by Amy Valenti
The bouncer was the same guy she’d seen before and he obviously recognized her. With a wink he opened the door for her and she stepped inside.
For a Sunday, Diablo was busy, a crush of people at the bar, the dance floor crowded. Scarlett worked her way to the bar, peering over the heads of the crowd, looking for Wesley. She didn’t see him, but she couldn’t see to the far end of the bar.
“What can I get you, lady?”
She looked at the bartender leaning toward her.
“I’m looking for Wesley. Is he working tonight?”
The snort of laughter she got surprised her. The man straightened, shaking his head.
“You another groupie? He’s off on Sunday’s. You’d think by now you’d all know his schedule. Try that other club he hangs out at.” The man turned and walked away.
Scarlett fought her way back to the door, out into the cool night air. The bouncer eyed her up again, smiled, looking like he wanted to talk. Before he could get the chance, she headed back down the street to where she’d parked her car.
Finding the club was more difficult than finding Diablo. After many wrong turns and dead ends, she finally pulled up at the deserted-looking building. The valet opened her door, hand held out for the keys.
“I’m looking for someone. I won’t be long. Can I just leave the car here?”
“Twenty minutes. Any longer and it risks getting towed.”
“Okay.”
The doorman held the door and she walked down the hallway into the lounge. It was much less crowded than it had been last night and she scanned the couples and groups scattered around the room.
“Hey, how you doing?” Stacy appeared as if by magic at Scarlett’s elbow, eyes bright, smile in place.
Stacy was covered from neck to toes in what looked like a latex cat suit that left nothing to the imagination. She looked like a dangerous pixie. Scarlett was pretty sure the play-piercing had been removed. The latex was stretched tightly across Stacy’s back and if there was anything bigger than a speck of lint beneath the material, it would be visible.
“I’m good. I’m looking for Wesley.”
Stacy’s smile never changed, but something in her eyes shifted gears. “He’s in a session, love. A private session.”
“Oh. Can I wait for him?” She took a step toward the bar.
“It’s Scarlett, right?” Stacy linked her arm through Scarlett’s turning her away from the bar, back toward the hallway and the exit.
“Yeah.” She looked over her shoulder, still searching for Wesley, confused over what was happening. “But I can just sit…”
“Okay. Scarlett, here’s the deal. Wesley’s a regular and we like him. He’s easy on the eyes, gives good sessions, and he’s low-drama. He is now, at least. Thing is, that used to be different. He was high-drama, and not in a good way. Get what I’m saying?”
Scarlett looked down at Stacy. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
They were almost to the door of the club, back in the hallway. It was quiet there, and Stacy’s voice was low.
“You seem like a nice girl, Scarlett. Maybe too nice. Can I be frank?”
Scarlett frowned. “I thought you were.”
Stacy waved her hand. “I don’t know what your deal is with Wesley, and to be honest, I don’t care. We want everyone to have a good time here, and that means no jilted ex-playmates showing up. Got it? You’re welcome to come back anytime, with an escort.”
Somewhere a bouncer had joined them, and the big burly man was now holding the door open. Scarlett realized Stacy was tossing her out of the club.
“But I want to see Wesley.”
“I’m sure you do. And you can see him any place you want. Except here and now.”
Stacy glanced at the man and somehow Scarlett found herself being gently handed out of the door. The valet was standing by her car, holding the door open. She turned back, but the door was closing behind her, the doorman moving to stand in front of it, an implacable wall of black.
She walked to her car, got in and started the engine. The valet moved back to the door, the doorman bending his head for a brief conversation, before reaching for a cell phone. Stacy didn’t wait to see who’d come out to tell her to move on. She put the car in gear and drove away.
There was no way she could go home and after circling the block twice, garnering more glowering looks from the doorman and valet, she turned the car in the opposite direction, toward Wesley’s apartment.
Chapter Eleven
Scarlett sat in her car, watching the door to Wesley’s apartment building. She felt like a stalker, a bad one. She’d been waiting for what seemed like hours, running the heater when she got cold, shifting in her seat as her legs fell asleep.
More than anything, she felt like a fool. Wesley had made his decision, decided the club and the anonymous girls were where he’d rather be. It hurt, badly.
But even if he had made that decision, she wanted to hear it from him. She thought he at least he owed her that much.
It was after one when his car pulled around the corner, disappearing behind the building. After a moment he appeared on the sidewalk, walking into the building. He was alone and for a moment she wondered what she’d done if he’d come home with someone.
Finally the light went on in his apartment and she climbed out of her car. Her legs were wobbly and she wasn’t sure if it was from sitting for hours, the cold, or nerves. But she forced herself to walk across the street to the door. She found the buzzer for his apartment, glancing down at the little name tag. J. Montgomery.
“Montgomery.” At least she knew that much more about him.
The buzzer sounded and the door clicked open. Either he was expecting someone or he knew it was her. Or he let random people into the building.
As she climbed the stairs she heard a door open above her. When she reached the top she saw it was the door to Wesley’s apartment, standing open. She walked down the hall and turned into the open doorway.
“I knew it was you.”
Wesley came around the corner from the kitchen, a beer in his hand. He held it up, tilting his head. When she didn’t answer, he shrugged and opened the bottle.
“First rule of stalking. Don’t park across from the guy’s apartment. Might want to remember that for next time.”
She thought he was pretending to be drunk. There was no alcohol in sessions at the club. Unless he’d gone out with…whoever. Scarlett shook herself. It wasn’t going to do her any good to make things up.
“You went back to the club?”
Wesley dropped into a chair by the kitchen table. “I did.” He looked up at her, and she thought she saw a challenge in his eyes.
Scarlett pulled out the other chair, perching on the edge. “Did you pick someone up there? Did you have sex with her?”
“Guilty on both counts.” He sat forward, leaning on the table. “Is that a problem for you?”
“Well, I thought we were…” Her voice trailed off. She couldn’t call them a couple, not after what he’d said this afternoon. He had said the word relationship earlier and she’d thought he meant what he said.
“…in a relationship.”
“You’re holding me to a commitment because I said one word?” He held her gaze, eyes hard and cold, then lifted the bottle and drained it.
“What exactly do you want from me, Scarlett? You’ve been calling me, you went to Diablo. Looked for me at the club. Everyone’s telling me this girl is after me. Now I find you camped out here, waiting for me.” Wesley rose, walked to the refrigerator and took out another beer. “You sure you don’t want one?”
Scarlett shook her head. “I’m not stalking you, if that’s what you think. I’m confused.”
Wesley sat back down. “About what?” He tipped back the bottle, taking a long swallow.
“About us. What we are. What you think we are.”
Wesley set the beer down on the table. “What we had, here that first night, then at
the club, it’s been great. Really great. But I’m not looking for anything else right now.”
The pit of Scarlett’s stomach went cold. “There’s nothing else, nothing at all? You’ve got no interest in me other than a girl you got to initiate into your little group?”
Wesley frowned. “You wanted to come to the club. That was your idea. But you’ve got to know enough about me now…after today…that I’m not the guy you should be interested in.”
“So what happened to trying? Trying to not go to the club? Trying to have a relationship with me? Or did you forget that part of our discussion?”
He took another swallow of beer, avoiding her eyes. “Yeah, well, slip of the tongue, or something. Or wishful thinking on your part.”
“So the whole making things right by making things better was just a lie? Was anything you said today the truth?”
“Don’t twist what I say, Scarlett.” His voice held an edge, one she didn’t like.
“I’m not. You stood in your bedroom and said all that stuff. About being used, about being manipulated. That you weren’t out for revenge with this lifestyle you’re leading. And you said…”
“Stop telling me what I said. I was there, remember.”
“So was I. And you said you wanted to try.”
“You just don’t give up, do you, Scarlett?” He stood and for a moment he towered over her. She wanted to pull back from him, from his intensity, but something snapped inside and she stood up, planting her finger against his chest.
“You know what you are? You’re afraid. You’re a scared little boy, playing the bully, trying to get me to leave you so you don’t have to feel bad. If you want this to end, then end it. Otherwise, don’t tell me you weren’t serious before, about trying.”
He held his ground and she held hers. Beneath her finger she could feel his heart beating, the rise and fall of his chest. He was angry, but she didn’t care. She’d said what she wanted to say.
Then his eyes flickered away from hers briefly, and something in the way he held his body changed, his shoulders dropping, the tension between the two of them lessening a fraction.
“Scarlett, this isn’t what you want, is it?” He looked back and the anger was gone from his eyes. “Trying to convince me it’s worth trying, I mean.”
“I want you, Wesley. Whatever it takes. Getting mad at you, you getting mad at me. If we’re in the same room, even if we’re arguing, at least we’re trying.”
He shook his head. “You’re really something, you know? Bull-headed, stubborn…”
Scarlett held up one hand. “You’re not the first one to tell me this. And, yeah, I’m stubborn. When I think I’m right.”
“And you think you’re right about us? Do you really think we can have any kind of chance at a relationship?”
“Do you want to try?”
They were still standing in the kitchen, practically toe to toe. Wesley reached out tentatively, setting his hand on her arm. He was quiet for a long, long time, looking anywhere but at her face.
“I’m scared, Scarlett.” He brought his eyes up to hers.
For the first time she heard the fear in his voice, the uncertainty. She reached up, took his hand and pulled him into the living room. He followed obediently, sitting beside her on the couch.
“It’s okay to be afraid, Wesley. It’s normal. I’m afraid. Everyone is when they start something new.”
“It’s not that. I’m afraid I’m going to hurt you. And that’s the last thing I want.”
“So you think if you make it impossible to start, give up before we even try, I won’t get hurt? I’ve got news for you, Wesley. It doesn’t work that way. You don’t get to decide for me what I want. I’m willing to try for us. All I want from you is the same commitment. To try.”
“You make it sound simple.”
“It’s not rocket science, you know. We try. It works, or it doesn’t. But unless we try, we’ll never know.”
He reached out, hand against her cheek. “So this is it then? We’re in this thing, this sort of a relationship thing?”
“We don’t have to give it a name, if that helps you. It’s just us, you and me, Wesley and Scarlett. It does mean no club for you, no girls from Diablo. It’d be good, I think, if we stuck to seeing just each other. Okay?”
He smiled, a genuine smile, dimples and all. “Can I still tie you up and spank you?’
She returned his smile. “I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.” Her smile faded a little. “About that…I think I’m banned from the club.”
Wesley’s smile widened, and then he laughed. “Stacy runs a tight ship. You’re not banned, exactly. You just can’t go there alone. But you’re still welcome to come with me. Besides, why would you be there without me?”
“True. There’s no reason for that, is there?”
He took her hand, tracing a line along her palm. “No reason at all.”
They were quiet for a moment, and Scarlett wondered what was going on inside Wesley’s mind. She’d always been the open book in a relationship, telling all, expecting to hear all in return. But she’d learned the hard way guys didn’t operate like that.
“Scarlett, I’d like to ask you something.” He looked up from her hand. “Even though you said no labels, can we talk about being…about dominance and submission? If you’re still interested in that.” His eyes held a mixture of longing and hope.
She leaned back against the couch cushions, Wesley still holding her hand. “I am interested. It’s just…it’s hard for me to separate being a submissive from being in a relationship with you.”
“There doesn’t have to be a separation. It can be a lifestyle.” He winced. “Yeah, I know, I tossed that word around like it meant something before. You’re right, I was full of bullshit.”
Scarlett’s heart hurt for Wesley, for the pain he’d gone through, for the effort he was putting forth now.
“It really means that much to you, to want to be a dominant?”
“Not just a dominant. I want to be yours. And to have you as my submissive.” He leaned forward, eyes intent. “Just you, only you. No others. I’d give up working at Diablo if it would help you decide.”
Her eyes widened. “Wesley…I can’t ask that.”
“You’re not. I’m offering.” He blew out a breath. “Let me tell you what happened tonight, how I ended up at the club, what happened.”
Scarlett closed her eyes. “I don’t need to know, really.”
“But I need to tell you. I want to start fresh, not just telling you the truth, but telling you how I feel about it. Just hear me out.”
She looked at him and nodded. It was what she’d asked of him earlier, truth and communication. There was no backing out now.
“I left your apartment and everything seemed okay. Once I was back in the car, I went to Diablo, see if I could pick up a shift or two next week. The place was packed. I was sitting at the bar, waiting for Jeremy—he’s the manager—to check the schedule. Then this girl comes up, sits next to me. I don’t recognize her, but we start talking.”
“Wesley…I really don’t want…” She shook her head.
He ignored her, too carried away to stop. “She said she knew me, knew of me. Asked if I was interested in playing at the club. I started to say no, but then I heard your voice, your words from before. And I got mad, all over again. Or still. Or something.”
“I’m sorry about that.”
“I know. But it still hurt. Your words hurt. And I wanted to prove you wrong, that this wasn’t just random, it was my life…how I live my life. And damn it, that I was happy living it this way.” He let go of her hand and stood, pacing the small room.
“Suddenly I wanted that girl like I’ve never wanted anyone before. And all the while we were driving to the club, when I had her in that room, when she was there in front of me…” He paused, closed his eyes briefly. “…all I could think about was you, that I wished you were there.”
Scarlett sat forward
. “Why? Why on earth…” She couldn’t imagine what would make him want here there, to watch him with another girl.
“To make me see the truth. I couldn’t do it on my own. I needed you.” He drew a ragged breath. “I need you, Scarlett. More than I want to admit.”
His voice broke and he turned to her, anguish written across his face. Scarlett stood and crossed the space between them. He pulled her into his arms, burying his face against her neck.
“Wesley…” She had no words, but she realized none were needed. His shoulders shook slightly and she thought he was crying. She held him more tightly until he lifted his head, looking down at her. His eyes were bright, but there were no tears.
“Scarlett, you’re the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time. I was an ass tonight, a complete jerk to do what I did to you. To us.”
“Yeah, you were.”
She caught his look of surprise and smiled. “But I believe in second chances. Sometimes third chances.” She shrugged, his usual move, but it felt right.
“We start fresh. Again. And again, if we have to. We don’t give up. Okay?”
He nodded. “I have an idea. Something symbolic.”
Scarlett frowned. “Symbolic of what?”
“Wait here.” He let go of her and left the room. She sat back on the couch, frowning. A moment later he came back down the hall with something in his hand.
“This…it’s not perfect. But I think it will work until I can get a new one.”
In his hand was a thin black leather collar, with a delicate silver buckle.
“What is it?”
“It’s a submission collar. You’d wear it.” He held the collar out to her almost reverently. She took it, her hand shaking. This was totally unexpected and obviously extremely important to Wesley.
“What does this mean? To wear a collar?”
“It can mean a lot of different things. I think, for us…” He glanced at Scarlett. “For now, it’s the start of our journey together.”