“So if I ever had to unexpectedly to help out a former flame, you’d be fine with that?”
He didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”
“You wouldn’t even question it? As possessive as you are?”
“I’m not you, Lacey.” The way he said it told her it was as painful for him to say aloud as it was for her to hear. “And I’m not Scott. If you told me you needed to help a friend I wouldn’t care if the person were a man or a woman. I trust you to be faithful. You’ve never given me a reason not to.”
She wanted to be angry. She wanted to yell and scream and tell him that he was wrong.
But she couldn’t.
Just thinking of him with another woman had her so jealous she immediately jumped to conclusions. Michael was right, he was not Scott. From the start he’d been open and honest. All he wanted was her trust. He’d told her he was a monogamous man. He’d been nothing but truthful when it came to Aly. While she felt justified in her reaction, his arrival at her doorstep, beaten and bruised, told her she’d been way off the mark.
“This is about more than Aly, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” He met her gaze without blinking.
“You want me to prove something to you.”
“I do.”
She took a deep breath for courage and went for broke. “Tell me.”
It was apparent he’d already decided how she could prove she trusted him. Perhaps that had been his intention all along. God help her, she should have spoken to him instead of losing her composure when he’d showed up. Honestly, she was no better when it came to control. Everything about him excited her, called to her and lured her in. Unfortunately it also turned her into a bitch she hardly recognized.
“I want you to prepare yourself for me tonight. Take a long bath, pamper that beautiful body of yours and put on lingerie you’re fully comfortable being seen in. The only things you should wear aside from that are the necklace I gave you and a sexy pair of heels. When I come to get you, we’ll see if this is what you truly want. There won’t be any questions or answers. You’ll do what I say, when I say it.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
“Is this a test?” She stared across the bedroom, feeling the distance was far greater than the few feet that separated them.
“You can call it that.” He shrugged. “I like to think of it as a possible beginning for both of us.
After tonight, there will be no question if you do or don’t trust me, or if you’re ready to enter into a committed relationship.”
She wanted to ask more questions but he didn’t allow her to. Instead he walked out her bedroom door, presenting her with his departing back. She listened in silence as his footsteps traveled down her hallway and creaked across her living room.
Then she heard her front door open and close.
Don’t turn back. You did what you had to do. The ball’s in her court now.
Michael made it to the car he’d borrowed, opened the door and climbed inside. Once his back hit the cushioned seat, he allowed himself to relax for the first time since he’d walked out of Lacey’s door. He’d known it wouldn’t be an easy conversation. He just hadn’t anticipated how angry he’d become, or how close he’d come to losing his temper.
He grabbed his cell from the passenger seat before he cranked the engine and turned the vehicle around. It was sheer torture not to take a glimpse in the rearview and see if Lacey was watching him. One part of him wanted to see if she’d make the effort. Another part of him worried she’d already decided to wipe her hands clean.
Shaking off his doubts, he called Fantasia’s back line. If Vaughn wasn’t overseeing the daily clean-up by now, he’d be in his office. The phone rang twice before he heard his friend’s voice.
“Who am I speaking to and what do you want?”
“I need a favor.”
“First Brady, then Brian and Trevor, and now you. This seems to be a recurring theme.”
“Do you remember the morning I got up at three a.m. to haul Shiloh out of a ditch? If I recall correctly, you said you owed me. I’m collecting.”
“That was over a year ago. Isn’t there a statute of limitation for favors?”
“Sure,” he replied. “Since we’re cleaning the slate I can finally tell Shiloh who wanted to pick her up that night. And when I say pick her up, I don’t mean give her a lift.”
“What’s the favor?”
“I want the exhibitionist’s room tonight.”
“Really?” Vaughn chuckled. “That’s not your usual cuppa.”
“I didn’t ask for your opinion. I asked for the room.”
“I’ll reserve it for you.”
“Thanks.”
“No problem.”
He’d started to hang up when Vaughn stopped him. “Was Shiloh at Trevor’s when you left?”
“Yes, she said she was staying until Aly was set. Why do you ask?”
“Someone called here looking for her. When I tried her cell she didn’t answer.”
“Did you call the house?”
“No.” Vaughn sounded annoyed. “I figured they had enough problems without me adding to them.”
“I left a few hours ago. If she’s not there, she probably went home. She didn’t get any sleep last night.”
“She didn’t say anything about seeing someone, did she?”
The reason behind the owner of Fantasia’s bad mood was now glaringly apparent. It appeared everyone was having issues with women—including Vaughn.
“Not to me.”
Vaughn grumbled something before he said, “I’ll try her later. The room is reserved. I’ve booked it for the entire night. Anything else you need while your wish is my command?”
“Just luck,” he said, ended the call, and started the long, lonely drive home.
Chapter Fifteen
Michael arrived at her doorstep at eight sharp. Lacey had done exactly as he asked. She was in the red corset and garter set she’d purchased when she made the trip into town. The black stockings she’d donned contrasted nicely with the blood-red satin and lace, although Michael hadn’t stipulated she could wear those. She’d finally decided stockings were underwear, especially when they were paired with four-inch red high heels.
Deciding how to do her hair and makeup took hours. In the end she went for simple and refined. She left her hair long and straight, allowing the strands to flow down her back. She decided against fake lashes, obnoxious blush or darkly kohled lids, choosing instead to bring attention to her green eyes with brown shadow, liquid liner and good old-fashioned mascara.
The cold wind caused her nipples to pebble through the lace as she opened the door. She quickly stepped aside and Michael walked in.
Sweet Mother of God.
He had on leather pants, a pressed white dress shirt, a black trench coat and a pair of boots that showed no signs of wear. With his shoulder-length hair and slightly battered face, he looked like a damn pirate straight out of a romance novel, only better.
He didn’t say a word as he wrapped his arm under her elbow and escorted her to the bathroom.
It was almost surreal, remaining silent when there was so much she wanted to say. He guided her inside, flicked on the light and looked at her through the mirror.
“Tonight you’ll address me as Master. You won’t speak unless spoken to or asked a question, and you’ll be wearing this.” He pulled a blindfold from his pocket. “At any time, if you realize this isn’t what you want, you can remove this,” he shook the black object in his hand, “or say red. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Master.” She was as aroused as she was terrified. Tonight she’d literally be going in blind.
“Before we can go any further, you’ll need to sign this.” He produced a folded document from his coat along with a pen. “You can’t enter the club without knowing and consenting to the rules.”