I look up, alerted by that too-casual voice. Xavier’s up to something. “Are you playing matchmaker again?” I demand. “Neither of us is looking for a submissive.”
“Just as well,” he replies. “She’s left the lifestyle. Fiona Clarke’s tastes are vanilla now.”
I don’t know why that bothers me. Xavier is right. It is a shame that Fiona’s first and only BDSM experience was with Downing. I remember her clearly, kneeling in the hallway of Downing’s Dupont Circle apartment, her brunette hair cascading down her shoulders, her eyes submissively lowered, her knees spread.
She’d deserved better than an asshole like Downing.
“She’s going to be at the club for the next month, asking questions and looking into this blackmail attempt,” Xavier continues. “I’d feel a lot happier if someone were to keep an eye on her.”
“Why?” Adrian demands. “What do you think might happen?”
The Belgian man tips the Scotch down his throat. “Downing might try to get her back.”
“Why would…” The dots connect. “Xavier, tell me Downing’s not a member of the club.”
“He is on a trial membership, yes.”
“Have you lost your fucking mind?”
He sets his glass carefully down on the side table. “No, Adrian,” he says, a hard edge in his voice. “I have not lost myfuckingmind. While the two of you were sitting around and feeling sorry for yourselves, I’ve been trying to keep people safe.”
He strides to the window and looks out to the busy streets below. “First, Fiona, after the two of you dropped the ball on that. I begged favors from Maddox and sent him into Downing’s weekly poker game.”
“Dropped the ball?” My voice rises in outrage. “Xavier, I don’t know if you noticed, but Sandy died.”
“Two years ago,” he retorts, just as furious as me. “In the meanwhile, Downing’s been through seven submissives. Seven women who refused to press charges, no matter how much I try.”
My anger drains away. God knows I can relate to that. I’ve pleaded with the families of the women my father assaulted.Press charges,I’ve begged.He has to be stopped.
But like Raymond, my father picks his targets well. Too vulnerable to fight back.
“That’s why he’s a member?” Adrian realizes the truth sooner than I do. “You’re trying to see if you can catch him in something?”
He nods. “Downing is a menace. What he’s doing isn’t BDSM. It’s assault, plain and simple. But he’s protected by his father’s position and power.”
I take a deep breath. “You could go outside the law,” I suggest.
There’s a pause, and once again, I get the sense that Xavier isn’t telling us everything. “Things are complicated,” he says finally. “I’d prefer to keep things legal if I can.”
“Xavier,” Adrian points out. “Fiona and Downing have history. You’re using her as bait. It’s not like you to put someone in danger.”
His lips tighten. “I want Downing locked up,” he snaps. “It’s not negotiable. You’re concerned about Ms. Clarke? You know what to do.”
Something’s going on. Xavier isn’t a dick, but he’s certainly doing a good imitation of it now.
I exchange another glance with Adrian. He nods slightly.
“Fine,” I grit out. “We’ll play this your way. For now.”
“Thank you.” He gets up to leave and then turns around. “Incidentally,” he says. “You do know that Fiona Clarke’s private investigator firm is in this building? She’s your new neighbor. You should go over and say hello.” His lips twitch. “Offer to show her around the club.”
He’s definitely up to something.
Damn Xavier Leforte. Adrian should have let his call go to voicemail.
* * *