Decadent Master (9 page)

He couldn’t.

He needed to stop this. Now. It wasn’t fair to Wynne. He knew what he’d seen in her eyes: hope, affection, longing. She could never be his, nor could he be hers. He belonged to another. It was a matter of duty and honor.

His teeth gritted, he jerked the mask off. It hadn’t done any good; he couldn’t hide the truth from Wynne, no more than he could hide it from himself. He wasn’t just attracted to her, he was mesmerized.

“We can’t do this again.” He watched her spine stiffen.

She didn’t speak.

His heart heavy, he released her from the shackles. He tried not to look at her luscious body, not admire the curve of her hips, the soft swell of her stomach and the full heaviness of her breasts. Beautiful. Perfect. Temptation like he’d never seen before.

He was in hell.

He stepped back. “Get dressed and you are free to go.”

“Yes, Master.”

He stared down at the flogger, lying on the floor. The hurt and disappointment he heard in her voice made him want to strike himself with it.

He’d done his best, but he was too fucking weak. He couldn’t stand that close to this woman and not want to touch her. He couldn’t see her nude and not burn to take her. He couldn’t look into her eyes and not ache to protect her.

He hadn’t thought it was possible, but he had met his Achilles’ heel: the one thing, or rather one person, who could destroy him.

For the sake of all of them, especially Wynne, he had to make sure he was never in the same room with her again.

“Thank you, Master,” she mumbled.

Dammit.
He felt his whole body stiffen. He couldn’t look at her. Could. Not. Look. “Remember, we can’t do this again.” He headed toward the door, opened it, stepped out. But before he moved out of her sight, he turned and snapped, “And stay away from Zane.”

Cursing himself, he hurried toward the club’s back emergency exit. He needed some air, space, time, quiet.

W
ell, that wasn’t what she’d expected, not that she could really say what she’d been hoping for when he had finally agreed to have a session with her.

It was…uncomfortable, awkward, almost like he didn’t know what to do with her.

Was that her fault?

Hoping she’d get a chance to talk to Kristy about it later, she slung her bag over her shoulder and left his suite, closing the door behind her. She saw a sign for a fire exit, and, feeling a little out of sorts, decided she’d go out that way, rather than tromping through the main dungeon toward the building’s front.

Not sure if she’d set off an alarm, she pushed on the door. No bells. No blinking lights. She was good. She hurried out, stepping into a still, moonless night. The fresh air felt good. It brushed across her skin in a gentle current, cooling it. She took a quick look around, decided she was alone, but not exactly in the safest place. An alley, connecting the two main roads running north and south on either side of the block, ran behind the building. It was deserted, dark, and isolated.

A little tense, and shivering at the creepy somebody-is-watching-me feeling buzzing through her, she hurried toward the side of the building. As she stepped around the corner, she caught sight of a vehicle parked by the side of the building.

A few seconds later, she realized it wasn’t parked.

Too late.

She screamed and tried to move, but it felt like her brain had become disconnected from her body. She couldn’t react fast enough.

Something struck her from behind. The world became a blur of black and white and suddenly she felt like she was floating.

A split second later, she realized she was being carried.

Who?

Dierk. Watching the speeding car careen around the corner, she looped her arm around his neck.

Dierk had saved her life.

He stopped at the front corner of the building. They were hidden, cloaked in a heavy, cool shadow created by the lights illuminating the building’s front entrance. He gazed into her eyes for a moment, then gently set her on her feet.

Unsteady and breathless, she turned to face him and swung her other arm up. She tangled her fingers in his hair. “T-thank you.”

He tipped his head, bringing it closer, closer. Was he going to kiss her?
Yes, yes, yes!
She held her breath and closed her eyes.

“You’re welcome.” His whispered words hummed through her body like a low-voltage current.

Tingly, she rose up on tiptoes and simultaneously pulled on his neck.

“Dierk?” What was he waiting for, a formal invitation? If he couldn’t read this girl’s body language, he was blind.

One second passed, two, three, four, five. When her calf muscles started twitching, she sank down onto her heels. She let go of his neck, letting her arms fall to the sides.

Dierk stepped back.

She wished she could just die right now.

Suddenly, she realized she was barefoot. Where were her shoes? Her bag? “I-I think I dropped my things.”

“I’ll get them. Wait here.” He turned away.

Still a little shaky, she watched him fade into the blackness.

She took the time while he was away, gathering her possessions, to collect her wits. Maybe Dierk was sending somewhat mixed signals. At times, he seemed to be attracted to her. Others, he seemed to be intentionally pushing her away. But most of the time, he was pushing her away.

So why did she keep hanging onto those other moments, when the chemistry between them was more potent than nuclear fission? Why couldn’t she accept he didn’t want any kind of relationship with her?

Was he married? Or in a committed relationship? God, that possibility hadn’t crossed her mind, not once.

She wasn’t sure what made her feel worse: practically throwing herself at a man who didn’t want her, or imagining Dierk hugging, kissing, holding another woman.

Her mood sinking, she leaned back, letting the building support her. Dierk materialized out of the gloom a few moments later. He held some things cradled in his arms, strong limbs that had once been cradling her.

Was it possible to be jealous of a duffle bag?

“I’m afraid some of your things were damaged,” he said.

“That’s okay.”

“I’m not sure I found everything. It was scattered. I could only locate one shoe.”

“No biggie,” she lied. Kristy was going to be none too happy to learn one of her expensive shoes had gone missing. But right now, Wynne couldn’t care less. “As long as I have my keys and my driver’s license, I’m good.”

“Those, I found.” He tipped his head toward the parking lot. “I’ll take these to your car. Where are you parked?”

“Not far.” Barefoot, she padded between some parked cars, heading for hers. She was painfully aware of Dierk: when she led him to her vehicle, when she unlocked the door, and when she bent down to flip the driver’s seat forward so he could put her stuff on the back seat.

He straightened up. “Okay. Drive safely.”

“Will do.” Another awkward moment. “Thank you for the book store gift certificate. And thank you again for saving my life. I didn’t realize that car was moving until it was too late. And then I was frozen.” She chuckled nervously. “I have a new appreciation for how a deer feels when it’s caught on a freeway, staring at an oncoming semi truck.”

“I happened to be there.” After a beat, he added, “Please don’t use that back door again. The alley isn’t safe.”

“You have my word.” She bit her lip. A part of her wanted to say something about the session, and what had happened just now, when she’d practically begged him to kiss her. The other part—the logical one—was telling her there was no point. When he turned to walk away, the illogical part took action. “Wait,” she called.

He glanced over his shoulder.

“About tonight. Our session—”

“I apologize. I shouldn’t have taken you back to my suite. I wasn’t comfortable with it, and I shouldn’t have done it.”

She wrapped her arms around herself. “Did I do something wrong?”

His expression softened for a fraction of a second but then, just when she was starting to appreciate it, it hardened again. “No, you didn’t do anything wrong. Like I said, I don’t play with club members. I feel it’s better for the club and for both of us.”

“Okay.” His reasoning was a little vague but still understandable, she supposed. She tried to equate it to a bar owner drinking with his customers during business hours. Bad business. “I understand. I’m sorry I put you in an awkward situation, both in the club and…” She couldn’t finish the sentence. She felt like such an idiot.

He shook his head. “No harm, no foul.” He stepped around her open door, tipping his head. “Good night, Wynne.”

“Good night.” She sank into the driver’s seat, slid the key into the ignition, and, as Dierk closed her door, cranked it to start the engine. She watched him walk back into the club before she pulled out of the parking lot.

“How’d your session go? Wanna talk about it?” Kristy asked before Wynne was in the door. “Holy shit!” Kristy’s jaw just about hit the floor once she saw Wynne, and Wynne realized, belatedly, that she must look more roughed up than she thought. “What the hell happened to you?”

“I almost got hit by a car.”

“Ohmygod!” Kristy rushed to her, yanked the pile of things out of her arms, and dropped them onto the floor, then grabbed her hands and dragged her into the living room. “Are you hurt anywhere? Should I take you to the hospital?”

“No, I’m fine. Just shaken.”

“Okay.” Kristy visibly exhaled. “Shit, talk about giving a girl a scare. Why didn’t you call me?”

“Couldn’t get a signal on the cell phone.” Wynne pointed at the heap of mostly torn and broken things Dierk had recovered for her.

Kristy bent down, scowled and scooped up what remained of Wynne’s phone. “Um, I guess that should come as no surprise.” Kristy threw her arms around Wynne and squeezed her. “Ohmygod, you weren’t kidding! I’m so, so glad you weren’t hurt!”

“Does that mean you won’t be mad if one of your shoes is missing?”

She felt Kristy stiffen for a split second then soften again. “No, I won’t be mad. You had an accident.”

“I’ll replace them.”

“No, you won’t.” Kristy hurried to the couch and sat. “Come here, I TiVo’d this week’s episode of
Tough Love
.”

“I don’t know if I’m in the mood to watch television right now.” Wynne stooped next to the pile and started digging through it. Almost everything that had been in her duffle was either completely unusable or damaged. A few items were salvageable, like the leather flogger.

More than ever, she realized how close she’d come to losing her life. It was truly a miracle she wasn’t dead.

She went to the kitchen and got the trash can and, after changing into some pajamas, started sorting through her things, dumping the junk in the can.

Kristy came over, sat beside her, and started helping her. “Outside of the disaster, how did your session go? You called me, so I’m curious to hear what happened.”

“Well, the whole night was kind of a mess.”

“Oh, honey.” Kristy rubbed Wynne’s shoulder. “What happened?”

“Rolf didn’t show. Evidently there was a misunderstanding, although I don’t know how that was possible. Anyway, Dierk was the one who told me about Rolf, and I did as you suggested, thinking he might offer to take his brother’s place.”

Kristy grinned and poked her in the rib. “You like him, don’t you?”

Wynne shrugged. “I do.” She sighed. “But it doesn’t matter. He made it absolutely clear he isn’t interested.”

“Oh, no.” Kristy twisted her mouth into a scowl. “He’s an idiot if he doesn’t see what a prize you are.”

“Spoken like a true best friend.”

They continued to work in silence.

What was salvaged could fit in a shoebox. Kristy kept the orphaned shoe, just in case its match was found.

The box arrived just after five. It was large, brown, of a typical nondescript cardboard variety. The label had no return address.

Kristy wasn’t home when it arrived. Wynne decided she’d wait until Kristy came home from work to open it. That decision lasted for all of twenty minutes. Then she said to hell with that, went to the kitchen for a knife, and sliced open the tape.

It was full of bondage stuff, absolutely brimming. At the bottom, Wynne found a small envelope, taped to a shoebox. Inside was a gray note card with a handwritten message.

Once again, he had to go and prove himself a good, kind, thoughtful guy. Didn’t he know what that was doing to her? Better for her if he’d be rude, an asshole, so she could shove him out of her mind, out of her dreams.

She checked the shoebox. The shoes weren’t exactly like the ones she’d been wearing, but if Wynne had to guess, they were much nicer. The name on the box told her that much: Manolo Blahnik.

What the hell was this man trying to do?

Because he was Twilight’s manager, Wynne could understand why he might think he should replace the things that were damaged, although even that was a stretch. But by sending all of this stuff, he’d gone way beyond what anybody would expect.

She set the shoes aside, settling on a compromise. Those were going back. The rest, she’d keep. But then, as she was showering later, she heard Kristy screeching, “Oh. My. Goddddd! He sent you Blahniks?”

Wynne mentally prepared herself for a wicked debate, knowing Kristy would think she was insane for wanting to return them.

By the time she was dressed, she was ready.

Kristy practically pounced on her the second she stepped out of the bathroom. And, of course, one of those damn pretty shoes was clutched to her chest. “They’re gorgeous!”

“I’m not keeping them.”

Kristy’s face went pale, more like bleached sheet, reflective white. “What?”

“I can’t keep them.”

Kristy gaped. She really did look funny, like a dying fish beached on a dock. “Why not?”

“Because they’re too expensive.” Wynne tried to snatch the shoe away from her friend, but Kristy jerked it out of her reach. “Now, hand over the shoe.”

“No. They’re a gift.” Kristy shook the shoe at her, stiletto pointing out. “You’re allowed to accept expensive gifts from men. You’re single. Ohmygod, they’re so prettyyyyy.”

“Yeah, but I don’t accept costly presents from men who don’t want anything to do with me.” She tried for the second time to get the shoe out of Kristy’s hand. This time, thanks to the fact that Kristy was too bewitched by the item in question to react, she succeeded. “I don’t get this guy.”

“Maybe you misunderstood. Maybe he likes you, but he doesn’t know how to show you. Guys are like that sometimes.”

Wynne shook her head. “Kristy, he grimaces when we get near each other, he does everything he can to avoid touching me, and he told me we could not scene again, ever. Doesn’t exactly sound like true love, does it?” She headed out to the living room to get the box of bondage gear.

“Hmmmm.” Kristy eyed the box. “And yet he goes out of his way to send you all this stuff.”

“Because he’s the manager of the club and I was almost killed. I’m sure he’s trying to avoid a lawsuit.”

“You think?”

“The more I think about it, the more I’m convinced that must be it. There couldn’t be any other reason.”

“I don’t know.”

“Please,
please
, agree with me.” Holding the heavy box, she gave Kristy a pointed look. “I need to believe he did this for some rational reason. Or I’m going to go crazy, trying to figure him out.”

Kristy nodded. “Yes, you must be right. He’s afraid you’re going to sue him for negligence.”

“Yes. Negligence. There wasn’t a light. It was very dark. Extremely dangerous.”

Kristy nodded again. “Yes, that’s a very serious issue. He’d better get a light put back there pronto, before someone gets hurt.”

Wynne smiled, though she didn’t feel happy at all. Nor relieved. Just confused and frustrated. “Thanks, sweetie.”

“You’re welcome.” Kristy grabbed one side of the box, to help her. They shuffled down the narrow hallway toward Wynne’s bedroom. “Hey, when’re you headed back to Twilight?”