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  We’re both breathless and smiling when we take off our masks.

  “I would’ve never thought of something like this,” Kylie says.

  “That’s what I’m here for.”

  The look on her face grows more serious. “I’m sorry it took so long. I should have tried to look for you. I’m sorry that you had to miss so much.”

  I shake my head. “Don’t be. I’m just worried about making the most of right now. We can’t change what happened, but we can focus on making every day the best it can be for him. For us.”

  She tries to hug me, but the bellies of our costumes make us bounce apart. I barely keep my balance, but Kylie falls on her butt. I’m about to offer her my hand when a commotion draws my attention. I quickly help her up and we both watch the swarm of costumed moms and toddlers come storming in through the front doors.

  “What the…” starts Kylie

  “Sorry, I forgot to tell you. I thought it would be more fun for Dean if there were some other kids for him to ram into. I reached out to a local mom’s group and told them everything would be paid for. I guess there was some interest.”

  “Yeah, no kidding.”

  Before long, there are at least twenty other toddlers in various costumes, all bumping and bouncing around the rink. The entire place is filled with old disco music and the high-pitched laughter of kids. Most of the moms are costumed as well, skating around and helping to police the kids. I nod to Angie, who I secretly got to agree to come keep an eye on Dean so Kylie could have a chance to relax and enjoy herself.

  We eventually move outside the skating area to catch our breath and grab some nachos from the concession stand.

  “You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?” she asks while we share the nachos and watch the kids have a blast. “On one hand you’re Mr. Dominant McPunisher, and on the other you’re pretty much the perfect dad.”

  “Dad,” I say slowly, testing the way it feels to say it out loud. “I guess I am a dad, aren’t I?”

  “You are,” she says seriously. “And you’re already making a really good case for dad of the year.”

  “It’s hard to take you seriously when you’re wearing an elephant costume,” I say with a grin.

  She looks down and clutches the paunch of her costume, shaking it around playfully. “You aren’t turned on?”

  I slide my hand behind her, gripping what I can of her ass through the thick costume. “You could wear a garbage bag and still turn me on, Kitten.”

  I love watching the way I can affect her. The simple touch and a few carefully chosen words and I can already see the hairs rising on the back of her neck. I know her pussy is heating for me, and I know I could have her wet enough to fuck in just seconds if I wanted to. But now clearly isn’t the time.

  “Damian Price?” asks a woman I didn’t notice approaching us. She’s one of the few people in the entire building not wearing a costume. She wears her blonde hair in a tight bun and her clothes are even tighter. I recognize her immediately as one of the reporters who was always hounding me a few years back when it got out that I was dating Faleena.

  “We’re trying to enjoy ourselves,” I say.

  “Want to introduce me to your friend?” she asks, holding her phone up in a poor attempt at discretion.

  “No,” I say. “I want you to give us some privacy.”

  “Who is this?” asks Kylie.

  “Privacy?” asks the reporter. “I can see why a beautiful couple like yourselves would want privacy. By the way, I notice your son bears a striking similarity to Mr. Price. Do you care to comment?” she asks Kylie.

  I stand up, push her phone away, and place my body between her and Kylie. “You need to leave.”

  She makes an expression that doesn’t look all-too-concerned and turns to leave. “We’ll be in touch.”

  “No,” I growl. “We won’t.”

  Once she leaves, Kylie looks at me with worry creasing her forehead. “What was that about?”

  “She’s from one of those trashy gossip magazines. Don’t worry about her.”

  “Gossip magazine? You mean like the kind that are in the checkout aisles at the grocery store?”

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  “Don’t worry about her? What if our faces end up plastered all over those things? What if Dean ends up on one?”

  I grit my teeth. “I’ll do everything in my power to stop that from happening.”

  Kylie looks toward Dean, who is in the middle of a pile of costumed toddlers who are all rolling around on the ice. “I hope so.”

  13

  Kylie

  Oh my God,” says Melina, who leans back in her chair by my desk during Steve’s extended break. “That sounds so fun. I can’t believe he thought of such a cute date idea.”

  “I know,” I say, smiling a little too proudly. It’s hard not to be proud of Damian, though. As much as I don’t want to think of him like some kind of prize, he really is. He’s gorgeous, kind, great with Dean, and when he wants to turn me on he’s like a sex god. He also has more money than he could ever spend in a single lifetime, but that doesn’t even matter. Sure, it’s nice, but Damian could be even more poor than me and I’d still be head-over-heels for him. The money is just a crazy bonus, like hot fudge on a brownie. “But there was this reporter who hassled us a little yesterday. It was really weird. I felt like some celebrity with the paparazzi coming after me.”

  “Sounds kind of exciting,” she says.

  “Maybe if I didn’t have Dean. But she was clearly digging for dirt, or at the least something sensational and juicy. I don’t want my little guy dragged into that.”

  “Yeah,” says Melina with a frown. “What did Damian say about it?”

  “It sounded like he had seen the woman before. He said he’d do anything he could to make sure it didn’t go any farther.”

  “He knew her? Was she pretty?” asks Melina.

  I feel a stab of ugly panic shoot through me. I hadn’t even thought of it like that, but Melina’s question makes all kinds of dark thoughts bounce around my head. “She was beautiful,” I say. “And she was dressed like she knew it.”

  Melina’s frown deepens. “How did Damian seem with her?”

  “I mean, he seemed pissed. His eyes didn’t wander at all or anything, and he basically told her to fuck off.”

  Melina relaxes. “Pshh. You have nothing to worry about. I shouldn’t even be bringing stuff like that up. Your man is perfect, Kylie. He knows he’s got something special with you and he’s not going to do anything to jeopardize it.”

  “Yeah,” I say, but as much as I want to trust him one hundred percent, there’s the smallest, tiniest sliver of doubt that still remains. If I hadn’t had three years to stew over what I thought was the truth about him, I’m sure I would’ve moved past this silly thing by now, but no matter how hard I try there’s the faintest fear in my chest, like Damian will really do anything to get this woman to leave us alone.

  “Wow,” I say later that night when Damian leads me into a posh little bar near the center of the city. “I thought you had to have a reservation months ahead of time to get into this place.”

  “I worked out a deal with the owner a few years back. He owed me a couple favors.”

  I purse my lips. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. Thank you by the way for paying to have Angie stay with Dean tonight while he sleeps.”

  “Don’t thank me. It was more of a selfish decision than anything. I’m hoping if I play my cards right tonight, I may get lucky.”

  I laugh, but decide to keep him on his toes at least a little. “We’ll see how it goes.”

  He eyes me as we’re let in through the front entrance by two men in dark suits. “Well, I hope you remember the safe words.”

  My eyes widen when I realize the inside of the club is absolutely decked out with BDSM gear. Whips, chains, and leather harnesses dangle from the walls. Full-body leather suits are on display by mannequins, and there are several are
as lit by red spotlights where masked men and women are engaged in everything from intercourse to paddling. The clientele are dressed in business formal attire, but it doesn’t take much searching to find men with hands up women’s dresses, women with their hands inside men’s zippers, and even one man who is practically swallowed up by four writhing women in a corner near where the people under the red spotlights are having sex.

  “I remember them, Sir,” I add at the last second.

  “That’s good, Kitten,” he says. I can already see the change coming over him, like the energy of this place seeps into him and pushes all the carefree kindness I’ve come to know in him away. All that’s left is his primal urge to dominate and subdue, to make me his and to own me completely.

  I wondered for the longest time how a relationship would work with a man like him, especially a man who has such exotic sexual tastes, but I think I finally understand. Just because he’s my dom, it doesn’t mean he has to be my dom at home or around Dean. He can turn it on and off like the flip of a switch, just like most couples turn their sexuality on and off. Maybe there are a few whispered words here and there or discreet touches, but every couple holds their sexuality at bay to a degree. The only difference here is the intensity of what he unleashes when the time comes.

  “I still haven’t had a chance to properly punish you for all of your transgressions,” he explains. “I have my own personal room here, so I thought--”

  “Damian,” says a man who comes to clap Damian on the shoulder. The man is flanked by two gorgeous women in leather outfits that are cut like one-piece swimsuits. They both wear severe, thigh-high boots decked out with metal clasps and leather straps. “It’s good to see you. It has certainly been a while.”

  “Kitten,” he says, pulling me close to him. “This is Mark, an old business associate.”

  “Oh come on,” says Mark, who has handsome features with flecks of gray in his hair. “Business associate? We were practically inseparable back in our hay day.”

  “That’s enough,” says Damian sharply.

  Mark eyes me knowingly and grins. “I see. You’re breaking in a new one, are you? Well, don’t let me spoil the fun. Come on girls, I got a strap on for you this weekend, Vanessa, and I want to watch you fuck Mindy.” He throws a wink at me over his shoulder as he leaves.

  I look up to Damian, a dozen questions burning on the tip of my tongue. I know I’m not supposed to ask him questions right now, but I don’t know if I can hold them back. Why was Damian so quick to get Mark to stop talking? What was Mark about to say that Damian didn’t want me to know? Between the reporter yesterday and now this, the confident foundation of trust I’ve been building with Damian feels like it is being shaken, and that realization makes me sick to my stomach.

  He looks down at me, and if I didn’t know better, I’d say he was waiting to see if I was going to ask.

  I want to ask him so badly it actually hurts, but I don’t. On one hand, I need to be a better person than I was three years ago. I need to give him a chance to make the truth clear to me instead of trusting a stranger. On the other hand, I want to know if he’ll come clean with whatever it is. If I can really trust Damian, I won’t need to be on the alert all the time. I don’t need to be his interrogator. If it’s important for me to know, I need to trust him to tell me. And if he chooses not to tell me, well, I need to trust that he’s making that decision for a good reason, too.

  I think I see a flicker of pride in his eyes when I stay silent. His approval makes me swell with satisfaction at having pleased him. My curiosity still stings, but I can manage it. Knowing I’ve made Damian--my dom--happy is enough to distract me for now.

  “Do you mind if I just use the bathroom?” I ask.

  “Of course,” he says, motioning to an area near the back of the main room.

  I step inside to a relatively crowded space with a few well-kept stalls and a small mob of beautiful women checking themselves in the mirror and touching up makeup. Once I’ve finished, I’m met outside the stall by a face I don’t immediately recognize. She’s clearly waiting for me though, with fists planted on her shapely hips and a wicked grin on her lips.

  “We never properly met,” she says, extending a hand.

  I shake it, even though my impulse is to slap it away. It’s the reporter from yesterday, and just the sight of her alone is enough to turn my stomach. “I’m Kylie,” I say. I’ll give her a chance, at least. When I used to wait tables I learned the best way to deal with people I didn’t like was to kill them with kindness. Maybe that’ll work with this woman.

  “Monique,” she says.

  “You just happened to be here tonight?” I say lightly. “That’s a pretty wild coincidence, huh?”

  She shrugs. “It was intentional. I wanted a chance to have a word with you alone, and my work affords me a few helpful perks, like being able to get into this club.”

  “So you’re… into all this?” I ask.

  “I had better be, or I would’ve never survived dating Damian. Oh,” she says at the expression on my face. “He didn’t mention we dated? I guess that’s not a surprise. I think there might have been a little overlap. He only broke things off with me… what was it, yesterday? Two days ago?”

  I feel like I might be sick, but I don’t want her to see. “That can’t be true.”

  She laughs with a heavy hint of sarcasm. “I know, right? I thought the same thing when he broke it off with me. But hey, now you know and you’ll be better off without him. He’s just a player. Always will be. You’re pretty enough, anyway. You’ll find another guy.”

  “I have to go,” I say stiffly, pushing past her and heading for the exit. My head is spinning. I keep thinking how much this feels like what I felt on that airplane three years ago, only it’s worse now. I let myself fall farther for him. I let it all get deeper. I let him into Dean’s life.

  I close my eyes, pressing my body against the wall and suppressing a shiver. There’s a difference though. Last time I believed Faleena. I believed every word she said and I didn’t even speak to Damian before I ran. This time? I may be pissed, and I may be having trouble ignoring everything she said, but I’m going to talk to him. I’ve changed at least that much, and the trust we’ve built over the past days has to count for something.

  I hope.

  Damian finds me before I move away from the wall. He plants a hand beside my head, leaning down and tilting my chin up with his other hand. “What happened?” he asks with eyes full of darkness.

  “I met Monique,” I say. “She said you two dated.”

  Damian shakes his head. “No. She tried when she first started reporting on me, but nothing ever happened.”

  “She said you were dating her until just a few days ago…”

  Damian frowns in genuine confusion, and before he even says a word, I know the truth. She was lying. Every word of it was a lie. She’s jealous of me, and she wants to sabotage what we have. All the disappointment and sadness I felt boils over into a simmering hatred for that woman.

  The door beside us opens and Monique comes strutting out, looking pleased with herself.

  Damian moves like he’s about to stop her and say something, but I beat him to it.

  “Hey,” I say through gritted teeth, grabbing her shoulder.

  She turns with a look of outrage on her face.

  I don’t even let her speak before I slap her as hard as I can across the face. The sound rings out but doesn’t even draw so much as a turned head, which I guess isn’t surprising since there’s literally a guy in a leather mask spanking a bare-assed woman with a paddle a few feet away. But I relish in watching Monique’s head snap to the side and the way she brings a shaking hand up to the spot on her cheek that’s already turning red.

  “You bitch,” she says. She raises her hand to slap me back, but Damian is there as quick as a cat, gripping her wrist and stopping her from touching me.

  “You need to leave,” he says. “For good.”

&n
bsp; “Damian,” she says. All the hardness melts from her face and she suddenly looks like a stray dog caught in the rain, desperate and hungry. “Please. I could be so good to you. Better than her. You need me. Just--”

  “Leave,” he says more forcefully.

  The anger flashes back into her features as quickly as it came. “Fuck you, then. You don’t deserve me.”

  She storms out of the club with loud clicks of her heels and Damian doesn’t so much as glance back at her. “Are you okay, Kitten?” he asks.

  “Thanks to you,” I say.

  He still runs his hands over me, checking me for marks or damage. “I’m sorry that happened. I have no fucking idea how she managed to get in here, either, but I’m going to have words with the owner about it.”

  “It’s okay, really.”

  He watches me for a long time, then bites his lip. “You came to me this time. You didn’t run.”

  I lean into him, running my fingers over his hard body with closed eyes. “I may be stubborn, but I can change.”

  “You can always come to me, Kitten. Always. And I’ll always tell you the truth.”

  My roaming hands and the soothing sound of his voice are doing all the right things to me. Feeling what we have threatened makes me want him more than ever. It makes me hungry. I slide my hand down his back and grip his tight ass, grinning into his chest as I do.

  “Careful,” he says in a low raspy voice. “If you want to make it to the privacy of my room before I fuck you, it might be a bad idea to keep feeling me up like that.”

  “Noted,” I say. “Then you had better hurry, because I don’t think I can help myself.”

  He smirks. In a lightning quick move, he picks me up and presses me to his body, carrying me toward the back of the main room as easily as if I’m weightless. We pass a group of men and women who gives us a quick, drunken round of applause and cheer. I hide my face in Damian’s shoulder, still not used to the idea of strangers knowing I’m about to have sex just a few rooms away. Even so, the exposure heightens my desire more. It’s dirty, and it’s something I never would’ve thought I’d be into, but I can’t deny the way pulses of heat are running through my body, making my hairs stand on end.