The Master's Choice (2 page)

“Very well, miss.”

The door clicked shut softly and Ally closed her eyes, feeling tears track wetly down her cheeks. Nowhere to go. Except a home that wasn’t hers. Her home…her home was gone. One car accident. A drunken driver. And a graduation celebration that had turned into destruction. Her mother, maternal grandfather, and her mother’s only sibling killed instantly. Ally had been in a coma for three weeks, waking to see a cousin she’d never met at her bedside. His wife stood just behind him.

Now those strangers were the only family she has left. Andrew and Belinda Brown had taken her to their penthouse and helped her with everything—physical therapy, every possible rehabilitation and adjustment. She had thought nothing could be worse than that car accident until the 9/11 attacks just weeks after her release from the hospital.

After watching the first plane hit the tower, Andrew had called and evacuated everyone from Manhattan to their Long Island home. Christmas had come and gone before Ally could do more than manage a slight smile. Slowly, she’d found the will to work with her physical therapist and by Easter she’d been walking. She had resisted every effort made to get her back to Manhattan or to attend any “society” function. Belinda finally had worn her down and she’d agreed to accept the invitation to the Franklin family’s Fourth of July celebration.

She’d been swept off her feet by Kevin, casting him as her very own charming prince. The fairy tale had been complete once they’d married until she’d suddenly found herself in hell. Their marriage had lasted six months. When Andrew refused to consider her husband’s business deal, she’d literally been locked out of the apartment they shared. She had ceased to serve a purpose and found herself back on her cousin’s doorstep, begging for help.

Her ex had claimed that their marriage had been an arrangement that would give him access to the Brown family business. When that tie failed to deliver, he filed for an annulment claiming fraud. Unable to bear that humiliation on top of everything else, Ally had drunk herself into a stupor.

Three days later, Andrew had insisted she start seeing a therapist. Now, four months had passed and Ally felt like she was still running in place. All she wanted was security. Secure surroundings. A secure relationship. Andrew and Belinda cared about her, and they accepted her simply because she was
family
. But they didn’t
know
her.

Honestly, how could she blame them? Given her history, Ally didn’t know herself.

As the car picked up speed, Ally took a deep breath and exhaled, shaking away painful memories. Andrew wanted her to give the therapist an honest effort. She had, she really had, but she still felt absolutely lost.

****

During pre-dinner drinks, she told them about that afternoon’s session.

“He tricked you into getting angry?” Belinda stared at her. “Damn, I should’ve done that months ago.”

Ally grinned and raised her wine glass in response.

“What did he mean about working on the sexual part?”

Belinda drew in a breath and shot a look at her husband. “That one’s yours, darling.”

“Okay,” Andrew murmured, sipping his Scotch. “We’ve tried doing what society tells us to do to fix things. Now, how about we try something a bit more drastic, a bit…outside the box?”

Stunned, Ally stared at him. “Why didn’t you bring this up before?”

“Because it’s not something most would understand,” he paused and cleared his throat nervously. “I wanted to give you a chance to try other things. To be sure.”

Ally thought she’d truly go insane as he verbally danced about. “Spit it out, Andy.”

The silence drew out and she studied his face. He really was hesitant about mentioning it to her.

“Andy, we’ve tried therapy, solo and in a group. I could probably stock a library with all the self-help books I have in my room. Tell me.”

“Hear me out before you react,” he started. She nodded. “We’ve tried fixing the mental and physical side of this equation. The physical therapy’s gone well, and it looks like you’ve made a good break-through on the mental. Tim’s right. We need something a bit more drastic to get you over what Kevin did.”

“And do what?” she asked, not sure what he was getting at.

“Andy, do you intend to take Ally to
the Club
?” Belinda’s question seemed a mix of surprise and incredulity.

Ally’s head swiveled toward Belinda. Club? How would a nightclub help her?

Andrew sighed. “I think it might be good for her.”

“Why
didn’t
you bring that up sooner?” Belinda asked in frustration.

“We owed it to Ally to try the usual routes of therapy.”

“Good point,” his wife replied with a nod. Her gray eyes met her husband’s. “But am I right in assuming that you want Liam O’Grady to take Ally into the Club? Under contract?”

“Yes,” he answered with a meaningful glance at his wife that Ally didn’t understand.

“You sure that’s a good idea?” Belinda frowned. “That bastard did a number on her.”

“Bel!”

“All right,” she conceded. “His parents were married when he was a born. Let’s just call him a son-of-a-bitch then.” She smiled and winked at Ally. “Since I’ve dealt with his mother at fundraisers, I know that’s the truth.”

A giggle burst from Ally’s lips. Andrew smiled at her response. “Haven’t heard much of that lately.”

She relaxed a bit and curled up in the chair. “So, what is this club? Is Liam a sex therapist?”

“Not quite,” he paused and glanced at his wife.

“Just tell her. She can handle it, Andy,” Belinda advised. “She’s stronger than she realizes.”

He nodded. “Liam runs a sex club.”

Ally froze, not even sure if she was breathing. “A…a what?” She shook her head to clear it. No such luck. “Andy, I’m no good at sex. Obviously, given…”

“I don’t give a rat’s ass what that asshole said.” Andy rose, came up to her chair, put his hands on the armrests, and leaned over her. “He was wrong. About everything. Got it?”

She swallowed and nodded. “What could Liam do when nothing else has worked?”

“It’s not so much what he could
do
, but the opportunity he would give you.”

“To do what?” Ally’s confusion must have been evident, even to them.

“Well, he would need you to complete a questionnaire to help determine what you are.”

“What I
am?
” she blinked. “I don’t follow you.”

“To see if you’re a submissive or a dominant. Your answers also will help pinpoint what you’re most likely to respond to sexually.”

“That’s the problem,” she muttered. “I don’t respond to anything.”

Andy mumbled a few obscenities under his breath. “Enough of that or I’ll put you over my knee and spank you myself.”

“That would be too perverse even for you,” his wife spoke up. She leaned forward and touched Ally’s knee. “The Club trains members according to the results of the questionnaire. Submissives have very different roles than dominants within the Club.”

“The Club,” Ally echoed.

“Everything that happens inside the Club is confidential,” Belinda continued. “You’d sign an agreement and you’d never refer to it in public, even with another member.”

“Submissives and dominants,” Ally echoed, rolling those words through her mind. “What are they specifically? How do I fit into this?”

“Ally, given your nature,” Bel started with a smile. “You’ve got to be a submissive. You prefer the dominant to take control. He or she…”

“He,” Ally said firmly.

“He would determine when and how you felt pleasure,” Bel continued, with a smile at her husband.

“If I were a submissive, what could be done to me?” Ally felt her curiosity rising.

“You decide on the parameters of a scene,” Andy told her. “As mild or extreme as you are comfortable with or excited by.”

“What’s a scene?” she asked, waving her hands to get him to slow down a bit.

“A scene begins when a Master chooses a submissive,” he explained. “Some subs have hard limits. Others quite a few soft limits. The Master agrees to follow those guides. A submissive chooses a safeword. If he or she says it during a scene, the Master must stop.”

“I’m confused,” she whispered, blinking and shaking her head. “Granted, I don’t know much and that’s only from a few books that have been popular lately, but I thought the Master controlled everything. From what you said, the submissive does.”

“The sub sets the boundaries,” elaborated Belinda. “Within those limits, the control is the Master’s right up to or if a sub uses the safeword.”

“And if the Master doesn’t stop?” Ally wondered. She didn’t know what to think about what they were telling her.

“Fortunately, that doesn’t happen often. But when it does, the Master faces various penalties set by the Board,” Andy replied. “Liam O’Grady is president of the Board of Members. His family started the club a hundred and seventy years ago. Liam is very proactive about safeguarding submissives and slaves.”

“It’s just sex?” she frowned. “Sounds like an elaborate prostitution ring.”

“No,” he replied firmly. “The Club is a safe, anonymous place where people can explore and enjoy their sexuality.”

“So, there can’t be that many people who are part of it. Someone would have said something…” Ally was mystified that an organization like that could exist in today’s society without detection.

“No, because most members come from society and business. The resulting publicity would ruin you, your family, and your business.”

Ally smirked and nodded. “That certainly would keep a lot of people quiet.”

“Exactly,” Andy confirmed. “And, it’s not all about sex. For a lot of people, it’s about control.” He sat down on the footstool in front of her chair and gripped her hands. “And I think that is what you need. You’ve never had control over anything. Grandfather was a strait-laced Puritan who wanted your father to marry a woman he approved of. Your father didn’t follow his dictates, so you never knew any of our family. Then that damn drunk driver took those you did know. Same for your marriage. Kevin took advantage of you at your weakest moment.”

“He thought that with us being married, you would sign that contract for the South Pacific resort.” Ally sighed at the humiliating memory.

“In his dreams,” Andy snorted. “You see what I mean, though? The Club would give you a chance to determine your limits, to become more comfortable with sex, around people, and with men, in particular.”

Ally chewed on her bottom lip and looked at Belinda for support. “Nothing else is working, is it?”

“It doesn’t look like it, dear,” she agreed.

They were silent as she thought for several minutes. While quite startled by the suggestion at first, the more Andy and Belinda had talked, the more appealing it sounded.

“You’re both members?”

“I’m a Dom,” Andy replied. “Bel is my sub, if you can believe it.”

His wife grinned and stuck her tongue out at her husband. At the heated look Andy gave Bel, Ally smiled then stared at the flickering flames. What the hell did she have to lose by trying? If all it did was get her over her ex, then it would be worth it. She could start living again. Hell, she might even find a man she could trust the way Bel trusted Andy.

Finally, she lifted her head and smiled, feeling good about a course of action for the first time in months. “Andy, I’d like to meet your friend, Liam.”

Chapter Two

JW hauled his duffle bag off the conveyor belt at JFK Airport and headed out to find a cab. He hadn’t told his family he was coming home. After so many months in Afghanistan, he wasn’t sure he could handle the emotions. He adored his mother and she would try to give him the space and time he asked for, but he knew how hard it would be for her not to see him after so long. He’d heard the fear and worry in her voice every phone call. She’d always tried to sound cheery and upbeat, not wanting him to lose his concentration. He couldn’t tell her what had happened. He didn’t even want to think about it.

Seeing a man in a black suit with a sign, he sighed. He should have known better. His cousins Grant and Bronson would have called friends to check on when he was coming in. Damn.

“I’m JW Franklin.”

“Welcome home, sir,” the man replied. “Mr. Grant Franklin requested that I meet you and take you to the family hotel.”

“If you’d said the family home, I would’ve turned around and gotten back on the plane,” JW replied curtly.

“No need, sir. Shall I carry that?”

“I’ve got it, thanks.”

They headed through the crowd and outside to where a sleek car waited. With so many people, JW already felt twitchy. He hadn’t liked large groups before, but now… Now, he positively hated them. What the hell was he going to do around his family? They held huge gatherings every couple of months throughout the holiday season, a large fundraiser for breast cancer in February, and every other excuse to party in between. He’d never make it through one, let alone a full calendar of social events.

The growing heat and humidity of a New York City summer hit him. So different from the cool breezes he’d felt just a week earlier. A bus from a city university pulled up. Young adults streamed out, backpacks and suitcases in hand. As they swarmed around him, JW tensed, head swiveling from one to the other as if looking for an enemy coming at him.

“Sir?” the chauffer paused with his hand on the door handle. JW stared at him, realizing the man had seen his reaction. “Would you prefer to go somewhere else? Instead of the Franklin?”

As JW removed his leather jacket, he considered that and nodded. The younger man opened the door and he tossed his duffle bag in. “Take me to the Club.”

“Yes, sir.”

JW climbed in and closed his eyes as the door was shut with a solid, but quiet, thud. Then the driver got behind the wheel, closed his door, and they began moving through the traffic.

“Let me guess. Grant knew I’d prefer the Club.” Did his cousin know him that well?