Behind the desk is a huge oil painting we found on one of our trips by an obscure French artist. I gasp in pleasure when I see it, absolutely floored by its beauty. I forget the bathroom and run over to it and stroke my fingers over the intricate black-and-patina scrolled frame. “Wow. Brandon, the space is perfect, it’s even more spectacular than I remember.”
“It is. Thank you for convincing me it was exactly right,” Brandon says from behind me.
“Who’s the artist?” Layla asks.
“Gaston Lamar.” I stand back to marvel at the work in its entirety. It’s a nude, of a woman on a chaise, her lover in dark shadows. The only thing visible is his strong hand entwined over the delicate cords of her throat. She’s looking at him, her expression full of rapture and just a hint of fear. As soon as I saw the piece hanging there I’d known it was perfect. Not only did it have a distinct Dom/sub vibe, I wanted to sit there and stare at it for hours.
That’s how I always know a piece is good. When I don’t want to look away. When I want to get lost in its beauty. When I think about it throughout my day, longing to see it again.
“Why did you need convincing?” Layla asked, and I can hear the awe in her voice. “It’s stunning.”
Brandon chuckles and I finally tear myself away from the piece.
I roll my eyes at Layla. “He wanted vintage pornography.”
Layla raises a brow. “This is better.”
“Of course it is,” I say, flipping my hair.
Brandon shrugs one shoulder. “When I’m wrong, I’m wrong. I had a vision of what I wanted, but when it comes to art, Jillian is always right.”
I wag my finger at him. “And don’t you forget it.”
Brandon grins at me. “Baby doll, you did get paid.”
I did. Quite well. For the very first time I’d been paid for real art dealer work. When I got the check, I’d been like a little kid, dancing around the condo I share with Leo like a lunatic, screaming in delight while Leo grinned at me, completely amused by my antics.
I don’t believe in hiding my emotions.
Of course, I could have done something practical with the money, like invest it, but that’s not really my style. I have plenty of time to save, but this was special so I’d taken my fiancé away for a long weekend in Mexico and paid for the whole thing, much to Leo’s pretend griping.
I wink at Brandon. “I’m worth every penny.”
“That you are.” Brandon straightens and sighs. “I’ve got to get back to it, you girls be good in here.”
“We will,” Layla and I parroted at the same time.
He narrows his eyes. “I don’t trust you.”
Layla did her sweet, innocent act on him. “I’m always good.”
“Me too,” I say, mimicking her tone.
Brandon shakes his head. “You’re little deviants.”
We laugh and he takes his leave, closing the door behind us.
We take turns in the bathroom, but then instead of going back to the main bar we plop down on Brandon’s brown leather furniture. Furniture that’s clearly designed for fucking, with all its curved lines, and interesting angles. Layla points again to the picture. “You’ve really outdone yourself.”
“Isn’t it gorgeous? Is it wrong that I kind of want to steal it?”
Layla laughs. “I’ll help.”
We grin at each other, and then Layla glances toward the door and a cloud passes over her face. She clears her throat. “Do you think I was wrong to invite Ruby?”
I’ve always liked Layla’s best friend. Although the two women couldn’t be more opposite. Layla is stunning in a very classical way. The art masters would have had a field day with her. She’s also traditional. Ruby, on the other hand, is a gorgeous little rocker girl that, from what I understand from Layla, wants no part of mainstream life.
Whenever we’ve gone out as a group, it’s always been in regular circumstances, normal dinners, dancing, bar hopping and the like. Circumstances where Leo and Michael aren’t in your face about their dominant natures. This is the first time where all our depravity is right out there for the world to see.
Ruby is uncomfortable. That’s obvious. I hadn’t missed that she wanted to interrupt the interplay between Michael and Layla, or that she hadn’t liked what she’d witnessed. I saw Chad stop her. I understood she hadn’t realized what was really going on between them, but to me, it had seemed clear it hadn’t been bad.
I run my hand over the leather couch. “I don’t know. Why’d you bring her?”
Layla shakes her head, blowing out a breath. “I think she’s curious, more than curious actually.”
My eyes widen. That’s not a vibe I’d picked up on, but on the other hand, she’d agreed to come along. “Why do you think that?”
“The questions she asks. The way she watches Michael and Leo. Michael says she’ll need to figure it out on her own, and maybe I’m projecting. Assigning meaning when there isn’t one. I don’t know.”
I wrinkle my nose, remembering those first conversations with Leo about what he was, that now seem a lifetime ago. He’d told me I had to figure things out on my own. “Leo said something similar to me once, and it didn’t go over well. Sometimes you need a little more of a push. Have you tried talking to her?”
Layla nods. “Yeah, a couple times, but she insists she can’t imagine why I’d ever let a man do that to me. So there’s not much I can do.”
I use to think that. I shudder. Thinking of this morning, moaning and panting over Leo’s knee. I was wrong.
But that doesn’t mean that Ruby is wrong too. I narrow my eyes. “Why does it matter? Do you care if she’s into the same things you are?”
Layla shakes her head. “God no. Of course not. I never even told her about John and me, and never thought about it. We’d never even talked about it until Michael. But the more I open up, the more I explain, the more questions she asks. And right now, she just seems… unhappy. Distant.” Layla runs her hands through her hair. “Maybe I’m suffering from role reversal. I’m used to being the difficult, distant one while she’s trying to get me to talk. Maybe that’s all it is.”
“Maybe,” I say, before smiling. “But maybe not.”
Layla glances at the door, as though she’s afraid someone might come in, and then lowers her voice. “Sometimes I catch her watching Michael and me.” Layla bites her lower lip. “And, well, I think I see jealousy there.”
I can understand that. I can’t deny there is something about my brother and Layla. Something captivating. When they walk into a room, eyes linger on them. I smile. “When I was single, I would have been insanely jealous of you and Michael too.”
Layla shrugs. “I don’t want her jealous. I want her happy.”
“And you think some man dominating her will make her happy?”
“No, I’m not saying that.” She blows out a hard breath. “I just sense something.”
I raise a brow. “Is that why Chad’s here?”
Layla laughs. “No! Can you even imagine?”
“Nope.” I can’t. They are polar opposites. While Ruby looks like a renegade, there’s something almost restrained about her. In contrast, Chad looks all American and clean cut, but I’ve seen the guy work it, and he’s as dominant as they come.
Layla continues, “Chad’s here because he’s our friend, he’s part of our little group now. I’m not worried about him. He knows who he is. And, yes, his taste in women might be a little easy for him without the challenge I think he needs, but that’s his business. Ruby is mine.”
“I get it. If Gwen were unhappy, I’d want to help her too.” Gwen Johnson has been my best friend since we were a year old; there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for her. And I do mean anything. I’d move heaven and earth for her if it was in my power. “So what do you think we should do?”
“What can we do?” Layla holds up her hands as though in surrender.
I grin. “At bare minimum we can show her why you’d want a man contr
olling you.”
She grins back. “That’s true. We can show her that, at least until we go into our separate corners.”
“Exactly.” At the thought of tonight’s events I shiver with lust. I’ve already let the nerves slip away for the time being, because I’m beyond excited. And I trust Leo implicitly. He’s been whispering the most depraved things into my ear, sliding his fingers up my legs, commenting on how I’m such a little slut with my drenched thighs.
And it’s just making me hotter. Wetter.
Once I get to wherever he puts me, I’ll be nervous, but for now I’m just letting that fevered pitch take over. Because there’s nothing more I love than that place I go where all sanity shuts off and I’m riding on a wave of blissful, endless ecstasy.
“Perfect,” Layla says. A sly expression slides over her features and she glances toward the door before leaning forward on her chair. “I think we should have a little fun, don’t you?”
I giggle. I so love devious Layla. “Oh yes.”
“I don’t know about you, but I’ve been really put through the paces today.”
We don’t talk details, because of Michael and mine’s unfortunate sibling relationship, but Layla is the only submissive friend I have. And I know from talking to her, that I’m the same for her. She’s the only person who understands, that I can talk to about these things, and I’m so grateful to have her in my life. So I just try not to think too much about the fact that it’s my brother that’s the orchestrator of her madness.
“Me too.” I puff out my lip in a pout. “It’s really not fair.”
“It certainly is not.” Layla tilts her head and her hair flows over her shoulder. “I think it’s only fair we twist the knife a bit, you know, put on a little show for them.”
A huge smile spreads over my lips. “Michael is going to hate that.”
Layla’s features twist into exaggerated sympathy. “Awww, poor baby.”
I roar with laughter. “Let’s go.”
This is going to be so fun.
Ruby
I sit at the table as the three guys talk around me, all apparently in a hell of a good mood.
The only person not having a good time is me.
I’m still reeling from Chad’s revelation. I mean, how can that be? Him of all people? Leo and Michael I get—they have a way about them—but Chad is just an affable, good guy.
How did I end up the only straight-laced person here?
“Ruby?” A male voice rips me from my thoughts.
I blink, finding Michael, Leo and Chad staring at me. I’ve missed something. I frown. “Sorry?”
Chad points at the waitress, a pretty brunette dressed as an angel in all white. “Do you want something to drink?”
I wish I had someone monitoring my drinks. I blink again. Where did that come from? I want no such thing. I don’t want anyone telling me what to do. Ever.
So why did that thought pop into my head? It must be the care in the act. Because I can’t remember the last guy that even opened the door for me.
That must be it.
It’s the care, not the intent.
In a flash of memory, I see my dad, sitting at the table reading his paper, while my mom bustled around him like a happy, little homemaker. It had made me ill. She could have been so much more. Once she’d been a promising violinist, but she’d abandoned all that for my dad.
She’d given up her dreams. Her goals. Her life. So she could do his bidding.
I was not that kind of girl.
“Ruby?” Chad says again. “She’s waiting.”
The girl flutters her lashes at him and gives him a coy, flirty look.
Something thuds in my chest. Something I don’t like and refuse to name.
I clear my throat. “Vodka soda, please.”
“Coming right up.” The angel girl bites her lip and looks at Chad. “My break’s in a couple hours.”
Chad grins at her. “I’m sure you’ll find me if you need something.”
“Oh, I will.” Her tone so full of seduction I have a sudden urge to punch her.
How does she know he’s not my date? That I’m not a contender?
She gives him a hungry once over before turning with a swish of her hips, sashaying off with an exaggerated sway for Chad’s benefit.
That knot sits in my stomach and I pick up a napkin and twist it. I shouldn’t have come. I’m not in the right frame of mind. Instead of something fun and interesting that will appease my curiosity, I’m suffering from a mess of emotions that confuse me.
Maybe I should make up an excuse and go home.
But I can’t do that, Layla will insist on following me and I can’t ruin her night. I know how much she’s looking forward to this.
I’ll slip away when she goes to the private room Brandon arranged for Michael and Layla.
With an escape planned, the tension in my shoulders eases and I blow out a slow breath.
Leo raises a brow at Chad. “She looks promising.”
Chad shrugs, but doesn’t say anything.
“You can ask Brandon what she’s into, he’ll know,” Leo says.
Chad turns his gaze to where the waitress is leaning over the bar, working at the computer. “If I’m interested, I’ll find out myself.”
That queasiness settles in my throat.
I’m not jealous.
I mean, why would I be jealous? I’m not attracted to Chad. But I find that I’m… well, I don’t know what I am. I just had it in my head he’d be the odd man out with me. That while the couples went off and did their kinky things, we’d sit in the corner, drink and have a good laugh at all this nonsense. But it turns out, with the dark-haired bombshell waitress, I could end up sitting here alone.
The notion makes me even more determined to slip out the second Layla and Michael go off for their private escapade.
And speak of the devil.
Layla and Jillian emerge from the crowd now littering the floor, swaying to the music thumping loud over the speakers.
They look exactly right. Exactly like they belong.
Like sex and sin.
Heaven and hell.
People part for them; men stop what they are doing and stare after them, a look of stunned awe on their faces.
I swallow hard.
Michael shakes his head. “That’s trouble.”
“Agreed,” Leo says, his voice amused, but his dark eyes are on Jillian. Hot and possessive.
“What’s it going to be? Should we get them in line now? Or later.” Michael scrubs a hand over his jaw.
“Later. Let’s see what kind of rope they hang themselves with,” Leo says.
Michael nods. “Agreed.”
A man tries to stop Layla, his hand encircling her wrist. She shakes her head and points to the necklace around her throat, a fine, delicate silver chain with a lock and key hanging off it. After all this time the significance of the charm finally registers in my brain. It’s a symbol of ownership. The man nods, and promptly removes his hands.
He gives Jillian the eye, but she flashes her engagement ring, before pointing at the table. At Leo.
The man looks over at us, grins, and raises his glass in a toast.
Leo chuckles. “I almost feel sorry for him.” He crooks his finger at Jillian. “Almost.”
Layla and Jillian continue their slow strut across the room, their hips a provocative sway, their breasts thrust out.
Brandon comes up to the table, props himself up against the couch, and whistles. “Good luck with that.”
Michael and Leo grin at each other.
Layla and Jillian stop in front of their men and plop their evening bags on the table. Layla licks her lips, a sly expression on her face. She’s slicked her mouth with some sort of crimson gloss. She tilts her head toward the dance floor. “Jillian and I want to dance.”
Michael’s gaze cruises over her body. “Are you going to be a good girl?”
“Of course.”
He nod
s. “All right then.”
Now it’s Jillian’s turn and she looks at Leo, the question in her eyes.
He looks right back, saying nothing.
I don’t understand these women. They are strong, assertive, intelligent women, why do they need permission to dance?
Jillian’s brows rise.
Leo’s cocks.
Finally, she rolls her eyes and says, “May I?”
“May you what?” Leo asks, his arm relaxed on the back of the chair.
She puts her hands on her hips. “May I dance with Layla?”
“Yes. Since you asked so pretty.”
She beams at him.
He gives her a once over. “But before you do, since you girls are giving everyone a heart attack, you need something a little more overt to show you’re not available.”
Apparently, in this crowd an engagement ring isn’t enough. I swallow hard. Feeling lost and small. I want to be back in my world where I feel like I matter. Tonight, I feel invisible.
Jillian’s expression fills with excitement. “Yes.”
He points to the floor at his feet. “Kneel.”
She drops like a stone.
I hold my breath.
Michael chimes in, “I really don’t want to see this.”
“Too bad.” Leo shifts, pulling out something black from his back pocket.
He doesn’t say anything else.
I blink. It’s… a dog collar.
Or at least, that’s what it looks like.
Jillian appears about to hyperventilate.
Leo cups her chin and raises her face to his. “Who do you belong to?”
“You.” There is complete adoration on her face.
“That’s right.” He leans down and kisses her lips, and their mouths don’t seem to touch as much as cling to each other. “You’re mine.”
“Yes.” She breathes the word like a whisper that floats over my skin.
Have I ever belonged? Anywhere? To anyone? I blink back the sudden sting in my eyes.
He kisses her again. “I love you, Jillian.”
“I love you too.”
He straightens and slips the thin, black leather around her neck. He clasps it at her nape, and then runs his fingers between her skin and the band. She shivers.
Unraveled_Undone Page 5