The Bondage Club
Page 9
* * *
It was late in the afternoon when Cary returned to the office. Hunter was in the middle of a phone call with one of their distributors.
“Elliot, I understand that the tracking number was lost,” Hunter said as Cary had a seat at her desk. For some reason the sight of the woman coming into his office immediately made him forget what he was saying. “No…what was that?” he asked, rubbing his hand over his face. “I needed to know when another box of books could be sent out. We’ve already missed the debut date and that has cost me sales, Elliot.” Out of the corner of his eye he saw her open her laptop. “Yes, send out another shipment and…look, let me call you back. Just get the shipment out today so I can tell the bookstores something.” She was twirling a lock of her hair about her finger, causing his stomach to flip. “Just handle it, Elliot,” he barked and then abruptly hung up the phone.
When he pivoted his eyes across the office, she was intently reading something on her laptop. For a fleeting moment Hunter was lost in the way the light from the window behind his desk lit up her face.
I’ve got to stop this.
“Did you get the cover done?” He struggled to make his voice sound a little deeper and more dictatorial than usual.
“We’ve got three potential covers for her to choose from.”
He got up from his desk. “Let me take a look.”
When he went to her side of the office, the aroma of her perfume hit him, inciting that insidious tingle in his belly. He came around to the back of her desk and pointed to her laptop. “Show me what you’ve got.”
Cary hit a few buttons on her keyboard and pulled up three possible covers, lined up side to side.
Angling over her desk, Hunter’s eyes scanned the images. Three mock covers, each with a scantily clad woman in handcuffs and a beefed up man in the shadows, were displayed on the computer screen. The covers were provocative and alluded to the story, but they lacked something Hunter could not quite put his finger on.
“Maybe that one.” He pointed to the middle picture of a leggy blonde leaning against a man with bulky muscles bulging beneath his dark suit. “But it needs more polish,” he insisted.
Cary patted the computer screen. “I think these are good. She’ll like them.”
“We need something stellar to launch this book. You should work on them some more.”
Cary flopped back in her chair. “What? Now?”
He returned to his desk; the sensation in his belly was becoming unbearable. “Why not now?”
“Well, I wanted to leave a little early,” she disclosed.
Hunter flung his body into his chair and winced when his butt hit the hard seat. “Why do you want to leave early?”
“I, ah…have plans.”
His eyes swerved to her. “Plans?”
“Yeah, with…a friend.”
Hunter’s skin crawled with dread. “What friend?”
“Well, it’s actually kind of a date.”
Hunter sat back in his chair, gritting his teeth. “A date? I see.” He ran his hand over his mouth as his gut twisted. “You go on then. We can hit it first thing in the morning.”
She gave him a radiant smile, adding to his displeasure. “Thanks.” Reaching for a drawer in her desk, she added, “I hope you don’t mind.”
Sitting back, Hunter saw the glint of excitement in her eyes and was crestfallen that it wasn’t for him. “Is this a boyfriend?”
Her body sagged slightly. “Not a boyfriend, no,” she answered, avoiding his gaze.
When she pulled a drawer out from the bottom of her desk, Hunter bubbled with questions about the man. What did he do? Where did he come from? Would he keep his hands off her during their evening together? Feeling like a high school boy with a crush, he choked back his interrogation and focused his attention on his computer.
“I’d better head on home.” She slung the strap of her purse over her shoulder. “You know how us girls need time to get ready,” she joked.
But Hunter wasn’t laughing. The idea of Cary getting ready to go out with another man was disturbing him more than he could understand.
She stopped at the doorway and turned back to him. “See you in the morning.”
“Sure,” Hunter mumbled. “See you then.”
After she had gone, Hunter sat at his desk, staring at his computer screen and seething. He knew he should not even be considering a relationship with his employee, but the kiss they had shared still lingered with him. And the concept that she could so easily kiss him and move on to another man the next day only added to his outrage. Maybe he should have spoken up, talked her out of her date. But then he visualized that confrontation, and the awkward emotions it generated instantly made him regret the idea.
He rested his elbows on his desk and placed his face in his hands as his curiosity gnawed at him. I have got to get a grip. Find some way to distract myself this evening. He placed his hand on the keyboard of his laptop and scrolled down his e-mails until he came to Kathleen’s. Eyeing the invitation, his lips slowly curled into a devious grin.
“Yeah,” he whispered. “That sounds like just what I need.”
Chapter 7
After knocking back two shots of vodka, Hunter decided it would be better to walk in the chilly night air than drive to the gallery. Located a few blocks down Walker Street from his building, he figured he could just take a casual tour about the gallery, say hello to Kathleen, and then return home for the night and bury his restless mind in another manuscript.
As he strolled along the cracked pavement toward the gallery, his thoughts kept migrating back to Cary. He considered what it was about the woman that was driving him mad. Sure she was adorable, had a sparkling personality, and if she had not been his employee, he might have considered taking her out. Though she was a far cry from his usual type—long legs, blonde hair, and a vacuous personality—he could not narrow his attraction to her down to one specific thing. If he had met her in a bar, he would have probably passed her over for another. But ever since the day she had walked into his office, he had felt something different for her. Never before had he felt so possessive of a woman he barely knew.
“I’m turning into my brother,” he softly grumbled as the gray, one story building of the Marcia Wood Gallery loomed just ahead.
He reached a small group of people gathered outside of the entrance who were eagerly puffing away on cigarettes, making him hold his breath as he walked through the cloud of smoke.
Inside, the gallery smelled of stale air-conditioning, sweaty people, and a faint trace of chemicals. Attired in everything from black dresses to blue jeans, the gallery was already thick with guests. The main showroom was composed of four white walls, covered with black and white framed photographs. The hardwood floors shined beneath the overhead spotlights placed strategically about the room. Doorways to the right and left led deeper into the gallery. Hunter searched the sea of faces but saw no one he knew. He progressed to the side of the room and glimpsed the photographs on the wall.
Most were shots of various sites around Atlanta, but contrasting against the shiny steel high rises or bright lights of Five Corners were the images of homeless people. The photos were meant to show the contrast between wealth and poverty, with the gleaming structures of downtown setting the backdrop for intimate portraits of the homeless problem that plagued many big cities.
Hunter shook his head, recalling how Kathleen had first become interested in taking pictures of homeless people. They had been living in a crappy apartment where vagrants were an everyday obstacle one needed to walk over to get to the entrance of their building. Kathleen had snapped several pictures, hoping that a photograph with a homeless person in it would attract attention. Since then, she had made a fortune taking pictures of the homeless in cities across America. What bugged Hunter was that Kathleen had never meant to help the plight of the homeless, but merely to capitalize on their misfortune. For Kathleen, it was never about doing what was good; it was about
doing what netted her the most money.
His mind drifted back to the fights about bills, the heated arguments about getting more allowance from his father, and the too numerous references she had made to his family’s wealth. But when his father finally ordered him to work for Donovan Books, Kathleen had been less than thrilled. By the time he had signed the papers on his trendy new condo, she had moved in with a well-known plastic surgeon from Decatur who had promised to make Kathleen his wife. Hunter had been hurt, but not surprised by her sudden departure. Somehow he had always known that she would leave him.
“You made it,” a woman’s velvety voice said, intruding on his memories.
Hunter spun around to see Kathleen, carrying a flute of champagne in her hand and sporting a tight black dress that cut across her slender thighs and accentuated her long legs. Her brown hair was teased and swept into a trendy coif. Her brown eyes were already shining from too much alcohol, and her red lipstick was smeared about her lips; a sure sign of all the kisses she had been depositing on the cheeks of her many friends.
“Hello, Kat.” He kissed her cheek. “Everything looks great.”
She held up her champagne glass. “Another smash, so Frank tells me. Haven’t gotten the reviews yet, but he assures me it will go over well.”
Hunter glanced about the room. “Where is your boyfriend?”
She held out her left hand. “Fiancé now.”
Hunter inspected the large diamond ring on the third finger of her left hand. “When did this happen?”
Kathleen took another sip of her champagne. “After the other night, when I left your place. I was really pissed at you, and he called me wondering where I was. So I told him the truth. I told him I had slept with you.” She tossed her head back, laughing. “He was always jealous as shit of you, but that sent him over the edge. The next morning he showed up at my door and gave me this.” She flaunted the ring in his face. “Told his wife it was over and filed for divorce the same day.”
Hunter skeptically eyed the ring. “He has said that to you before.”
“Well, this time he means it. His wife moved out of their downtown condo this morning and went to their house in Dunwoody. He told me I can move in whenever I want.” She admired the ring on her hand. “I have you to thank for it. If you hadn’t got me so mad, I might never have told him about us.”
“Glad I could help,” he jested, shaking his head. The remark was just what he would have expected from her. “If he is what you want, Kat, then I’m happy for you,” he added.
“What I want?” She let out a cold snicker. “It’s more like what I need, Hunter. Someone who wants to build my career, that’s what I need. Frank will do that. Right now he is in the back with a guy from a gallery in New York. He’s trying to get me a gig there.” She squealed with delight. “Can you imagine? My pictures being shown in New York?” She thoughtfully cocked her head to the side. “I’ve gone as far as I can go in Atlanta, but to really make it you have to be in New York. Frank promised he would get me there.”
“That’s great, Kat.”
Her face softened and she patted the sleeve of his blue jacket. “Thanks, baby. That means a lot. It means a lot that you came, too. It wouldn’t be an opening without you, Hunter.” She laughed, spilling a drop or two of champagne from her glass onto the brightly polished floor. “I was just telling Chris how we used to always—”
“Chris is here?” Hunter interrupted.
“Yeah. I thought you knew.” She pointed to the doorway on her left. “He’s here with a date. Some mousy thing. But then again, your brother always liked them small and helpless.”
He turned to the doorway as an uncomfortable burning rose in his stomach. “I’ll be back, Kat.” Without another word, Hunter made his way across the room.
Standing at the entrance to the second showroom, his eyes scoured the crowd for his brother. It did not take long to find him. Dressed in a black suit, he was standing in a corner and admiring a photograph on the wall in front of him. There was a woman next to him with her back to Hunter. She had short brown hair and was wearing a tight black cocktail dress with high black heels. Inching his way into the room, he kept his eyes on his brother, hoping to get a glimpse of his date. Then, just as he was a few feet away, the woman turned. Her brown eyes flickered when she saw him, and then shot to the ground.
“Cary?” Hunter’s voice cracked when he stood before her.
“Hey, Hunts,” Chris taunted. “I see you found us.”
Hunter’s eyes never left Cary. “Chris is your date?”
She fidgeted with the black clutch purse in her hand. “I didn’t want to say anything to you before.”
“You son of a bitch,” Hunter raised his voice to his brother. “I thought you said you weren’t going to ask her out.”
“I never said that.” Chris placed a protective arm about Cary’s shoulders. “I explained to Cary that you weren’t happy about the arrangement and asked her not to say anything. I knew it would only piss you off.” He held up the old-fashioned glass in his hand. “And I was right.” Chris sipped from his drink.
Hunter scrutinized his brother’s flushed cheeks and glassy eyes. “Are you drunk?”
Chris grinned. “Of course not.”
Hunter turned to Cary. “How many has he had?”
“Hunter, please,” Cary begged. “Lower your voice.”
“You’re not getting in a car with him, Cary,” Hunter affirmed.
Chris snorted. “To hell she isn’t.”
Hunter inched closer to his brother. “You brought her here knowing I would show up, didn’t you?”
Chris pushed him back. “Get out of my face.”
Cary forced her way between the two men. “Stop it, both of you.” She took in the people around them. “You’re attracting too much attention.”
Chris lifted his glass to his brother. “Oh, Hunts just loves attention. He’s been fighting for it all of our lives.”
“Shut up,” Hunter snarled.
Cary grabbed Chris’s arm. “Let’s get out of here.”
But Chris refused to budge and pushed her hand away. “No, I think you need to hear my little brother’s life story. He’s quite the failure, did you know that?” Chris swung back around to Hunter. “Ever since we were kids, he’s failed at everything he has ever tried. He even failed our mother. He couldn’t take care of her when she needed him most.”
“That’s enough,” Cary snapped.
“Hey, what’s going on?” Kathleen demanded, coming up to them. “I could hear you two shouting from the other room.”
“There’s his biggest failure.” Chris flourished a hand over Kathleen’s figure. “Did you know my brother blew it with this fine creature? Didn’t even put up a fight when she ran off with another guy.”
“What is wrong with you?” Kathleen said to Chris.
Hunter stood next to her. “He’s drunk.”
“I’m not drunk,” Chris argued.
Kathleen pointed at Chris. “Get him out of here. I can’t afford a scene; especially with the guy from New York here.”
Chris laughed out loud, making a few heads in the room turn his way. “Finally shooting for the big time. Lord knows you’ve been at it long enough, Kat.”
Kathleen’s brown eyes tore into Hunter.
“All right.” Hunter yanked on Chris’s arm. “We’re going.”
“No, we’re not,” Chris bellowed.
The entire room around them went quiet. Kathleen’s eyes darted about the guests and she hooked her hand about Chris’s arm. “Time to go, Chris,” she declared, urging him toward the doorway to the main showroom.
Chris gave in to Kathleen and allowed her to escort him across the room. Hunter took a firm hold of Cary’s elbow and followed right behind Kathleen and Chris.
“We’ll get Chris a cab, and then I’m taking you home,” Hunter whispered in her ear.
“Leave me, alone.” Cary shirked off his hand and walked ahead of him.
“Sorry about that,” he told her. “You know how he gets when he drinks.”
Kathleen shook her head, appearing more disgusted than mad. “No, this is how he gets when he’s around you. You two could never stand to be in the same room together. Just make sure he doesn’t drive home, Hunter.”
Hunter kissed her cheek. “Thanks, Kat.”
The displeasure retreated from her eyes and she patted the sleeve of his blue jacket. “I like the spunky brunette. But I get the feeling she’s more your type than your brother’s.”
He brushed off her comment. “She’s my employee, Kat,” he defended in a curt tone.
“She’s more than that, Hunter. I saw the way you were looking at her. You only get that flicker of interest in your eyes when something or someone turns you on.” Kathleen viewed the entrance. “Better see to Chris before he makes a bigger ass of himself.”
Hunter wanted to tell her that she was wrong about Cary, but instead of debating the point, he walked away. What Kathleen believed no longer mattered to him, and that realization took him by surprise. She had always been the reason for the hole in his heart that no amount of long-legged blondes could fill. Now the hole was gone, satiated by another, but instead of being appeased, he was terrified. Then, a more compelling notion hit him. If Kathleen was aware of his feelings for Cary, he wondered if Chris had noticed, too.
And do you think Cary knows? The question cut through his heart like an executioner’s sword.
Clenching his fists, he ignored the aggravating voice in his head. He had bigger things to worry about.
Outside of the gallery, he found Cary dragging Chris through the throng of smokers to the sidewalk. As he approached Cary’s side, he noted the way Chris’s arm was slung over her shoulders, causing his jealousy to bubble to the surface.