Black Light_Roulette Redux

by Livia Grant

“Wrong. Most of my friends have moved to the west coast.” She paused before adding, “I chose there because of all of the art museums in the neighborhood. I’ve scored internships at the top five art museums in NYC in the last few years.”

  “Internships? Like work?”

  She’d had enough of his insults. She put her hands against his wet chest and pushed as hard as she could, finally forcing him to release her.

  Fury poured through her veins. She was used to being underestimated by almost everyone in her life. Strangers who didn’t know the first thing about her and jumped to the conclusion that because she was born with a gold spoon in her mouth that she’d be happy doing nothing but playing her life away.

  But having Connor Lambert, someone who’d known her for her entire life make the same assumption... well it fucking hurt more than she would let him see.

  She leaned down to grab up her bag and fling it over her shoulder. “Send me your dry cleaning bill. Unlike your expectations, I like to cover my responsibilities.”

  She moved to leave, but he stepped sideways, blocking her path to the door.

  “Move out of the way. I want to leave.”

  For the first time since she’d arrived, he was the one who looked uncomfortable.

  “Sit down. Let’s talk through your idea.”

  “Why, so you can ridicule me some more? Dredge up every stupid thing I’ve ever done? Well, no thanks. If I wanted that, I’d have stayed home and read the gossip rags.”

  He hesitated, before finally saying a quiet, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. I’m just in a shitty mood and taking it out on you.”

  Had he really just apologized? Before she could respond, the cell phone sitting on his desk rang. She didn’t think he was going to answer it until he reached for it after several rings.

  “Lambert.”

  The room fell silent as he listened to the person on the other end of the phone. As the seconds stretched to a minute, she started to fidget. She needed to get out of there. She needed to change her clothes. She needed a shower.

  She needed time to think.

  “Hold on for a second,” he told the person on the other end of the line before placing his hand over the receiver end of the smartphone to talk to her.

  “I need to take this call in the conference room. Stay here. I’ll be back in a few minutes and you can pitch your proposal to me, but I’ll warn you. There isn’t a single thing I can think of that you’re going to say to me that could convince me you’re mature enough to manage your portfolio, Gabriella.”

  The asshole had the gall to smile after his insulting fatherly lecture. Her palm itched, wanting to reach out and slap that smug smile right off the handsome face with the sexy scruff of a five o’clock shadow. But he turned and was gone from the room before she could make her hand move.

  Anger bubbled up, mixing with indignation, making her feel reckless. She needed to show the asshole she wasn’t a child any more. She had worked hard to earn the respect of those in the art community. She had interned in over a dozen of the world’s most elite art museums. She had forged the kind of relationships and connections in the art community that having the last name Castle allowed her.

  She had a great business idea and was determined to put it into motion, with or without Connor Lambert’s help. Grabbing up her winter coat from the nearby chair, a crumpled flier on unique black paper caught her eye. Memories of the men’s discussion in the hall earlier returned. Was this the information on the Valentine’s Day party at Runway?

  It was the worst advertising campaign in the history of marketing. There were hardly any details on the paper, in a neon purple ink. Just a website URL and a cryptic question: Are you brave enough to spin the wheel?

  She turned the flier over and found a handwritten code on the other side. It was a long mix of letters and numbers. It looked like a password. And not just any password made up of pet names and birthdays. This password screamed STAY AWAY.

  Remembering the conversation earlier and the warning that only senior partners of the firm were to work on Jaxson Davidson and Chase Cartwright’s deals piqued her interest.

  “What the hell kind of secrets are they trying to keep?” she said, speaking out loud to the empty room.

  Without giving it another thought, Gabriella stuck the paper into her bag and grabbed her coat. She wouldn’t be waiting to go another round with Connor Lambert. Not today. He’d clearly come out the winner of their first match. She needed to retreat and lick her wounds.

  But she wasn’t going to give up. She just needed to come up with a way to make him see that she’d grown up and was ready to put her planned career into motion using her own damn money.

  And if that didn’t work, well she’d figure out how to get him wrapped around her little finger just like she had his father.

  Chapter 2

  Valentine’s Day Night

  With dread, Connor Lambert put his Audi in park, turning off the engine. He sat stone still, thinking. He knew there was no way he could get out of the night’s planned event, but it didn’t stop him from trying to come up with a last minute excuse.

  Finally giving up, he reluctantly opened the trunk of his sedan, pulling the heavy duffle bag out and throwing it over his shoulder before locking up his car and walking towards the parking garage’s elevator.

  He’d been to Black Light twice before. Both times to make introductions between the discreet financiers from the west coast and Jaxson Davidson, his client. The meetings had been a big hit and tonight the men would be celebrating the closing on the exclusive gated mansion in Beverly Hills the week before. He had just made Jaxson Davidson and his lovers, Chase Cartwright and Emma Fischer, the majority owners of the property that would be Runway West to the public and Black Light: Beverly Hills to the rich, famous and kinky of Hollywood.

  Well as soon as I get the final zoning problems sorted out.

  He was running late. It was already past seven.

  Melting snow covered his dress shoes as he crossed 31st Street, heading to the psychic shop. As the bell rang overhead when he opened the door, he knew it was too late to find an excuse to skip the event. He was going to do this.

  Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. It wasn’t like he hadn’t enjoyed his first visits to the club. On the contrary, watching debauched sexual encounters of dominance and submission from a spectator’s distance had been exactly what he’d needed. He’d watched. He had enjoyed. And then he’d gone home alone to jack-off until he’d jutted white ropes of pent up sexual frustration onto his shower tile.

  But tonight, it would be some unknown woman who would be helping him get off . Well, after he did his own spanking of her ass, of course. Dominating a woman again wasn’t what he was worried about. In some ways, he looked forward to unleashing his dominant sexual urges again on some little subby stupid enough to sign up to play a dangerous game of Roulette. It was the other side of the D/s equation he wanted to avoid at all costs.

  The intimate side.

  “Good evening, Mr. Lambert. I’ve been expecting you.”

  The guard behind the fabric curtain at the back of the store greeted him. “Hello, Luis. Good to see you again.”

  “You too, sir.”

  “Have my guests from Los Angeles arrived yet?”

  “Yes, sir. They got here about thirty minutes ago. I sent them on ahead. I assumed you’d want them to get comfortable.”

  “Of course. That’s perfect.”

  “Have a nice evening, sir. I hope you roll a good one.”

  Connor didn’t answer Luis. There was no point. As he ambled down the concrete stairs and started walking the long tunnel under the alley between the psychic shop and Black Light, he let his mind wander again to the reason why tonight was a bad idea. There were two couples ahead of him reminding him that the club would be full tonight.

  He had friends who made it a sport of playing with a different sub each week at the club he used to go to in L.A. He’d tried that to
o when he’d been new to the lifestyle and experimenting. But he’d quickly found playing with near strangers had never been enough for him. It had taken him a while to figure it out, but it was the intimacy of a BDSM relationship that he had enjoyed the most. The vulnerability of a submissive turning themselves over to him completely was what he craved. Trusting him to take care of her. Control her. Discipline her.

  D/s relationships were intimate and the dominance had been his drug of choice.

  But he knew the truth now. Control was a charade. He’d learned the hard way that it was the submissive that held all the cards in a D/s relationship. In the space of a few hours, Cheryl had taken everything he had known to be true and turned it on its head. She’d removed his control at the exact moment he’d caught her in their bed with the dungeon master of the club. Had they been doing something kinky, he might have been able to overlook it, but he’d stood in the doorway watching long enough to know the couple in his bed were making love. The most intimate betrayal.

  Control was a fucking illusion. He’d had none.

  As he placed his cell phone and smart watch in his locker, he hardened his heart. Cheryl was old news. That had been five months ago. He’d moved across the country to start over, both professionally and personally. He’d been celibate for too long. Hot showers aside, he admitted it would be good to have sex again. He would emulate the dominants he admired. He’d use his membership to play hard, pushing a different sub’s buttons each week. He wouldn’t let any of them get close enough to do damage. He didn’t have time for personal shit anyway. He had too much work to do.

  The thumping beat of the music was softer than normal as he opened the door to the main floor of the club. That wasn’t the only difference. The club was as full as he’d ever seen it, with almost everyone still fully clothed. If he overlooked the spanking benches and St. Andrew’s crosses waiting on the multiple raised platforms, he might think he was at an elegant cocktail party.

  The lights were brighter than normal as well, and instead of everyone congregating close to the bar across to his left, the crowd was pressing in around the main stage to the right. Tables and chairs had been setup for the many spectators to take a seat while they waited for the main event to begin.

  Servers in skimpy outfits flitted through the space, passing out champagne and appetizers. He flagged down a tall redhead in thigh-high boots and little else.

  “I’ll take a couple of those flutes off your hands.” He reached to take the only two remaining glasses of cold bubbly.

  “Good evening, Mr. Lambert. As a participant tonight, I’ll let the bar know you’ve had your two drink limit.”

  He threw back his head, downing the first flute in several big gulps. He answered her as he put the empty back on her tray. “Davidson doesn’t miss a trick, does he?”

  She grinned. “No sir. All of the servers had to study the pictures of tonight’s participants to make sure we knew who could and couldn’t order more drinks.”

  “Sneaky bastard. Have a nice evening.”

  “Yes, sir. Have fun.”

  Have fun. That was good advice. He seriously needed to loosen up. He scanned the room closer, wondering which one of the lovely ladies present would help break his long dry spell.

  “Lambert. I was beginning to think you were having second thoughts.”

  Jaxson Davidson’s voice was behind him. He didn’t turn to respond. “Oh I’m already onto my third and fourth thoughts by now.”

  He sensed, rather than saw Davidson move next to him as he lifted the champagne glass to his lips, savoring this one a bit as it would be his last for the evening.

  “I’ve been surprised you haven’t played on your visits before tonight. I thought you told me you had a membership to The Ropes in L.A.?”

  He finished the alcohol, wishing he’d held out for something stronger at the bar before answering. “Yep. I was a member for almost three years.”

  Davidson pressed him. “So what am I missing? You’re acting like you’re about to face a firing squad, not going to have fun dominating a willing submissive who came here to experiment.”

  He could lie. Make something up. But the men had spent enough time together that Connor felt like bullshitting Davidson would be a mistake.

  “Yeah, well my fiancé and the dungeon master of The Ropes made it impossible to have fun there at the end. It’s just one of the many reasons I was good with moving across the country.”

  Davidson was perceptive. Connor didn’t need to elaborate. He glanced left at his client and saw understanding. He was just glad he didn’t see pity in Jaxson’s steady gaze.

  “Well fuck ‘em. You’re gonna get the last laugh, aren’t you, since you decided to throw in as an investor with us.”

  “Sorry?” Connor wasn’t following.

  Jaxson grinned. “If I have it my way, we’ll be putting the asshole out of business within a year.” The good-natured slap on his back told Connor he’d made the right choice in coming tonight. He’d mourned Cheryl’s betrayal long enough. He had this perfect club only a few minutes from his townhouse with a stable of available submissives. He could play the field. Experiment. Starting tonight.

  The thought was still running through his head as he and Davidson made their way through the crowd, shaking hands with several of the members there to observe for the night.

  Senators. Actors. Businessmen. Judges. Even one ambassador. Davidson greeted them all by name, introducing Connor as his lawyer and friend.

  As they neared the stage, the energy level changed. To the left of the stage, a group of men and a few women had gathered. Jaxson nodded in that direction. “That’s where the Dom’s are gathering to await the firing squad.” When Connor didn’t answer, Jax chuckled. “You really need to lighten up and have some fun. Look at that pool of sexy submissives over there at stage right. How can you not be a little excited at the idea of dominating one of them?”

  Connor turned his attention to the group of nervous looking women gathering at the bottom of the three stairs that would soon take them onto the stage. Several small groups chatted excitedly, obviously friends, but a couple of the women stood alone, nervous smiles on their faces.

  “I’m gonna go up and talk with Chase and Emma for a few minutes before we get started. Good luck, my friend.” Jaxson patted him on the back in the universal ‘atta boy sign.

  He had just spotted a leggy brunette in the group of submissives. He took a minute imagining her wrapping those long legs around his waist as he pounded into her.

  “Yeah, maybe this isn’t going to be so bad after all.”

  His comment still hung in the air when the tall brunette moved to reveal the petite wisp of a submissive standing behind her, a look of trepidation on her face. In that one second, his night went to shit.

  “Fucking hell. She can’t be here.”

  He took off at an almost run, pushing and shoving his way through the crowd, desperate to get to her and hustle her out of the club before the event began. She didn’t belong here.

  The closer he got to the group of waiting submissives, the more congested the crowd was. He had to push his way through getting more than one, “Hey, watch it there, buddy.”

  “Sorry. Excuse me.” He kept his eyes on her as he got closer. She hadn’t seen him yet. She was too busy watching a submissive on her knees sucking her Dom off in the front row of the spectator’s gallery to notice him until it was too late.

  He came up behind her, grabbing her biceps tightly as he leaned down to talk against her ear. “Don’t make a scene. We’re leaving. Right now.”

  She wriggled to free herself, but it was pointless. He could squish her like a bug if he wanted to.

  “Let go of me! You can’t make me leave, Connor.”

  “The hell I can’t, Gabby. You don’t belong here.”

  “How do you know that? You’ve been gone eight years. You don’t know shit about me.”

  “I know this. You’re not staying.”

/>   “Is there a problem here, Lambert?”

  It was Davidson crowding in next to them. “Yes, there is. Miss Castle doesn’t belong here. She needs to leave. Now.”

  He’d expected Jaxson to move into action, helping him escort Gabriella to the door so when the club owner looked between the two of them silently, it gave her the chance to lift her high heel and jam it down on his dress shoe.

  “Fuck! That hurt, Gabriella.”

  He lost his grip on her, allowing her to turn around and shove at his chest. “Good! You deserved it.”

  Davidson wasn’t the only one that leaned close. One of the burly dungeon monitors flanked them on the other side.

  “Let’s move into one of the semi-private rooms near the door and sort this out, shall we?”

  Gabriella’s “No” clashed with his own “Yes.”

  She quickly found she had no power to say no. With three dominant men much larger and stronger than her, she wisely turned, huffing as she followed the DM who took the lead. They had to maintain a single file line as they weaved to the nearest small room.

  Upon their arrival, Gabriella moved as far as she could into the room before turning to face off with the men blocking the entrance to the space. The lighting was dim, making it harder for him to see her expressive eyes, but even he could make out the visual daggers she was throwing his way.

  “Why don’t you tell me what’s going on, Lambert.”

  “She can’t be here.”

  “I’m afraid I’m going to need a few more details than that. Why can’t she be here?”

  “She’s too young,” he argued.

  Gabriella snort-laughed at his assertion, but Jaxson sounded alarmed. “Christ, she’s under age? How the hell did that happen?”

  Gabby had the nerve to grin at him, crossing her arms over her ample chest that was close to falling out of the too-tight dress she was wearing. “Tell him Connor. Am I under age?”

  Her cocky behavior had him flustered. “You know exactly what I mean. You are...”

  “What? Too young and inexperienced? Will you make up your mind? I thought I was nothing but a troublemaker, only interested in sowing my wild oats. Well what better way to do that than exploring my sexuality in a safe and sane way here at Black Light.”