I knew I couldn’t explore her just yet. I wanted to build her anticipation, to make her think about me all damn week. But I wasn’t above teasing her, so I leaned in, allowed my mouth to hover directly over hers. When her breath hitched, I smiled. Damn, but she was going to be fun.
“Good night, cupcake,” I whispered, allowing my lips to barely ghost across hers.
“Good night, Cav.”
It took some doing, but I managed to pull back and smile. When she got into her car, I closed the door and stepped back, watching as she backed out of the parking spot and then left the garage.
Knowing Edge was going to immerse himself in work and effectively ignore me for the rest of the night, I decided to leave, too. If nothing else, it would have him questioning what had happened when I walked Jamie to her car.
And for the moment, I didn’t mind leaving Edge to wonder. I got the feeling this wasn’t going to be nearly as simple as the man thought it would be.
Nothing with him ever was.
FOUR
EDGE
Monday, October 22, 2018
“THE ENTIRE ROOM NEEDS TO BE REDONE,” I clarified, speaking directly to the three men and two women standing before me. “When you’re finished, it’ll look like this.”
I passed over the iPad, the screen reflecting the redesign of what was now a posh bedroom, transforming it into a living room you’d find in an elegant, upscale home.
Considering I spent Mondays at the club, taking advantage of the fact that it was closed, I generally handled any major changes at that point. Since I’d received the new plans from Sierra late yesterday, I figured today would be a good time to tackle the project. Sierra Ackerley-McCoy was Trent Ramsey’s trusted designer for his clubs. She was also the wife of Luke McCoy and Cole Ackerley-McCoy, the owners of a fetish club known as Devotion down in Texas and close friends with Trent. My boss utilized Sierra’s skills when it came to designing his varied theme rooms at his clubs.
And since he insisted on having frequent changes made, I’d hired a team who took care of that for me, led by Deirdre Sloane, a personal friend. She was also in design, and when she worked with Sierra, they tended to come up with some rather interesting selections, namely in conversion furniture, the term they’d given to items that could be converted from standard furniture into hedonistic bondage equipment.
“If you have any questions,” I explained to Deirdre, “just call Sierra.”
“Of course, Edge,” Deirdre said. “I heard a rumor Trent’ll be converting the Wild West room next.”
My thoughts drifted back to Friday night, to a scene that played out in that very room. This one innocent, aside from the wicked thoughts I’d had while talking to Jamie Lautner in that room.
“That’s the rumor,” I replied. “But until the plans come through, it stays the same.”
“Got it.”
While Deirdre and her team focused on clearing out the current furniture and equipment, I headed down to the main floor. I was expecting an electrician to arrive to make a few changes to the Doms’ lounge. Another of Trent’s requests. The man was constantly updating this space, coming up with new ideas he expected me to implement. And since he paid me a more than decent salary to manage this place, I did his bidding without question.
“Well, don’t you look spiffy?”
As I stepped off the last step and onto the main floor, I gave a distracted glance in the direction of the voice.
“Thanks for coming in, Cambria.” I made a beeline for the bar. “The electrician should be here momentarily. I have to run, but I’ll try to be back before he’s finished.”
“Don’t worry about it,” she said in that always calm tone of hers.
Cambria Manning had been, for lack of a better term, my assistant for the past year. Although it wasn’t an official job title, she was the one person I could rely on to handle club issues when I was needed elsewhere. Had it not been for the fact she was a submissive, I figured she could run this place as well as, if not better than, I did. However, Master status at the club was required for my role, therefore she was relegated to simply assisting.
“Are you meeting with a client?” she asked, making her way toward me.
“Yeah.” I glanced up, caught a good look at her, and smiled. “Talk about spiffy.”
“This old thing?” She peered down at herself. “This is my Monday-morning, have-to-be-in-court-first-thing outfit.”
After making my way out from behind the bar, I headed toward the maintenance closet. “Sometimes I have a hard time believing you’re a judge.”
Cambria laughed, a sweet sound. “It’s only hard to imagine when I’m naked and laid out while some Dom beats on me.”
“True.” I’d played with Cambria on occasion, but never sexually. For whatever reason, the two of us had always kept that distance between us. Since we worked together, it made sense, although I don’t think either of us had planned it that way.
