“Since that’s settled,” Candice remarked briskly, back to her usual demeanor, although she seemed damn determined not to look in Brady’s direction, “do you mind getting the hell out of my apartment?”
Michael peered down at Lacey. “Can I drive you home?”
The indecision on her face was like a punch to the gut, which made the relief he experienced when she murmured, “Let me get my boots and bag,” all the more profound. Candice followed behind Lacey as she went for her things, whispering something Michael couldn’t decipher.
When they were out of earshot, Brady said, “It’s about time you got back on the horse.”
“That it is.”
“Who is she? I’ve never seen her at the club.”
“That’s because she’s never been to it.”
“Really? A newbie?” Brady didn’t attempt to mask his surprise.
Michael nodded curtly as Lacey returned, knowing exactly what Brady was thinking.
Newbies on the scene went one of two ways. They either embraced their inner kink or they shunned it. Whether in public or private, those who embraced their desires enjoyed the freedom it provided, while those who shunned it kept their less-than-vanilla sexual preferences under wraps, or lived a lie, or genuinely had zero interest in exploring the lifestyle. When it came to relationships in which one person was in the community and the other was not, there was very rarely any middle ground.
As Michael wrapped his arm around Lacey’s waist, said goodbye to Brady and guided her toward the stairs, he decided that no matter what it took he would find a way to make things work.
Chapter Eight
It started with flowers.
Despite the fact that Michael drove her home, he didn’t press the issue when Lacey informed him that she needed time to think things over. Instead he dropped her off without asking to come inside, told her he’d have her car brought to her the next day and said that she’d hear from him soon.
She’d spent the day thinking things over but wasn’t able to come to any definitive conclusions.
The very next morning as she sat down to return emails and reschedule the work she’d missed, she heard a knock on her door. Considering she was nowhere near town, she was impressed when she learned that not only had her vehicle been returned but a florist was waiting on her porch to present her with a large bouquet of roses.
The crystalline vase housing the flowers was squared, the etchings along the rim done by hand.
There were a dozen roses total—six white and six red. After she closed the door and placed the arrangement on her coffee table, she examined the envelope. It was plain and white, without any adornments. Once she’d pulled open the flap and removed the card she discovered one word: Limousine.
Her breath caught and she ran her fingers along the cursive handwriting, recognizing the clear penmanship. Michael had written the note himself. She had no idea what it meant.
That was on Tuesday.
On Wednesday she received another floral arrangement, this time with a dozen yellow and pink blooms, and another plain card with Michael’s handwriting that stated Seven o’clock.
She was tempted to call Michael and learn where he was going with his flowers and cryptic messages. Unfortunately her agent got wind of her request for a change in legal representation. That meant she spent a majority of her day on the phone, arguing over logistics and explaining exactly why it was she refused to remain the client of a cheating pig bastard.
On Thursday the florist arrived again, this time with a massive teddy bear. As she took the stuffed animal and accepted the envelope that came along with it, she felt her resolve crumbling. Aside from his cards, there had been no contact between them. She’d asked for space and he’d given her what she asked for. Opening the envelope, she found there was a single word scribbled across the surface of the card inside: Tomorrow.
Although she didn’t know what he had in store, it wasn’t difficult to put Limousine, Seven o’clock and Tomorrow together. Whatever was coming, she decided she wanted to be prepared.
Getting her hair done and legs waxed was easy, it was shopping that took more time than she would have liked. Was this a date of some kind? Or did Michael have something wickedly naughty up his sleeve? After choosing a simple black dress with gossamer sleeves and satin cuffs at the wrists, she went to the shoe store, purchased two pairs of shoes—red and black patent leather heels—and stopped by an exclusive and extremely expensive lingerie shop for a corset, panty, garter and stocking set. While she was there, she also chose a few of the same items in different colors. Considering she hadn’t worn that kind of thing since college, her underwear drawer needed an update. Besides, a girl could never be too prepared.
She felt different as she stood before the dressing room mirror clothed in nothing but skimpy garments and fuck-me-silly heels. Never before had she dared to dress so provocatively. How would Michael react when he saw her like this? Or would he seize the opportunity at all?
On Friday morning she was awake and ready as a car pulled into her driveway. Only this time it wasn’t a florist who greeted her—the man who knocked on her door worked for Rosie’s Jewelry.
The sleek automobile stopped in front of her home and a man dressed in a suit stepped out.
Whatever he was carrying was compact enough to fit inside a small bag he carried with his gloved fingers and was expensive enough that it required a signature. After she signed for the package and thanked him, the man gave her a smile, told her to have a nice day and off he went.
When she sat down on her sofa, removed the rectangular box from the bag and found a thin white gold-and-diamond-encrusted choker with the note Wear This, she knew it was time to make a phone call. If she was going to see where a relationship with Michael would take her, she needed to be armed with information that no mere Google search could provide. There was only one source who could give her the answers she needed most.
Candice seemed nervous— too nervous—when Lacey invited her to an early lunch. Fortunately, she accepted when Lacey told her it was important. Now, seated at one of the rear booths of the trendy Rolo’s Café, Lacey watched and waited for her friend to arrive. Deep down she knew that Candice was holding out on her. If she was being honest, she’d known her friend was holding something back the night Candy had warned her to steer clear of Michael unless she was into kinky sex. The only reason she hadn’t questioned Candy about how she knew so much was because it wasn’t her business. Not to mention if it involved Candice’s job, she’d be given the proper and well-deserved kiss-off. In light of recent events, however, Lacey decided to take all the information she could get—even if it meant crossing a line.
When Candice arrived she was weighed down by her usual gadgets—cell phone, laptop and camera. She was one of the best investigative reporters in the city for a damn good reason. Spotting Lacey, she hurried over and began pulling multiple straps from her torso. As she slid into the booth she placed her belongings on the floor near her feet.
“All right, spill.” Candy sighed as she relaxed in her seat. “I had to ditch a kick-ass lead to meet you. This had better be good.”
Taking a deep breath, Lacey recalled the speech she’d made in the mirror earlier in the morning. There was no time like the present to get the answers she wanted.
“I need you to tell me how you knew about Michael.”