Taking Over

by Brandy Ayers

  “Dude, you look like shit.” Trent walked into the restaurant, his four-month-old daughter strapped to his chest in a carrier that looked complicated enough that Damian wasn’t sure he’d be able to hook the thing up if he were to trade spots with his best friend.

  “Yeah, well, at least I’m not stalking the woman and crashing her dates like you did when you thought Francie might be getting away.”

  Trent laughed, kissing his baby on her bald head. “Don’t knock it. I ended up with the girl, didn’t I?”

  True. The rest of the guys filed into their usual meeting spot for their quarterly get-togethers. They worked together on different projects off and on throughout the year, but they had begun these scheduled dinners years ago when their lives began taking them in different directions. Hardy had moved west after the five men disbanded their first startup company and now owned his own special effects studio in Burbank. Smith got out of the tech game altogether and sunk his millions into starting up an NFL team in his hometown of Omaha, Nebraska. Brant, like Trent, stayed in Pittsburgh. He’d created a wildly popular dating app and was still riding the millions from that venture.

  Despite their busy lives and their millions sitting in bank accounts, they never wanted to forget that at one point they had been five scholarship kids who lived on the same floor at Princeton University. They never fit in at the prestigious school and banded together to make their way through. It was Trent’s idea to revolutionize the software used in 911 call centers, but they all did their part in making the program work and selling it across the country. Now Trent was the sole owner of FiveStar Emergency Communications, but even he had given up much of the control to his employees, preferring to be home with his new wife and child. He’d been the first to settle down and insisted the rest wouldn’t be far behind. At the time, they all laughed, but Damian knew better. Now, four times a year they made a point to get together in Pittsburgh, where they had based their company.

  “Razor, my man, got any good stories for us today?” Brant slapped Damian on the back, guffawing at his own lame joke. At one point Damian had been all too happy to regale the guys with tales of his wild sexcapades. But it had long ago got old, to everyone but Brant.

  “I told you, asshole, I’m done with Razor. I’m shedding the whole persona, strictly going by Damian now.” The nickname had been given to him in college because he preferred the little scooters as his means of transportation around school. His class schedule was so jam-packed he needed the wheels to make classes on time, and they were light and compact. His friends ribbed him for the damn scooter all the time, but he welcomed the name. Flipped it on its head and made it his own. He’d created a whole persona around that damn nickname. Became a sexually adventurous asshole who lived life on the edge. But he was no longer that man. Hadn’t been for a very long time.

  Brant took a sip of his beer and leaned back in his chair, narrowing his eyes at Damian. “I call bullshit. You meet one woman and you’re, what, going to give up all the free pussy you get at that club? I give it a month tops.”

  “Dude, watch the language. Little lady present.” Hardy glared across at Brant, then leaned over to pinch his goddaughter’s cheeks where they peeked out from the carrier.

  “Trent, where the hell is your wife? Isn’t she supposed to be the one taking care of the baby?” Brant looked at the child with suspicion.

  Smith, the one sitting closest to Brant, reached over and smacked him upside the head. “Can you be more of an asshole?”

  “And to answer your question, our sweet princess here has been teething for what seems like three months straight.” Trent kissed her bald little head again, and baby Celeste looked at him as if he was the best thing since boobs and milk. “Francie hasn’t gotten much sleep lately, so she is spending the day at the spa getting massaged and sleeping as much as she wants while I keep the baby.”

  Damian very well knew that Brant talked a good game, but it was mostly bullshit. He’d had his heart epically broken early in their college days, and it changed him from a sweet guy to a hard-hearted jerk. They all put up with it because they knew who he really was underneath it all and because he was a loyal friend who would do anything for any of the four other men. But lately, Damian wondered whether he hadn’t changed beyond repair.

  “Actually, I haven’t frequented the club in months. Long before I met Lydia. But yes, I am willing to give up all that and more for this one woman. Or at least I was. Before she saw that goddamn email you sent and jumped to conclusions. Now I can’t even get a meeting with her.” The situation chafed at his soul. He missed Lydia, despite their short time together. “So, I’m hoping you guys will help me come up with a plan to get to her.”

  “Seriously, our one time just hanging out together in months, and one of you douchebags wants to talk romantic gestures, and the other is wearing a baby like a necklace. What the hell has happened to you guys?” Brant guzzled the rest of his beer and stood up from the table before anyone could respond. “I’m out of here. Call me when you guys all find your balls again.”

  The four remaining friends looked at one another in shock. Brant had always been a little crude and lacking a filter, and he had been hardened since his one true love broke his heart years before. But he had never bailed on a friend in need before. Hell, he helped Trent find Francie all those years ago.

  “I’ll talk to him tomorrow. Find out what’s going on.” Smith signaled the waitress for another round of drinks and nodded toward Damian. “For now, let’s get your girl back.”

  Chapter Nine

  Lydia

  The screen blurred before her eyes, and Lydia had to blink several times to bring it back into focus. She’d been staring at the same damn spreadsheet for hours now and hadn’t absorbed a damn thing from the cost analysis of hiring an outside tech firm to reverse engineer the app that Damian had brought to her.

  She hated to admit it, but his ideas about the company and the app would launch their product into the stratosphere. So she needed to figure out a way to still make that happen, without ever talking to the asshole again.

  His face popped up in her memory, as it had so often in the month since their one night together. Just as always, it was the image of his face right before she stormed off on the street. When he realized she wasn’t going to budge. Panic, sadness, and pain had marred his features. But it had all been an act. At least she was pretty sure it had. Between the email and the precarious way he had gone about meeting her, he couldn’t be trusted. And if Lydia ever decided to go down the road to a relationship, she needed trust to be the absolute first thing on the list of traits she sought in a partner.

  For the first time in her life, however, she was doubting herself. What if he had been telling the truth? What if she misunderstood the email? What if he really never intended on telling anyone about her activities in Zion?

  Normally, she would never doubt her instincts. The problem was that every bone in her body was telling her to give him a second chance. To see what he had to say. But she just couldn’t get around her own stubbornness.

  The worst part about the whole thing was not only that she missed the asshole so much but also that he had apparently ruined her for all other men. The night before, she had scrolled through her list of former lovers, and not a single one held any appeal. And though going a month away from Club Zion was certainly not out of the ordinary for her, she couldn’t muster even the slightest bit of interest in reserving a room.

  Instead, all she wanted was a man who stalked her, blackmailed her, and possibly hacked her accounts. There was something very, very wrong with her.

  The intercom on her phone clicked to life, and the receptionist’s voice filled Lydia’s empty office. “Ms. St. James, there is a Stephan Kincaid on the phone for you. Would you like me to transfer him through?”

  Why would Stephan be calling her? He hadn’t done that since she had gone through the rigorous background check required of admittance to Club Zion. Normally, if s
he wanted to set up something special for herself, she called him directly. Never the other way around.

  “Thank you, Joslyn. You can send the call through.” Lydia sat back and waited the few seconds it took for the call to ring on her line. “Hello, Stephan. To what do I owe this surprise?”

  “Lydia, good to hear your voice. Well, we are having a special exhibition tonight with new feature rooms that I think you might be especially aroused by.” Stephan’s voice was smooth as silk, just like every other part of him. The man could quite literally sell anything to anyone, and she was no exception. “I wanted to extend a personal invitation for you to attend tonight’s unveiling.”

  The thought of putting her club persona on and venturing in to see some new kink they would be featuring held about as much appeal as getting a salt scrub after a full Brazilian wax. Her heart hurt, something she had never experienced before, and she didn’t think engaging in meaningless sex with strangers was going to make it any better.

  “Thank you for the invitation, Stephan, but I think I am going to pass this time. Just not in the mood today.” Lydia wondered idly if Damian would be there tonight as well. He was an investor after all. If there was to be the unveiling of an exhibit, surely the investors would be included.

  “Truth be told, Lydia, I’m not sure if we have crossed over a line here with the new rooms. My employees, the other club members, they will all try to kiss my ass and tell me what I want to hear. I want a real opinion.” Stephan chuckled, the rich honey of his voice practically dripping over the phone. Lydia herself had never had a true attraction to the man. He simply wasn’t her type, but she could see the appeal. “I know from past experience that you will not pull any punches. Please, come, take everything in, and simply speak your mind in the manner I know you are accustomed to.”

  Never one to give an answer without truly weighing the options, Lydia paused. Would going out for a night of observation really be all that bad? She wouldn’t participate—couldn’t—the way her heart and mind were at war with each other over Damian. But she could go. Watch. Distract herself.

  Of course, she would have to look her best, just in case the investors were in attendance.

  ***

  The first time Lydia entered Zion, she had been unsure whether or not she was at the right place. She had heard whispered stories of the sex club for years and decided it might be the answer to the desires that swirled in her belly with no, or at least disappointing, outlets. But the exterior was nothing like she thought it would be.

  The club was in no way illegal; however, it was secretive. To the uninformed, the building housing Zion looked like nothing more than a swanky country club or boutique hotel. The main floor was a cavernous lobby and dining room, with private conference rooms at either side that occasionally housed weddings or special events. The upper three floors were guest rooms appointed in a warm, sophisticated style. Gaining access to the real life of the place, however, required a key to a private elevator toward the back of the hotel.

  Club Zion took up the bottom two floors of the hotel, and for the first time since being a member of the club, Lydia entered through Stephan’s private entrance. She’d been waiting for the other shoe to drop for weeks. The anticipation of when Damian would release his knowledge of her proclivities had her on constant alert. Thankfully, the owner of the club had agreed to let her sneak in through the back so she could avoid any wandering eyes seeing her walk through the lobby.

  Stephan opened the door to his office at the rear of the building and offered up a rare hug in greeting. “You look lovely as always, Angel.”

  Ever the professional, Stephan never used real names inside the club. In fact, Lydia wasn’t entirely sure Stephan was his real name. “You as well, Stephan.” As she walked through his sparse office toward an elevator in the corner, she gave him a sly look over her shoulder. “You know, it just occurred to me I’m not sure if Stephan is even your real name.”

  The sleek man laughed lightly, placing his hand on her shoulder as he escorted her into the tiny elevator. “Unlike most of my clients, I have nothing to hide. My name is indeed Stephan Kincaid. I make no secret of the desires I prefer and will tell anyone who asks. The only reason I keep the club a secret is for the benefit of those who pay and need their identities hidden. Like you. Though I see no reason to be ashamed of what you like behind closed, or not so closed, doors.”

  Not wanting to get into some big philosophical debate about whether she should be ashamed of her desires, Lydia simply smiled and changed the subject. “So what exactly are we in for tonight?”

  She had to admit she was curious what these new rooms could be that might be crossing a line. Nothing illegal could happen in the establishment because Stephan didn’t want the police to ever have a reason for visiting the club in a professional capacity. BDSM, forced edging, group sex, gang bangs, bondage, latex fetishes—the list of rooms that he already offered on a rotating basis was endless. What could he possibly bring to Zion that would be all that new and unexpected?

  The elevator reached the first subbasement floor and slid open to the normal crowd milling about the place. Zion was exclusive enough that members began to see the same faces over and over again, and though they might not know real names or details, faces became familiar. Two gentlemen across the room raised their glasses to Lydia as she passed by, and she recognized them as the men who had participated in her last play session. She smiled at them and waved in return.

  It felt strange walking through the main floor dressed as she was. Normally, she would come dressed to the nines in a silk floor-length chemise that would leave little to the imagination. She wouldn’t be wearing panties or a bra. But tonight she had decided to go a little more relaxed, especially since she had no intention of participating. She wore skintight jeans that she had practically poured herself into earlier that night, and a backless, sequined top that was sexy but in no way said she was there for a good time. As always, she had added white-blonde, purple, and pink extensions to her already long hair to disguise her signature honey blonde. Her makeup was done to accentuate features she normally wouldn’t, making her nose and chin more prominent instead of her cheeks and eyes. Popping in contacts that made her eyes a brilliant purple instead of one blue and one green rounded out her persona. It was these simple things that made her feel less herself while in Zion and made her more secure in her ability to not be placed.

  Stephan led her down the hallway to the rooms where scenes were usually played out. These were the same spaces Lydia would reserve when in need of her special kink. They came to a stop in front of the very same room she had been in the last time she visited Zion, the time she first met Damian, and she suddenly knew she had been set up.

  “How much did he pay you? I’d love to know exactly how much your integrity is worth, you know, for future reference.” Anger boiled inside Lydia like hot oil, spitting out and lashing at the nearest person.

  “He didn’t give me a cent. I listened to him. And though I admit he did not go about things in the right way, I truly believe he went about them for the right reason.” Stephan pushed open the frosted glass door that separated the room from the rest of the hall and stood to the side to allow Lydia to pass. “I’ve known you both for a long time, and I know he can sometimes leap before looking. And you can sometimes look too much and not listen enough. May I suggest you open your ears and your mind? I think you will find his words most interesting.”

  Reluctantly, Lydia stepped through the door into the large room. At first she thought it might be empty. She had expected Damian to simply be standing inside waiting for her. But no. That wasn’t his style, and she knew it. Damian didn’t do anything halfway. When he decided to pursue her, he attacked the prospect like a problem and formulated a plan over several months. When he demanded she stay with him for two weeks, he bought her an entire wardrobe and built her an office.

  Winning her back would obviously be no different.

  Against the wall
where she herself had stood so many times, Damian now stood chained in the exact position she had been in when they first laid eyes on each other. And much like her, he was completely naked, his cock standing out proud and strong from between his hips. Lydia wished she could say seeing him in that position did nothing to her, that her body, heart, and mind did not have a single reaction. But that would be the lie to end all lies. Because not only did they all have a reaction, they all had the same reaction. Need.

  “What are the rules for this room?” Lydia turned to look at Stephan, who still stood in the doorway.

  The club owner smiled and nodded toward Damian. “The only rule Damian has requested is that you be the only one allowed to enter. You may do whatever you wish to him.”

  She quirked one eyebrow up, turning back to the man who had made her feel so many things, including betrayal. “Interesting.”

  “May I say, I’ve known Damian, or Razor as I call him down here, for many years. He has never once, to my knowledge, prostrated himself like this in or out of the club. I believe that says something about his feelings for you.” With a slight nod, Stephan smiled and left the room, clicking the lock behind him.

  His words certainly gave Lydia pause. Everything she knew about Damian told her he was a proud man. This act of being strapped naked to a wall would not be easy for him. Despite the enormous hard-on he currently sported, she knew this wasn’t his type of thing.

  With a sigh, she walked closer to where he stood. Unlike her, he didn’t need a platform to put him at the correct height for the carabiner to hold his restraints, so he stood flat-footed on the warm tile floor. As she got closer, his head tilted up from his focal point on the floor, and she didn’t miss the way his dick twitched either. Finally, when she was no more than a foot away from him, his eyes made contact with hers, and what lay behind them almost made Lydia gasp.