He’s watching me again, and yet he’s completely unreadable. He wants inside my head, I’m sure of it, and I feel, for this second, that if I let him in he’ll awaken me in ways I’ve never known. I’m tempted to reach across the table and—
A knock on the door jerks my focus there, finding Anderson peeking his head inside the meeting room. “Yes?” he drawls.
I’m reeling, fighting my way back from the promise of satisfaction in Micah’s eyes, and trying to understand how in the hell he alerted Anderson that he needed him, when Micah rises from his chair. “Instruct the team to stop dismantling the company. Tell them to give me a report on Richardson’s financials ASAP. And keep all Richardson staff on board here, unless anyone willingly wants to move to Holt.”
Anderson frowns, stepping farther into the office. “Didn’t you say shut down this—”
“You heard me.” Eyes still intent on me, with that sexy little arch curving the side of his mouth, Micah asks me, “I’ll see you at Holt tomorrow, Allie?”
“You will,” is all I can say.
And just like that, he’s gone, and I’m alone, dragging in heavy breaths through my mouth.
The tabloid headlines at the grocery store spoke of Micah as being ruthless. But that’s not the guy I met today. Charming and seductive seems like an impenetrable armor to mask a certain dark intensity about him.
I press my hands flat on the table, hoping the coolness of the wood eases the fire in my veins. My nerve endings are tingling. My panties are soaking wet. But there’s a truth I cannot ignore besides the heat he awakens inside of me.
Men like Micah don’t do something out of the goodness of their heart. He made this choice because I asked him to.
This is his leverage over me.
And now I owe him.
Chapter 2
Micah
An hour later and back at Holt, I stride down the hallway, away from my corner office, and reach the meeting room far from the hustle and bustle of the reception area. Through the glass wall separating the meeting room from the hallway, I see three men sitting on the black leather swivel chairs around the racetrack-shaped steel conference table. Behind them, the two exterior windows face the Golden Gate Bridge, and the shining sun is glistening off the steel today.
When I open the glass door and enter the meeting room, the group of men are in a casual conversation and greet me with nods. I take my seat in the chair at the head of the table, facing the men I consider friends. But our long friendship isn’t the only thing that binds us. We’re the sole owners of the four sex clubs in the city, and in the dark rooms of our clubs, we’re better known as the Dominants’ Council (DC).
Few know of our true identity and we like it that way. But even as I sit here now, I realize that I don’t think of my position as owner in the DC as I once had. My decisions are no longer based on privacy or on how to get my kinky sex fix, but are based on financial choices. And from recent conversations, I can only guess the men around me feel the same way.
“Before we begin with business,” Gabe O’Keefe announces, after the door closes tightly, secluding us from the well-accessed hallway. Holt’s offices and meeting rooms might have glass walls showing us off to all passersby, but the seals around the door ensures us our privacy. “You, my friend, have a problem,” he says to Ryder.
“Do I, now?” Ryder Blackwood scrapes a hand over his buzzed-cut dirty blond hair. “What kind of problem?”
“A serious one, I’m afraid.” Gabe offers him a file folder.
Ryder glances through the papers within, looking a bit disturbed. “Unbelievable.”
“What’s going on?” Darius Bennett asks, leaning closer toward the documents, his brows drawn over his chocolate brown eyes.
Ryder offers Darius the folder. “Hadley Winters, the daughter of the Senator I guard, is playing at Gabe’s club.” Ryder made his multi-millions creating the best security detail in North America, but he still likes being in the field and getting his hands dirty.
Darius scans the picture before handing the file to me. I find the photo is of a beautiful blond woman, who’s blindfolded, gagged, and bound to a St. Andrew’s Cross. Angry whip lashings cover nearly every inch of her body. I sympathize with Ryder’s position immediately. It’s his responsibility to ensure Senator Winters is safe and his reputation falls under that umbrella, I’m sure.
Though at the same time, I have other thoughts on the matter. I narrow my focus on the woman’s face in the picture. She looks to be in her mid-twenties, therefore legally allowed to be in Gabe’s club. “Besides that Hadley is Senator Winters’s daughter, I’m not
seeing a problem here.”
“Look at the next page,” Gabe states.
I flip the photo over, finding a document stating that Hadley has been written up twice at Gabe’s club for unsafe behavior. Gabe’s more involved in his club than the rest of us. Ryder, Darius, and I all handed over control of our clubs to someone within whom we trusted to handle day-to-day business, though Gabe remained the go-to guy for his club.
“I’m worried for her well-being,” Gabe says softly. “She’s beyond reckless. Twice now they’ve pulled her from a scene because she’s not safe-wording out when she should be. I watched a video of her, and believe me when I say she’s not playing safe.” He gives Ryder a knowing look. “Hadley is protected in my club. But one more instance like this and she’ll be banned.”
Ryder draws in a deep breath before speaking. “She shouldn’t be there to begin with. If TMZ got ahold of this…” Posture stiff, he rubs the back of his neck. “When did she join Afterglow?”