Page 107 of Obey

We’re ushered to a table in the very back—half-moon leather, curtains half-drawn, privacy designed for people with secrets. The hostess hands off menus, then vanishes without a word.

The second we’re seated, Jace tosses his menu aside. “So, Sugar. Did you finish your homework?”

The condensation on my water glass is cold against my fingertips. “Define finished.”

His lips twitch. “I’ll take that as an incomplete.What did you find most interesting?”

I study the linen napkins. The crystal. Elias, who raises one eyebrow in a way that suggests they’re waiting. “It was a lot to take in, so I made a list,” I say, the words quieter than I intend. Too honest.

Nate sets his menu down and leans forward, elbows on the table. “May we see it, Sola?”

The way he asks makes me want to give this damn man everything I own. I fumble my phone out of my clutch, pull up my notes, and slide it across the table face-up.

He doesn’t rush. He reads it in silence, scrolling with the kind of concentration that makes me suddenly aware of every word I typed. I’m tempted to yank it out of his hands, but he’d never let me.

Finally, Nate looks up. “Public Play. Protocols and Rituals. Sensory Deprivation. I’m noticing a theme, Miss Harper.”

Jace leans over, peeking at the screen. “Oh, shit. Orgasm control. Breath play. I vote we try everything on this list before sundown,” he says, and slides the phone to Elias.

Elias doesn’t even look at the screen. He just flips the phone face down and fixes me with that flat, dark stare. “Anything not on the list?”

“Blood. Needles. Anything that leaves a mark I’d have to explain to a doctor.” I turn my water glass in my hands. “And I don’t like feeling set up. Preston used to frame everything like a test I didn’t know I was taking, and somehow I always failed it—and it was always my fault. So just… don’t do that.”

Nate’s expression stays measured, but something in it shifts. “When we give you instructions, it’s because we want you engaged in what’s happening. Not because we’re waiting to trip you up.”

Elias turns my hand over, his thumb pressing slowly into the inside of my wrist. “There’s a difference between getting inside your head to make it go quiet and just being an asshole,” he says. “We know the difference.”

“Okay,” I say, and the word comes out as more of a breath than a sound, but it’s honest. Weirdly, the more they ask of me, the safer I feel.

“For the record, some of us are very pro-game. Just not the kind that leaves marks on the inside.” Jace adds, “We like watching you come to life, babe. Plus, smart girls unravel the prettiest.”

I snort. “And I’m guessing you plan to test that theory as many times as possible.”

Jace grins and says nothing, which is its own answer.

The waiter materializes, unhurried, and runs through the specials with a professional calm that suggests our particular dynamic isn’t new to him. Nate orders without consulting anyone: steaks medium rare, potatoes, oysters, sparkling water, and a single glass of Malbec “for the lady.”

A week ago, him ordering for me would've made my back go up on principle. Today, I realize I like not having to decide.

The moment we’re alone, Nate folds his hands on the table. “Soft limits.”

I trace my finger around the rim of my water glass. “Public is fine, within reason. Nobody’s getting handcuffed in a Walgreens. Degradation, I can work with.” I say. “Being called a slut, apparently, I have no objection to. Race play, on the other hand? Try that, and I will own SOLAÉ.”

Jace splutters his drink. Nate looks genuinely revolted. Elias just stares at me like I’ve grown a second head.

Nate sets down his glass. “That’s not something any of us would touch.”

“I know. I just wanted to hear you say it.”

A beat. Then Elias: “Safe word. Your choice.”

“Magnolia,” I say, without meaning to say it so fast.

The image flashes behind my eyes; my grandmother’s porch, the scent of those white blossoms heavy in the humid air. Home. Safety. Louisiana in a single word.

Jace turns it over like he’s tasting it. “Magnolia.” He nods. “Yeah, that fits.”

The food arrives as Jace pours me a glass of wine. The conversation finds its own current, and I let it carry me. For once, there isn't a voice in the back of my head telling me I'm doing any of this wrong.