Knights of the Boardroom

by Avery Gale

  Six months after Cressida had come on board, they’d introduced her to the decorator they’d contacted. They had simply instructed her to decorate it as if it were her own and then let her have free rein. Lawton could still remember seeing the gleam of knowledge in Jeffrey’s eye when he and Brodie introduced the two of them. Jeffrey and his partner, Master Marco, had been among the first members of The Knight’s Club. Both owned extremely lucrative businesses, Jeffrey’s design house contracted with many of the city’s oldest and wealthiest families and according to Marco, J as he was called at the club, was quickly building a client base among Broadway’s up and coming stars. Brodie had helped Jeffrey refine his contracts in exchange for him working with Cressida rather than the owners themselves.

  Before the project was completed, Jeffrey had begged to pay for the contract work because he swore spending time with “Cressi-baby” was a joy not a job and he didn’t feel right about the deal they’d made. Lawton wasn’t sure how that particular discussion had ended because he’d left the room when Brodie threatened to call Master Marco.

  “Where the fuck did you just go?” Brodie’s teasing tone let Lawton know he must have completely zoned out—a habit he’d had since he was a small child. Once he started thinking about something, everything else faded into the background.

  “I was thinking about Jeffrey and Cressida working together decorating this floor and how much that huge ass vase probably cost us, so don’t break it. According to J, it was one of Cressida’s favorite ‘finds’.” The damned thing was at least three feet tall and decorated in a floral pattern Law recognized from his art history classes in college as Impressionist—probably painted to look like a Monet. It was also teetering precariously on the table Brodie was leaning against.

  “Jesus Christ, I know exactly what everybody thinks when they look at that ridiculous mass of porcelain. Impressionist masters did not paint fucking vases. I’ll bet this was copied from some poster purchased in the Metropolitan Museum’s gift shop, Jeffrey could have another one just like it up here by noon tomorrow if this one crashed and burned.” Law was relieved Brodie seemed to be relaxing enough for his sense of humor to resurface. No doubt their visit to Cressida’s apartment had been strangely intense, but something about her easy acceptance of them as her Doms stirred questions in his mind. Her easy acquiescence at their declaration that they’d be training her made Law wonder if perhaps Brodie had been right, and she’d wanted them all along, but had been too intimidated to ask.

  Evidently Brodie had already reached the same conclusion, “I see the lightbulb finally switched on.” Law snorted his derision, then reluctantly nodded as Brodie continued, “She didn’t seem all that surprised—it was more like she was surprised to have gotten what she wanted. I don’t really know how to explain it, but I think there is a part of me that simply recognized the emotion, because I remember feeling that way one Christmas. I’d wanted this elaborate fucking train set and my parents had repeatedly told me it was too much, they didn’t want to devote an entire room to trains, and other such excuses. So when I opened the train box Christmas morning, I wasn’t surprised by what was inside, but I was certainly surprised to have gotten it.”

  As strange as it sounded, Law understood what his friend had just described. “I agree, but quite frankly, I think—if we’re right—it raises some fairly significant issues.”

  “Yes, it does indeed. But I’m tired and desperately in need of a cold shower—damn.” Brodie’s words once again echoed exactly what Law was thinking, they’d need to sort it all out, but it didn’t need to be tackled tonight.

  Lawton nodded and straightened from the opposing wall he’d been leaning against. He knew the next day was going to seem interminable, but the project deserved all of his focus so he set aside the niggling in the back of his mind that something had been amiss with Cressida tonight. They would see her again Saturday morning and that would be soon enough to start the delicate process of binding her to them forever.

  Chapter Seven

  What is that damnable racket? I swear, if Carli is playing some blasted screeching opera I’m going to strangle her. Cressi felt like she was walking through a dense fog—lost. Maybe that’s some sort of signal I’m supposed to follow. By the time she realized it was her alarm clock the crazy thing had kicked over to round two and switched to an even more annoying tone. When she couldn’t find the button to silence the offensive device, she simply batted it off the table. Landing upside down on the small rug by her bed hadn’t silence it, but it had muffled it enough Cressi no longer felt as if the sound waves were going to cause her head to explode. Rolling over, she realized she must have gotten hot during the night and kicked free from the covers that Brodie and Law—oh my God! Bolting upright in one quick move made her head spin and that’s when she realized she was naked as the day she was born. Slapping her palm against her forehead in humiliation proved to be a monumental error in judgement because now she could add pounding to spinning and for a few seconds she thought her head might actually split in two.

  Holy hell, she hadn’t been sick in two years—not once had she missed a day of work because she’d been ill and she wasn’t about to break that record today. Forcing herself to get to her feet, she took stock of herself and finally conceded that she did indeed feel awful, but it was probably just a head cold—no need to waste a day of sick leave for something she could just medicate. When she set her alarm back on the small table beside her bed, she had a moment of pure panic when she realized what time it was, but then her boss telling her that she wasn’t to go in to the office before ten drifted up from the dark recesses of her memory.

  Showering and dressing robbed all of her focus, ensuring that Cressi wasn’t going to get the chance to consider all the implications of Lawton’s and Brodie’s late evening visit—well, at least until she was feeling better. When she picked up her purse from her desk, she noticed the email icon blinking on her ancient home computer screen. Clicking the icon, she took a drink of her coffee and glared at the email message slowly filling the screen. Whoever Master D was, he obviously hadn’t gotten the hint when she’d told him last week she wasn’t interested in his private assistance. He’d been one of only a handful of people she’d interacted with in the chatroom, she had rarely posted questions and had certainly never given out any of her private information. He was the only one who had continued contacting her even after she’d quit the group. Cressi had become uncomfortable when he had started asking her personal questions, and she was more than a little uneasy knowing he’d somehow managed to get her personal email address. Maybe he was one of the administrators of the group? She briefly wondered if she should report him to the website, but she needed to get going so she just closed the program and tried to shake off her growing sense of foreboding. She’d deal with it later when she felt better, after all, he’d only reminded her that his offer to answer her questions still stood and asked why she’d deleted her account. Now that she thought about it, he probably was one of those group administrators who had to find out why people left the group. She’d figure out some sort of evasive answer later and put an end to his questions once and for all.

  By the time she made it to her office, Cressi was soaked to the skin and freezing. As hot as she’d been last night, it seemed a cruel twist of fate she’d been forced to walk through the pouring rain and now she felt like a damned penguin who’d just enjoyed a nice dip in the frigid waters off the coast of Antarctica. She tried to focus on the few tasks she had left for today, but by four o’clock she had barely managed to make the revisions to one contract. She’d answered email questions that needed immediate attention and hoped she hadn’t come across sounding like a complete dope. She’d put aside anything requiring any real concentration, those tasks was simply going to have to wait. Making her way down the crowded street, Cressi was grateful the rain had finally slowed to a drizzle since the raincoat she’d worn earlier in the day was still too damp to provide any real protection
from the elements. She nearly got decked when she opened the door to the small corner pharmacy, but she finally managed to make her way inside and grabbed a small shopping basket before making her way to the aisle with the cold and flu medications.

  *****

  Parker Daniels sat at the stop light drumming his fingers along the top of the steering wheel of his Jaguar XF wondering whether or not to go downstairs to the club when he got home or just call Tristan and have him send one of his usual play partners up to his apartment later. One of the perks of living in the same building as the kink club he’d co-founded was his easy access to subs when he needed to blow off some steam. His security business had been growing by leaps and bounds, and while he appreciated the venture’s success, often there simply wasn’t enough of him to go around. He knew he needed to hire more help, but he was having trouble getting it done when he was continually putting out fires his celebrity clients seemed to light with alarming frequency. What possessed people to mistakenly assume their public notoriety meant they could behave like irresponsible teenagers was a mystery to Parker—hell, half the time he felt like he and his staff were nothing more than well paid babysitters.

  He needed to get the extra staff hired soon or he was going to burn out and end up a bitter old man before he turned forty—which was coming far more quickly than he wanted to think about. Sure he had a couple of years before he needed to worry too much about that particular milestone, but he sure as hell wasn’t getting any younger and his best friend was continually reminding him they needed to spend time dating or they were never going to find a woman to spend their lives with. Tristan had complained just last week about some damned clock ticking and how they weren’t getting any younger and he didn’t want to be raising a family from his room in assisted living—hell, weren’t women the ones who were supposed to be worried about that shit?

  Sighing, he decided he’d make an effort to sort through the stack of applications on his desk and call in a few people for interviews next week. He’d also fallen behind on the growing list of applicants for The Knight’s Club, he personally performed those background checks. As the most exclusive kink club in New York City, their personal guarantee of privacy was a huge selling point for membership fees that started in the upper range of six-figures.

  Glancing to the side, Parker noticed a small pharmacy on the corner, he decided to pull over and stock up on “supplies” just in case he decided on a private party rather than playing downstairs in the club. Parking along York Avenue was ordinarily a nightmare, so Parker considered finding a spot right in front of the small drugstore a sign his evening might actually be looking up. Stepping out of his car, he watched as a familiar looking figure struggled to open the store’s heavy glass door until she was nearly knocked to the ground by a man exiting. The asshole had been wearing a suit that had probably set him back five grand and he hadn’t had enough class to check on the woman he’d sent reeling backward. Hell, it had been a wonder she’d managed to recover enough to slip inside the store before the heavy door slid back closed.

  He’d gotten a good enough look at her to confirm who she was and that she didn’t look at all well. What the hell was Cressida Walker doing out alone in this condition? Pulling his phone from his pocket, he fired off a quick text to the men he’d bet had no idea where their wayward sub was or that she was in no condition to be out alone.

  Parker: Do you know where your sub is?

  A woman that sick was far too distracted to keep herself safe—hell, she hadn’t even noticed him standing just a few feet from her.

  Parker wasn’t surprised to receive an answer so quickly, even though he knew they were on their way back to the Templar building after successfully closing a contract they’d been working on for months. When he’d spoken with them earlier they’d mentioned shopping with Cressida tomorrow morning—didn’t look like that was going to happen now.

  Lawton: No. She’d already left the office when we called a few minutes ago. Something about an appointment according to reception. Why?

  Naturally Lawton had been the one to respond to the message even though Parker had sent it to both men, no doubt Brodie was driving—the controlling bastard always had to be the one behind the wheel unless they were using a company car, then Sawyer accompanied them. Sawyer was the only member of T.E.G.’s security team Brodie trusted and Parker bet the former Navy SEAL wondered whether or not that was a compliment or a curse.

  Parker: What’s your ETA home?

  Lawton: Ten—WHY?

  Parker had been thrilled when Tristan mentioned their friends had finally been painted into a corner where their lovely executive assistant was concerned. They’d been lusting after her since the moment they’d hired her and hopefully now he and Tristan wouldn’t have to listen to Law’s endless strategizing and Brodie’s complaints about his best friend stalling. The two had known since college they wanted a polyamorous relationship, and once Cressida Walker entered their lives, they’d known she was the one they wanted between them. His friends had barely noticed another woman after hiring the pretty petite brunette. Oh, they’d played at the club, but they had rarely seen a woman socially and, if Parker was betting, he’d wager they hadn’t fucked one outside the club in over a year. Yeah, they had it bad for the pretty little sub.

  Parker: Hang on a sec.

  Parker walked in to the store and easily managed to get close enough to Cressida he could have reached out and touched her before she’d even noticed he was there. Damn, he’d been able to get far too close and she hadn’t even realized she was being observed. Cressida had been staring at the shelf in front of her with a strangely vacant look on her face, and weaving so badly, Parker had actually wondered for a minute if she’d been drinking until he realized they were standing in front of the cold medications. When she’d taken a step to the side giving him room to pass, and he’d heard her hoarsely murmured apology, he realized she hadn’t even recognized him.

  When she reached forward grasping the shelf to keep from falling, he instinctively caught her elbow, “Cressi?” He’d deliberately softened his tone and used the nickname he knew she preferred hoping he wouldn’t frighten her. When she looked up at him her eyes were unfocused and confused, her nose was bright red and her cheeks flushed with fever. It was easy to see she was struggling just to breathe and he wondered for a minute if he shouldn’t just call an ambulance. As soon as she recognized him, she gave him a faint smile before turning to look back at the products she probably hoped would send her into a drug-fogged escape from whatever virus she’d succumbed to.

  “Sweetness, why are you out and about alone when you are obviously not well?” Since he’d done the original background check on her prior to her interview and he’d recently taken on her sister as a client, he knew she shared a spacious apartment with Carli. Of course her globetrotting older sister was rarely home, but according to the tabloids on every fucking newsstand in the city, Carli Walker had been spotted arriving at JFK just two days earlier. “Cressi, why isn’t your sister picking up supplies for you?” Her Royal High and Mighty, Princess Carli probably couldn’t be bothered to help her younger sister. God forbid someone should snap the supermodel’s picture looking less than totally put together or doing something as mundane as buying a bottle of cough syrup.

  Parker had met Carli recently when her agent contacted Templar Security about beefing up her security after a couple of recent breaches—they’d been minor in nature, but everyone but the victim herself feared the situation would escalate. Their face to face meeting had been limited to passing one another in the hallway as she’d been rushing to a photo shoot—she’d all but ignored him and if Parker was honest, his anger had been more about the feeling of rejection than it had been about her being rude. Her agent had apologized profusely, insisting the young woman had almost an obsessive-compulsive need to be on time, but that didn’t fit any other celebrity Parker had ever met, so he’d discounted his explanation. But Parker certainly hadn’t dis
counted his gut feeling the notes and calls Carli had been getting were just the tip of a looming iceberg, so they would be meeting again soon—the challenge was going to be keeping his head in the game, because if there was ever a woman in need of a good paddling, it was Carli Walker.

  Bringing his thoughts back to the sweet woman who seemed to have finally turned her attention to him, but the vacant look in her eyes told Parker she wasn’t really seeing anything. When he raised a brow, letting her know he was waiting for her response, she finally blinked several times before he heard her hoarse whisper, “I’m sorry, Parker, would you repeat the question, please? I seem to have spaced out for a minute.”

  Yeah—you and me both, sweetness. “You live with your sister, right?” When she nodded slowly, he continued, “I asked you why she isn’t taking care of you. It isn’t safe for you to be out alone when you are obviously ill.”

  “Rio.”