Club Desire: My Obsession Part 19

Another trip to their house would have been foolhardy at that point, so he had come back to the motel to shower and regroup.

The Roman orgy started at eight p.m. sharp. An out-of-town dungeon master from Detroit had organized a road trip for people who wanted to visit the famous "Club Desire." He sneered. He had done some checking on Brent Weston. He hadn't inherited his riches, as Diego had originally thought. No, he was a bona fide self-made man, much to Diego's irritation. The d.a.m.n man was a highly sought-after efficiency expert both in the United States and abroad. That, along with some great investments and plenty of luck, had propelled him to where he was-one of the many millionaires who lived here in this h.e.l.lhole called Arizona.

Diego traced the darkening bruise that ran along his jaw just under his right ear. It was still tender, and he couldn't believe the a.s.shole had marked him like that. He had bought some under-eye concealer at the drugstore posing as a helpful husband so the clerk would help him choose one that would work well. He hoped that cover story would throw off anyone who came asking questions. This trip was causing too many small things that could be traced back to him if someone dug deep enough.

Now he just had to figure out how to use the event tonight to get close enough to Sandra to separate her from anyone who would help her.

- The doorbell chimed, and Sandra glanced at the small screen the contractor had just installed inside the house next to the front door. The foreman smiled at her on the screen, and behind him she could see the walkway and a strip of the street where his white truck was still parked. The yard had finally dried out after Monday's horrible storm, but they could see enough on the monitor to know what might be going on in front of the house and possibly alert them to any trouble.

She unlocked the door and let him in.

He was a gangly man with red hair and a thick Irish accent. "It's all set. We're waiting to install one more part for the doorbell and it's all done. Then we'll run you through everything to make sure it works, clean up our gear, and get out of your hair. Give me about twenty minutes and I'll be back for you to sign off on our work."

Before Sandra could ask what else he could possibly be installing, he was out the door and out of earshot. She shook her head. When Brent said he was going to send someone to beef up security, she and Mich.e.l.le hadn't realized the enormity of what that would entail. Not that they didn't appreciate it. With the improvements they'd seen so far, both of them felt safer and more confident about living in this neighborhood as two women alone.

She had insisted Brent bring her home last night when Mich.e.l.le moved back in from the hotel where she'd been staying. It had been tough sleeping alone after three wonderful nights falling asleep in Brent's arms, but she didn't want to make Mich.e.l.le sleep here alone her first night back.

Some of the doors and windows had been replaced.

It wasn't a bad neighborhood, just older, and there had been a few break-ins and some vandalism a few streets over during the past few months as well as the junkie and the episode that landed her in the hospital.

But Sandra was glad the work was nearly finished. Mich.e.l.le had let in the men doing the installation this morning before she had left for work, which was much more trusting than she usually was, even though Sandra had already been awake and having hot tea and honey with some breakfast-an addiction she had picked up from her few days staying with Brent.

Brent had tried to talk Mich.e.l.le into letting him move them into a newer home in a more upscale neighborhood, but Mich.e.l.le had flatly refused. She said it was one thing to accept some security updates, but she wouldn't let Brent become their "sugar daddy."

At the thought of Brent, Sandra's body warmed, and then a hard pang of longing filled her belly. She hadn't heard from him all day and wouldn't see him until later tonight at Club Desire.

She'd been falling-at least into extreme obsession-for a while now. But had she already fallen all the way...in love? The hard burst of warmth inside her chest was enough to tell her the answer.

She was irrevocably, madly in love with Brent. No matter that they'd only known each other a short time. They might not know every detail about each other yet, but they had time to learn. And being with him felt incredibly right.

And yet, what if Brent didn't feel the same? Her gut tightened at the thought, and she swallowed hard.

She knew he was smitten too, and possibly even as obsessed as she was, but that didn't necessarily equal love. She would have to wait and see what happened between them. It might kill her not to tell the world now that she had realized the depth of her emotions, but she would wait. Either until Brent told her how he felt or until the time was right to spill her deep, dark secret. Either way, it would most likely make the hours until she could see him even more unbearable.

Keeping this secret from him was going to be the hardest thing she'd ever done. She couldn't believe she had felt comfortable enough to tell him all about her childhood. For most of her life she had accepted the fact that she would go to the grave with that knowledge, but it had taken a huge weight off her shoulders to share it with Brent. And she had been incredibly surprised that she was able to talk about it. For some reason Brent slipped past all her barriers, as if they had known and trusted each other forever.

They hadn't played any scenes since the attack, but before that he'd gone out of his way to work around her limits and make her more comfortable, and now she was beginning to see what her old roommate, Darla, and all the other subs had meant about power exchange, subs.p.a.ce, Doms, and all the rest.

She smiled, her chest filling with a buoyant sensation she could only call happiness. She had found her place in Club Desire. She was in love with Brent, she adored Dex, and she already liked Jake, Logan, Min, Sherri, and Valerie. And she absolutely loved and craved Brent's touch and domination. His very loving but firm domination.

She'd known women who claimed to feel that way, but she had always been at the New York club mostly for the friendships. The D/s relationships had been purely a means to an end for a girl who hadn't had a chance to develop full dating and social skills in high school and even college.

Mich.e.l.le breezed in from the kitchen, startling Sandra. She hadn't heard the car or the garage door. But then she'd been lost in her own musings. About Brent. Again.

He seemed to be all she thought about lately, and she couldn't bring herself to be sorry. No matter how quickly the situation had happened, Brent made her happy. Happier than she'd ever been, and she just hoped and prayed that nothing came along to ruin that happiness.

Every other time in her life when she thought things were starting to fall into place for her, something had shattered her world. But this time, no matter what, she would fight for the life that was taking shape around her.

"Sandra?" The concern in Mich.e.l.le's voice made Sandra realize she was scowling and staring at her feet. She looked up and forced a smile, although she was sure her friend knew her well enough to see through the effort.

"Sorry, just caught up in my thoughts. You're home early," she said, trying to redirect the conversation.

Mich.e.l.le nodded. "It was a half day. They're remodeling the restrooms and had to turn the water off, so they sent everyone home. How are you feeling?"

Sandra shrugged, realizing she hadn't needed a Percocet yet this morning so had forgotten all about them. But she didn't want to take them unless she needed them. "I'm starting to feel better. My head isn't throbbing and the big b.u.mp on the back of my head only hurts if I touch it, b.u.mp it, or my hair pulls on it for some reason." She waved the situation away. "So in that respect I'm much better. I just need to get a nap in before going to Club Desire tonight to see Brent." She smiled as thoughts about what Brent had in store for her tonight filled her like helium, making her feel like she might float away.

"Ahh, the beauty of a woman in love. I have to admit, I'm a tiny bit jealous."

Sandra studied her friend. "I almost feel guilty for being so obviously sappy in front of you."

Mich.e.l.le hit Sandra playfully on the arm. "Don't. Just keep an eye out at that dungeon for any hunky men who might be a good match for me."

They both laughed, but Sandra knew that Mich.e.l.le was only partly joking. She would love to have a good man in her life, and they were difficult to find.

The doorbell rang, startling her again. Mich.e.l.le started forward before Sandra could even react, so she just followed slowly as her friend checked the screen next to the door, and after seeing the foreman of the security team opened it.

Half an hour later, they had toured the house and property and had inspected every aspect of the new security measures. A new front and back door had been installed as well as the door that led from the kitchen into the garage, and all three had received new locks. A few of the windows had been replaced that were broken or hadn't been installed correctly in the first place.

The new alarm system required them to punch in a code as soon as they entered the house. The doorbell doubled as a camera and apparently also captured the fingerprints of whoever pressed the b.u.t.ton to ring it. That fingerprint part was the last piece the foreman had installed before calling the job complete.

The man held out a clipboard and a pen to Mich.e.l.le. "If you'll sign at the bottom to signify that the work is complete and that I've gone over everything with you, I'll get out of your hair."

Mich.e.l.le took the clipboard and read the forms carefully before lowering it to look at the foreman. "It says here that by signing it I'm agreeing to pay for all the work..."

He waved away her words. "Mr. Weston has already specified that all bills go to him. You're signing to say that the work is complete and that I went over it with you. I know if Mr. Weston isn't happy that my boss will kick my a.s.s, so I made sure you ladies are taken care of. I'm not sure how they know each other exactly other than my boss said that Mr. Weston saved him a bunch of money several years back." He winked.

Weston...

That was the first time she'd heard Brent's last name.

Brent Weston.

It suited him...and that sense of familiarity she'd had since she'd first seen him in his office pulled at her again.

Had she met Brent before?

The name might sound familiar, but there was no way she'd ever forget the man who now filled her thoughts if she had met him before. She'd never known anyone like him.

Maybe she'd just heard the name somewhere?

Mich.e.l.le took the clipboard with a frown, although by the time she signed the form with a flourish, her expression had cleared and she offered a bright smile to the foreman. "Thank you for all your help."

He ripped off the back copy of the form Mich.e.l.le had signed and handed it to her. "All in the line of duty, ladies. It's been a pleasure." He flashed them a smile as he left.

At the nearly deafening quiet left behind, Sandra turned to find Mich.e.l.le frowning again, staring at her copy of the receipt.

"What's wrong, Mich.e.l.le? What's going on?"

Mich.e.l.le took a deep breath and blew it out before meeting Sandra's gaze. "Come with me. I think I just solved a mystery that's been bugging me for the past week."

Confused, Sandra followed her friend down the hall and into the office.

Mich.e.l.le reached up to pull a dark green book off the very top shelf of her bookshelf. A book that Sandra hadn't seen in ten years. In fact, she wasn't even sure what had happened to her high-school yearbooks. When she'd left Phoenix to move to New York, they hadn't been a priority, and since she wasn't sure what her mother had done with her things, she didn't know if they were even still around.

Mich.e.l.le leafed through the book and then with a little sound of accomplishment, she pointed to a picture and held the book out for Sandra to see.

Mich.e.l.le was pointing to a senior picture of a boy Sandra barely remembered from high school. Looking at him now, Sandra could see he was a cute boy, even with the large Harry Potter gla.s.ses he wore.

She searched her mind, but his name remained elusive. Mich.e.l.le's finger covered the name printed right under the picture.

He'd been one of the kids shunned by the more popular set. If she remembered correctly he'd been extremely smart, and for that as well as his smaller, scrawnier size he'd been labeled a nerd. Several of the football players had reveled in picking on the poor kid. She hadn't spoken to him more than a handful of times before he'd asked her to a dance their senior year.

She winced as that memory came back to her. She had totally avoided dating anyone in high school because she was too ashamed of her home life and had to hide her bruises. So even though she'd felt sympathy for the fear in his eyes as he had asked, her fear mixed with shame had outweighed his. She shook her head trying to remember how she had reacted and how that meeting had ended, but she couldn't recall. It had been too long ago, and too many things had happened since.

"Do you remember him?" Mich.e.l.le prompted.

Sandra nodded and glanced up at her friend. "I don't remember his name, but I remember him. Poor kid. Everyone was pretty mean to him. It had to be a rough way to go through high school."

Mich.e.l.le nodded. "Have you ever wondered what happened to him?"

Shame flooded through her. Even after remembering how horribly he was treated, she hadn't spared a thought for how he'd fared since then. Only for herself. "I haven't, no. But I hope things worked out well for him. He was really smart, and a sweet guy." She remembered the way he had looked at her, like she was a princess in a tower and he wanted nothing more than to be her prince. That was where her memory ended, and she felt a pang of sadness for the boy who had endured high school in such a way.

Mich.e.l.le cleared her throat. "I have a feeling he's done very well for himself. In fact, he may have even transformed himself entirely."

Sandra frowned at something in Mich.e.l.le's voice. She felt like she was missing something, but she had no idea what.

Mich.e.l.le held the book out again and Sandra's gaze was drawn back to the picture. She took in the dark hair and the blue downcast eyes visible even through the thick gla.s.ses, as well as what she would have termed a "baby face" back in high school. Something about the set of his mouth gave her another sudden flash of familiarity, and then Mich.e.l.le moved her finger off the name she'd been covering.

Brent Weston.

A hard stab of ice pierced her stomach, and she sucked in a breath as betrayal burned deep.

Brent.

Her Brent. But how? And why hadn't he told her? She tried to tell herself that maybe he hadn't known who she was either. But then she remembered all the times she had caught him watching her.

The boy who had asked her out in high school. The boy who had most likely had a crush on her, one of the popular girls. The boy she had turned down.

She could see how he might be excited to finally have the girl he had wanted all those years ago. Unfortunately, she now felt like a fool. Like everything they had built between them wasn't actually real.

But now it made sense. She had wondered why a man like Brent would spend time with her, a decidedly broken woman who was a lot of extra work for him as a Dom and didn't even know what she wanted. But knowing what she did now, all the pieces fell into place. She had been the unattainable one and now he had "obtained" her. She wasn't sure where that left them. She had no one to blame but herself. She knew this had all gone too fast and that she should slow down and be more careful, but things at the time had felt too right with Brent, so she had ignored all her internal warnings.

h.e.l.l, until Mich.e.l.le had shown her his high-school picture, everything had still felt right.

She sighed as the grandfather clock chimed the hour, and she glanced over to see that she had only a few hours until she was supposed to meet Brent at Club Desire.

How could she go meet him now? How could she play scenes with him and pretend that nothing had changed?

She couldn't.

Mich.e.l.le gently pulled the book away and closed it with a snap before replacing it on the shelf. "Something about Brent had been bugging me since I first saw you two on the couch. Something made me think I had met him before, but I kept telling myself that if I had ever met anyone remotely resembling Brent I wouldn't have forgotten it."

Sandra remembered thinking the same thing to explain away her flashes of familiarity. But even knowing Mich.e.l.le had the same thought process didn't offer much comfort.

She turned to go, not wanting to endure Mich.e.l.le's sympathetic gaze right now. She clenched her teeth and straightened her spine. Somehow she would find a way to get through this.

Chapter 20.

Brent opened the large cabinets on the wall that his large desk faced. They held a bank of TV monitors that cycled through every view they had of Club Desire. As he'd told Sandra, there were cameras in all the common areas and even in the alcoves-except for his two private ones. People had started to arrive for the orgy in Bas.e.m.e.nt 4 and Jake and his team had their hands full checking IDs, cross-checking them against the list of people who were attending, and turning away those who were just curious to get in.

The group who had booked it had requested an invite-only event, so anyone who wasn't on the list wasn't admitted.

Extra security was placed at all the elevators and around the building. Brent wasn't expecting any problems, but Jake and his security teams usually took care of any before Brent even knew about them. He paid them well and they did terrific work.

His phone buzzed, which meant a call from one of the managers. He hit the speaker b.u.t.ton on the phone. "What's going on?"

A man cleared his throat and Brent immediately recognized it as Jake. "Brent, Sandra is here to see you and I think something is wrong. Should I escort her up to you?"

A heavy ball of dread settled in Brent's stomach. What if Diego had tried to contact her again? Or got close to her? Dex had learned that one of Diego's aliases' credit card numbers had been used several times in Phoenix over the past few days. So unless it had been stolen, Diego was here in town. Did he already know where Sandra was? Brent hoped not, but Dex had Phoenix PD and even some FBI looking for him. Once they found Diego, he would be going away for a very long time, and he wouldn't be able to hurt anyone ever again-especially not Sandra.

"Yes. Thank you, Jake."

A few minutes later the elevator opened, and Sandra stood stiff and tall. Her chin was raised and there was anger and hurt shimmering in her eyes. She wore the same peasant skirt and blue top she had worn the first night she had come to Club Desire and she held a green book that brought back memories of a decade ago.

He stood and walked around the desk toward her.

She stepped forward and the elevator doors shushed closed behind her.

She held the book up like a shield between them. "Why didn't you tell me? Why did you lie to me all this time?" Her voice rose, and he could tell she was trying to hold onto her anger, but the hurt was winning.

He wanted to hold her, to touch her, to try to explain, but she held her hand up in stop-sign fashion and he stilled. "I'm sorry, Sandra. I tried to tell you several times. But we got distracted and I never got back to it. I never meant to hurt you. We are both very different people than we were back then."

He remembered the fear and hurt in her eyes when she had turned him down all those years ago, and the hurt shimmering in her eyes now sliced much deeper. He had caused this.

He had to try to make it right. "Does it really matter that much? We've gotten to know each other now and I think we are very good together."

She laughed, but it was a bitter sound. "So what was it? Because I turned you down you wanted to dominate me, humiliate me, and make me pay?" Tears brimmed in her eyes and slowly slid down her cheeks. "Did you get your revenge, Brent? Did all of this make up for how badly everyone treated you back then?" She was breathing hard, as if she had run a mile.

Her words. .h.i.t hard, but not because any of it was true. It was because she could even think he would do something like that. "I never humiliated you. You craved someone to dominate you. To show you what pa.s.sion and pleasure your body was capable of, and you and I have a great Dom/sub chemistry."