Club Dominion was closed on Sunday nights, but Jason kept a private playroom here and had round-the-clock access to it. The moment he let himself into the dark, still dungeon, he realized it wasn’t the room he sought, but the memories.
Quickly making his way down the hall, he pictured his wife as he’d first seen her, arresting a rowdy drunk in the parking lot who’d been harassing females entering. She’d been questioning the club’s owner, Mitchell Thorpe. Despite the badge on her chest and the holstered gun at her side, everything about her expression and posture had shouted that she leaned submissive. When she’d looked at him with her soft, dark eyes, Jason’s need to possess her had slammed into him like a visceral force. But she’d been gone before he could even learn her name.
The next evening, he’d spotted her out of uniform, entering Dominion with Thorpe, who both escorted and explained. Jason hadn’t wasted a second before approaching her. The Dungeon Master had introduced the beauty as Greta. An oddly German name for an obviously Italian girl, but he accepted that she’d chosen a club name as a way to protect her anonymity, especially important since she worked in law enforcement.
They’d talked that first night for hours, mostly about the lifestyle, what she secretly yearned for, what she wanted to understand…and what he would be more than happy to give her.
For over a blissful year, Jason had. Casually at first, of course. He purposely didn’t form attachments to others. It wasn’t logical when so many merely sought him for his net worth. But from the start, his wife had been different.
Over time, she’d grown from an anxious novice, unsure if she truly wanted to pursue the lifestyle, to an eager, if somewhat willful submissive. During those months, he’d learned her beautiful soul, and their connection had grown. Shockingly, she lacked interest in his money or stature. At first, he’d wondered if her silence on the subject was a ploy to disarm him. Then his infatuation had kicked in, and he’d stopped thinking altogether.
When he’d been foolish enough to make their relationship permanent, everything had gone to hell. Now he had a wound with her name on it. He’d tried to patch and heal it…but he’d never been successful. Since Jason wasn’t accustomed to failing, the bleeding bothered him even more.
“Hi, Denning.” Thorpe stepped out of the shadows. “It’s been weeks since you’ve darkened these halls. What are you doing here tonight? Not a lot of action.”
Thorpe leaned against the wall, his pose seemingly casual. Bullshit. Nothing the man ever did lacked purpose.
Jason shrugged. Thorpe was one of the few who knew he’d married “Greta” and that it hadn’t worked out. Thankfully, he’d never asked questions.
Unfortunately, Jason had a hard time maintaining a similar silence. “Have you heard from her?”
Thorpe cocked his head. “Greta is no longer a member here.”
That made Jason stiffen and his seeping wound throb. “That’s not her name. Don’t treat me as if I don’t know any better. I’m her fucking husband.”
“My apologies.” Thorpe’s tone was smooth and somehow not apologetic at all. “Gia is no longer a member, then.”
“She let her fees lapse? I’ll pay them.”
“No. She called me last month to revoke them. I refunded her the unused portion.”
“And it didn’t occur to you to call me first?” He tried not to sound like he was seething.
Apparently calling him hadn’t occurred to Gia, either. In fact, she had reached out to the club owner before she’d contacted her own husband. More unexpected pain whacked him. Dominion had been his first common thread with her. The place had brought them together. And she had renounced it without a word.
“Gia asked me not to. I respected her privacy, just like I do everyone in this club.”
Just then, a petite pixie of a brunette padded through the dungeon with her phone pressed to her ear and a grin on her face. Her tinkling laughter somehow brightened the room. Even from a distance, Jason saw her blue eyes dance with a hint of mischief.
No way Thorpe failed to miss it, either.
“You mean like you’re protecting Callie’s privacy now?” Jason drawled.
“She’s different.”
“How?” he questioned. “Unless I miss my guess, she’s on the phone with Sean. She accepted his collar months ago, but you’re eavesdropping on her conversation like whatever she says or does is still your business.”
Thorpe watched the beauty as if he’d forfeit a limb for the chance to touch her. Once, the two of them had been close—not lovers, but certainly more than friends. Jason had no idea what had caused their rift, but clearly the club owner wasn’t letting go. And as Callie stole a longing glance at her boss, Jason knew Thorpe’s feelings weren’t one-sided.
“Listen to me because I’m only going to say this once.” Thorpe clenched his jaw. “I protect every woman who passes through those doors, regardless of who or what they require shielding from. Your wife chose this separation. I’m respecting her wishes. I suggest you do the same.”
“Do you enjoy the distance between you and Callie these days?” Jason watched the woman end her call with a happy little sigh that left him little doubt she had feelings for Sean. Thorpe looked ready to spit nails. “I don’t think so, but you let it happen. That’s your choice. Good for you. But I didn’t ask for this separation from Gia.”
“I understand,” Thorpe said.
Regardless of the platitude, the man wasn’t going to budge. Thorpe, of all people, should fucking comprehend how agonizing this situation was.
Cursing under his breath, Jason resisted an unusually violent urge and tried and another tactic.
“I can’t find my wife. I’m worried about her. She was going through a great deal of personal trauma when we split. She sold her house, disconnected her number. I don’t know if she’s all right or needs my help. She’s my responsibility.”
“She’s my client. I’ve sworn to protect her privacy. Sorry.”
His empty apology nearly yanked the leash off Jason’s inner caveman. Maybe being alone for the last eleven and a half months had finally unhinged him. Maybe it was that damn hollow ache gashing his chest and infecting his judgment. Maybe seeing his mother had shown him the future he now stared down. Whatever.
“That’s not putting my fears to rest.” He gritted between clenched teeth.
“I can’t help you.”
Jason didn’t want to argue with Thorpe. The man was as bendable as steel. But he refused to give up because he wasn’t going to heal without seeing Gia again. “Tell me something. What would you do if Callie left Dominion—and you—without warning?”
Thorpe’s face tightened as he searched for the right response. “There is no place she can go where I won’t find her.”
Jason saw his opportunity and seized it. “But what if she disappeared? Wouldn’t you goddamn look for her and want to chew the head off of anyone who kept her from you?”
With a sigh, Thorpe sized him up. Resolution crossed his face. “Come into my office and have a drink. We’ll talk.”
That sounded like as much fun as a lobotomy, but it was progress. Besides, the Dungeon Master had left him little choice.
After trailing the man into his well-appointed office, Jason sat in a cushy leather chair. Thorpe lifted a cut crystal decanter of Scotch from a heavy cabinet and poured him a glass. With a nod, Jason took it. “Thanks.”
After rounding his sizeable desk, Thorpe sank into what could only be called his throne. “Start at the beginning and fill in the blanks for me. Tell me what I’m not seeing in this picture.”