you asked her. Lara had been blessed with her mother’s flaxen hair and blue eyes, but her dad’s South American skin tone. She always looked as if she’d just returned from the Caribbean and her perpetual tan had boosted her confidence when she’d started playing at Dark Desires. The other subs at the club had teasingly complained that she had been overly blessed by the “looks fairy”. When she’d insisted it was a double-edged sword one night during a movie marathon, they’d peppered her with popcorn, boos, and hisses. It had ended up being an all-out food fight that had taken them over an hour to clean up at the end of the evening.
Her caseworker at the employment agency had referred to herself as a “voice of decency” when she’d warned Lara that her part-time position in “that den of inequity” would likely keep her from ever getting a good position. For an old bat with such a hang up about sex, she sure uses the word position a lot. Sighing, Lara felt as if she were caught between the proverbial rock and hard place. The friends she’d made at Dark Desires were the closest thing she had to family now that her parents were once again living on the other side of the globe. You should be grateful they stayed stateside as long as they did. Lara’s missionary parents had honored their promise to her and stayed in Sealy until she’d completed high school, but they’d returned to the mission field the week after enrolling her in college. Giving up her job at the club’s small eatery would mean giving up the only support system she had, it was an option she’d sworn she wouldn’t consider, but recently she’d started to wonder if she wasn’t painting herself further and further into a corner. And to be honest, she was getting awfully tired of eating macaroni and cheese.
When she’d gotten the call yesterday informing her she’d been chosen to interview for a position, she’d been too excited to ask who the employer was. Then this morning, the woman Lara thought of as Ms. Screech called to say the client wanted her to meet him at his office in two hours and then recited the club’s address.
Lara had nearly dropped the phone when she’d been give Cameron Barnes’ name as her contact. At first she’d been thrilled because she’d known her boss certainly wasn’t going to look down on her because of her part-time job in his deli. But then she’d realized what she was wearing—and her excitement had waned considerably. And holy hellacious hairballs, being interviewed by someone who had seen you naked…and being flogged…and screaming the walls down when you came? Nope, nothing intimidating about that!
“Fuck me, I’m going to wear a hole in this rug if I don’t stop. It’ll be okay. It’s just Master C. Nothing to worry over. Worry doesn’t alter outcomes.” Lara hadn’t thought twice about speaking out loud, after living alone for so long she’d gotten used to giving herself pep talks. “It’s not like a crazy lady who talks to herself is going to exactly stand out as odd in my neighborhood anyway. Nope, I’d have to step up my crazy-game several notches to even make the B-team on my block.”
“Well, darlin’, I’m definitely interested in fucking you, but we are going to be having a long chat about your neighborhood first.” Lara froze. Her entire body always reacted to that voice. No. Not now. Please. She didn’t know why in heaven’s name her guardian angel was always on break when she managed to get herself into these pickles. Turning slowly, her eyes rested on a man that looked like Fischer, but was just a little older if she was to guess. He sounded just like Fischer, perhaps just a hint more subtly in his tone, but they were definitely cut from the same cloth. This man’s hair was a bit darker, but his eyes were the same shade, somewhere between turquoise and green. She stood perfectly still, watching, waiting. Everything about him told her he was a Dom, but there was a gentleness about him that called to her. She’d often thought Fischer had the face of an angel, but this man looked like he’d seen too much—this man was a wounded angel. There was a sadness in his spirit she was sure most people didn’t see because they probably failed to look beyond the gorgeous exterior. Fuckidy-fuck. I so do not need this right now. I wait a year to get an interview. Then it turns out to be with my current boss, a man who knows more about me than my gynecologist, and then fate drops an angel in the room just in time to hear me chattering to myself like I’ve got bats in my belfry. Seems I’ve been promoted from hot mess to walking disaster. Go me!
*****
Peter had been listening to his brother moon over a sub at Dark Desires for the better part of a year, but had yet to make the trip to the suburban Houston club to meet her for himself. He’d known Fischer was thrilled to learn they would be working together until the threat against Dr. Cecelia Barnes had been neutralized and suddenly Peter understood why. After arriving, he’d toured the club but by the time they’d finally made their way to the deli, Lara Emmons had already left. One of her coworkers explained she’d been called to Mast
er C’s office, so they’d both headed that way, taking different paths hoping one of them caught up with her before she reached her destination.
They hadn’t planned to derail her—the opposite in fact. Fischer had insisted this would be a great opportunity for Peter to meet her, they’d catch up with her, with luck, and then wait until she was finished to take her out for a late lunch. Just before entering the ornately decorated reception area, Peter caught a glimpse of an agitated woman pacing the length of the room. He hadn’t looked at Fischer—he hadn’t been able to tear his gaze from the gorgeous woman pacing in front of him.
Adam, Peter, and Fischer Weston were all gifted empaths, but Fischer was by far the strongest, he’d mastered the skills as a small child. The youngest of the Weston boys had learned to speak telepathically to his brothers before he’d finished nursery school, and even though Peter and Adam had both worked hard to catch up, neither of them had ever been as gifted.
The two of them might have taken different paths on their way to the reception area, but they had arrived at almost the same moment. Peter didn’t take his eyes off the luscious blonde staring at him with the clearest blue eyes he’d ever seen, but he sent out his thoughts and hoped like hell his brother caught them. ‘If this is the woman you’ve been raving about, my sincere apologies for not coming here months ago.’ Fischer’s snort of laughter let him know his brother had indeed caught the message, it also alerted Lara to Fischer’s presence. When her eyes darted to his brother, Peter saw them dilate. Perfect.
Chapter Six
Lara was caught in the gaze of the stranger whose blunt admission that he was interested in fucking her sent a surge of desire through her that nearly stole her breath. She could feel moisture pooling in her sex and all he done was speak to her. The sound of a man’s soft laughter to her right broke the spell and when she turned, she looked into eyes the same shade of green, but this time it was Fischer.
Fischer Weston might have the face of an angel, but Lara wasn’t fooled. Fischer was a wolf in sheep’s clothing. She’d rarely seen him give a woman so much as a second glance, and she’d heard murmurs among the uncollared subs that he was gay. Lara had disagreed, but wisely kept her opinion to herself. She’d learned early on to keep herself out of the way of the merciless grinding stone of the club’s rumor mill because anything that could pulverize someone else to dust could certainly do the same to her. She’d been the victim of bullying when she’d attended public school for the first time. From that point on, Lara had sworn off gossip and negativity. When her parents returned to the United States so she could attend high school, Lara might not have dressed in the latest clothing, or known about everything “trending” among her classmates, but she’d traveled the world with her missionary parents, and she’d known how to make friends. Learning to read people was a survival skill for a kid that moved every three to six months, and she’d mastered the skill early on.
Lara had seen the way Fischer looked at her, at first he’d seemed confused, as if there was something different about her that he couldn't figure out. But just a few weeks after she’d started at Dark Desires his gaze had turned molten. There had been times when she’d been playing with another Dom and she had known he was nearby watching because she’d literally been able to feel his gaze on her.
Fischer ate at the deli almost every time she worked in the small eatery and he always engaged her in conversation. But despite the fact she could see the desire in his eyes, he’d never asked her to play. She had finally stopped hoping for anything more and just enjoyed his friendship, assuming that was all there would ever be. Since he’d never given her any indication of what was missing between them, she’d eventually stopped trying to figure it out.
“Fischer, what are you doing here?” Lara heard the note of edge in her voice and grimaced when he simply raised a brow at her. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to be rude. I’m just really nervous right now.” And being in the same room with two hot Doms is not the solution. She hadn’t realized she was wringing her hands together until he glanced down where she had them clasped together in front of her. He didn’t react or respond, he just continued studying her. His scrutiny was doing nothing to allay the tension she’d been feeling but she managed to stand still despite the fact her body had kicked into fight-or-flight mode and the scales were tipping precarious toward the flight side of things.
By the time Fischer pushed his shoulder away from the doorframe he’d been leaning against to take a step toward her, Lara was wound so tight she instinctively took a step back without even thinking. When her back came up against a warm chest, she gasped and would have taken a quick step to the side but a long, muscular arm banded around her just below her breasts. “Stop,” the deep voice of the man behind her washed over her in a warm wave of desire that made her realize her body had responded to his command before her mind had even registered the word, the realization thrilled her and terrified her in equal parts. “We aren’t going to hurt you, precious.” When he leaned down and pressed his lips against the tender pulse point below her ear, Lara knew she wouldn’t be able to hide her racing pulse from him and shuddered in response.
*****
Fischer watched every breath Lara took, each beat of her pulse as it pounded at the base of her neck. The woman fascinated him, even at a distance where the thoughts of other people were usually muffled, Fischer felt drawn to her. The first time he’d seen her, she’d been standing at the reception desk dressed in a floral sundress she probably mistakenly thought hid her lush curves. Even though she hadn’t spoken the words, her disappointment when she’d seen the membership fee had been written all over her pretty face. When she had simply nodded and turned to leave, he’d stepped forward and asked if she would be interested in the work program the owner was implementing. Fischer thought back on the wide-eyed look she’d given him, she’d confessed later that she’d wondered if he had been joking or hitting on her. That afternoon it had taken her so long to reply that he had begun to think she wasn’t going to. And then he had almost missed her hesitant nod because it had been so small.
There hadn’t been a single day since he’d met Lara that Fischer hadn’t thanked God above for that chance meeting. Well, except for the day she’d filled the entire club with smoke when she’d put cupcakes in the deli’s open oven. The look on her face when the local firefighters burst into the room had been worth the price of admission. But the crowning moment had been listening as she explained to a bewildered fire department captain why she’d thought a broiler oven was a reasonable option for baking. Since Fischer had been privy to the man’s thoughts, Fischer had known the captain hadn’t been sure whether to arrest or cuddle her.
Cam had lectured her for over an hour on the importance of clearing any future cooking “inspirations” with her supervisor or anyone else with a “lick of common sense—perhaps some third grader”. The stricken look on her face had quickly turned mutinous, and the glare she’d given her boss had earned her a punishment Fischer doubted she’d yet forgotten. Since they’d been forced to close the club on a Friday night, the club’s owner had given any Dom who had already scheduled a scene a chance to participate in her punishment. Master C had secured Lara in the stocks on the main stage, bared her lovely ass to the entire room and stood by as the offended Doms each gave her a couple of solid swats with an oak paddle. Fischer had finally interceded, reminding Master C that she’d been trying to do something nice for his birthday and hadn’t intentionally caused the mayhem that ensued. He still called her cupcake on occasion, and always enjoyed the sweet flush that burned her cheeks each and every time he used the nickname.
Peter’s soft chuckle told Fisher he’d picked up the memory that had been replaying in his mind. “Cupcake?”
Lara groaned in embarrassment as her face went crimson. “How did you know?” Then she’d moved her gaze to his, “You told your brother that story? I can’t believe you would do that, and I know he’s your brother because, well—just bec
ause. And please, please, please don’t do this to me right now. I have a really important interview with Master C and I just can’t cope with your rejection right now.” Before he’d even sorted through her words, Peter’s voice snarled in his mind. ‘Rejection? What the fuck? Is she kidding? She thinks you don’t want her?’
Before Fischer could answer, Cameron Barnes stepped into the room. As usual, the man didn’t miss anything, his gaze had barely moved between the three of them before he’d smiled and nodded his head. “Come along, Lara, I don’t want these two flustering you before we’ve had a chance to talk.”
Fischer wanted to growl in frustration as his boss led the very misinformed sub from the room. When he turned back to his brother, he saw Peter looked just as annoyed as he felt. “She doesn’t know? You haven’t told her what you were waiting for?” When Peter didn’t even try to hide his frustration, Fischer knew how truly pissed off he was. “What the fuck were you waiting for? You told me you were sure she was the one, why didn’t you make sure she didn’t get away?” When Fischer didn’t answer immediately, Peter began pacing, much the same as Lara had been doing when they’d found her. “You can’t hear her can you? That’s how you knew she was the one, but it also kept you from knowing she feels as though you have rejected her. Does that about cover it?”
This time Fischer found his voice, “Yeah. I remembered what Granny said—you know, about knowing we’d found the one when our gifts didn’t work well on her. But to be honest, I wasn’t sure at first because, well—because she really did seem too good to be true. And I wasn’t sure what to do with a woman I couldn’t read.” He ran a frustrated hand through his hair, “Hell, I still don’t know what to do with her, and I’ve known her for almost a year.” For the first time in his life Fischer understood what life must be like for other men, how utterly frustrating it was to have no idea what was going on in a woman’s mind. And because he usually did know, he’d felt like he had suddenly been tossed blindfolded into a room full of obstacles just before someone set the damned house on fire.