San Francisco: The Complete Trilogy Page 16

  “I do,” James assured him. “I’m going to start tomorrow night by collaring her, with the leather collar, just for the weekend. That won’t be an official official collaring, as you so elegantly put it, but rather a temporary affair.”

  “And then?” Jun asked.

  “And then…I’m going to arrange to run into her at a restaurant in town.”

  “You’re going to arrange a meet-cute?” Jun asked.

  “A meet-cute? Where do you come up with these ridiculous terms?”

  “Get some pop culture, man,” Jun scolded. They walked back to their chairs. “So you arrange to meet her, supposedly for the first time, somewhere public. That way you get around the no-fraternizing rule.”

  “Exactly.”

  “And then?”

  James smiled. “I have a jet standing by. I’m thinking Morocco.”

  “A week in a secluded, quaint hotel?”

  “Yes.”

  Jun raised a brow. “A fetish hotel?”

  James took a sip. “No. That will come later.”

  “So you’re going to take her for a romantic getaway.”

  “I plan to take my kit,” James said, feeling a trifle defensive.

  “Okay, so maybe you do a little bit of kink, but you won’t do any serious play at some random hotel.”

  “True,” he admitted.

  “You want to date her,” Jun declared.

  “Date? What are we, in secondary school?” James rolled his eyes and took another sip.

  “You like her.”

  “Of course I like her.”

  “I meant you like her.”

  “Putting odd emphasis on the word doesn’t make it different.”

  “You’re being deliberately obtuse.”

  “Jun, drop it.” James finished his glass and stood. His friend was right—he had feelings for Christiana that he’d never had for another woman, yet he didn’t want to talk about them.

  Because if he thought about it, he might second-guess his plans. He might start to wonder when this infatuation would fade, when his natural asshole-induced ennui would cause him to hurt her.

  Maybe this time would be different. A man could hope.

  “Can I be best man at the wedding?” Jun asked.

  James picked a heavy leather pillow up off the couch and threw it at Jun.

  Tomorrow. He’d see her tomorrow.

  He couldn’t wait.

  Chapter 13

  San Francisco

  She didn’t want to be here.

  Christiana forced herself to smile as a man approached her. The munch—a BDSM meet-and-greet-style party—was taking place in the basement of a coffee shop, after hours. The long, narrow space was packed with people in a variety of outfits, from those who looked like they’d just gotten off work at a bank or brokerage firm, to those who wore nothing but a few straps of leather.

  It had been exactly twenty-eight days since she’d last seen James.

  It was Saturday, and assuming the event in Luxembourg was truly one month after the previous event and followed the same pattern as the one in San Francisco, tonight was the last night. By now James knew she wasn’t going to show up, and had probably moved on to someone else. Someone who deserved him.

  She’d spent Wednesday staring at a travel app on her phone, finger hovering over the button to purchase a wildly expensive last-minute ticket to Luxembourg.

  Thursday she’d worried for 14 hours, then gotten horrifically drunk all by herself in her apartment.

  Friday she’d called in sick, and spent the day alternately crying and hating herself.

  Tonight she was quietly disgusted with herself, but determined to try and move on with her life. She wasn’t the sort of woman to wallow or give up. That determination had led her to the munch. Maybe what she had with James wasn’t special or unique. Maybe she just needed another Dom, any Dom.

  “Hello, Christina.”

  She’d been so absorbed in her thoughts she hadn’t seen the man approach. She jumped a little in surprise.

  The man standing in front of her had mispronounced her name—Christina instead of Christiana—but maybe she hadn’t written it clearly on the stick-on nametag she wore.

  She checked his nametag and then said, “Hello, Dino.”

  Dino? At least you said it with a straight face.

  “It’s Master Dino,” he corrected, chest swelling. He wasn’t a bad looking man—a few inches taller than her, with close-cropped honey-blond hair. He was broad and thick-set, though she wouldn’t call him heavy. He wore small round-framed glasses, which seemed at odds with his appearance. He was young, maybe mid-twenties, and with a different haircut and no glasses might have looked like a frat boy.

  She swirled the sparking water in her plastic glass. The munches had a strict no-alcohol policy. She wondered what the nice, older woman hosting the event would say if she’d seen the warehouse, where expensive alcohol flowed freely.

  “Christina?” Dino said again.

  She forced herself to focus. “I thought they said we weren’t supposed to call anyone ‘Master’ until we knew them and had a contract.”

  Dino snorted. “Places like this are too conservative.”

  A woman wearing X’s of electrical tape over her nipples and nothing more walked by.

  “Conservative,” Christiana repeated.

  “Real BDSM happens in private.” He leaned in closer. “At secret clubs.”

  That got her attention. “Secret clubs?”

  “Yes. Have you ever been to one?”

  “Yes.”

  She remembered the smell of James’s skin and the way he’d touched her. Remembered the bliss of surrender and the power of arousal.

  “You have?” Dino smiled. “I thought you might be.”

  “I might be what?”

  “Like me. A more…serious player than these people.”

  She had no idea if she was a serious player. All she’d ever had were those three nights. All she’d ever had was James.

  It was foolish of her to pine for him. The minute she hadn’t shown up, he’d probably been fleetingly annoyed or upset, and either way, by now he’d know she wasn’t who she said she was, or rather he knew that Christiana—the presumably globetrotting wealthy woman he’d spent three nights with—wasn’t real. He’d undoubtedly moved on.

  She needed to move on.

  “Maybe I am,” she agreed.

  Dino smiled, and it seemed smug. James had never seemed smug. “Perhaps you’d like to go someplace else and talk?”

  Comparing Dino to James wasn’t going to get her anywhere. Now that she’d experienced submission, she knew that she would not be content to ignore that part of herself. That’s why she’d signed up for kink websites and RSVPed to munches, though this was the first one she’d gone to. She needed to find someone who could touch her the way James had.

  No one will ever make you feel the way James did.

  She ignored that little voice inside her head and forced herself to smile. “Yes, Dino, I’d like that.”

  “Master Dino,” he corrected her sternly. “Come with me.”

  Christiana glanced around the room, then at Dino’s back. She wondered what James was doing, what he was thinking, right now.

  She followed Dino out of coffee shop. By the time she reached the sidewalk, a rideshare car was already pulling up. Dino opened the door. “Get in.”

  She hesitated. “Where are we going?”

  “Someplace you’ll enjoy. Someplace designed for BDSM play.”

  The warehouse had been designed for BDSM. Maybe if he could take her someplace like that, it would work. Maybe she could forget James. She glanced at the car, then at Dino.

  “I will give you what you need,” he said quietly.

  Christiana turned towards the car, ignoring the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach.

  James stood on the balcony of the lovely estate home twenty miles outside of Luxembourg City. There was nothing around them f
or miles, and the estate was walled, with top-notch security, so the festivities had spilled out onto the terrace below, where the scantily clad revelers were lounging, scening, and fucking under heat lamps. Up here, on the balcony off the second-floor ballroom, the wind was cold. It cut through his thin shirt, making his skin rise in goose bumps.

  The way hers had on their second night together, when she’d slept in his arms.

  James’s jaw clenched. The custom-made jeweled collar dangled from one hand. He looked down at it, at the diamonds winking in the starlight. For a wild moment, he considered throwing it off the balcony, into the garden beyond the terrace.

  He should do it. The collar was a reminder of what a fool he was. He’d been wrong, miserably wrong, about Christiana.

  The first night of the event he’d waited, nearly bouncing with anticipation, for her to emerge from the suite of rooms the submissives were using. At three a.m., when it was clear she wasn’t going to show, he’d left early, emotions whirling in a disgusting mix of embarrassment, anger, and worry.

  Last night he’d waited again, watching the stream of women and a few men all clad in white, but Christiana hadn’t been among them. Again, he’d gone back to the city early, and ignored Jun when his friend came looking for him.

  He’d come tonight, hope a stubborn occupant of his heart, wearing tan slacks, a cream shirt, and a gold brocade vest. He’d put thought into what he would wear each night, since Christiana had seemed to take the themes seriously, in a way he never had. He’d been looking forward to what she would choose to wear for the three color-themed nights—black, white, and gold.

  She wasn’t coming.

  Perhaps she’d had some sort of family or business emergency, and didn’t have a way to get word to him that she wouldn’t be able to make it. That was his favorite of the many possible reasons for her absence that he’d come up with.

  But there were other possibilities. He’d scared her off, pushed her too fast and too far her first event. Maybe she wanted something casual, and because he’d pushed a commitment by insisting on making plans for this party, she’d decided to give up on the society.

  The first night he’d been shocked, and then felt stupid. Last night he’d been angry and bitter, if still hopeful.

  But none of those were his primary emotions right now. Tonight…

  He was worried about her. He couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something wrong. Maybe it was the expression he’d glimpsed a few times on their final night in San Francisco, a sort of sadness that he’d interpreted to be nervousness about breaking the rules.

  But now she wasn’t here, and he was wondering if she’d known that last night in San Francisco that she wouldn’t be, and that’s why she’d asked if they could have one more night together.

  What if she was dying and didn’t want to tell him?

  If Jun were here he’d say that was crazy, but Jun was somewhere amid the revelers downstairs, which meant James was alone with his thoughts. James’s stomach was knotted with anxiety. He knew, somehow, impossibly, he knew.

  There was something wrong.

  Christiana was in danger.

  San Francisco Lost

  Chapter 1

  “I will give you what you need,” the man who called himself Master Dino said softly.

  What she needed was James, but she couldn’t have him. She’d lied to him, spent three stolen nights with him and even fooled herself into thinking she could be with him, before reality sank in. He was one of the world’s uber-wealthy, a member of a traveling BDSM secret society called the Orchid Club.

  She was a quiet, maybe slightly odd civil engineer, who spent most of her income on rent so she could avoid having a roommate in the Bay Area’s insane housing market. She had no place in his world, nor he in hers. But maybe she could find that same intense connection with someone else. That was her hope. That was why she’d been at the BDSM mixer.

  And that was where she’d met Dino, who five minutes after meeting her had invited her to leave with him. Now she was standing on the street corner, at both a physical and metaphorical crossroads—get in the car with Dino, or abandon any hope of finding a man, a Dom, to replace James, and go home.

  More specifically, she would be getting in the car with a total stranger to go to an unknown location.

  What are you doing? This is dangerous!

  Christiana blocked out the increasingly shrill voice in her head. She felt oddly detached from what was happening. She slid into the car, ignoring the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach.

  She sat in silence in the back, a silence made easier by the slightly-too-loud volume of the driver’s music. The part of her that hadn’t gone numb was carefully tracking where they were in the city, and it wasn’t far to their destination—only a few miles, though it took fifteen minutes thanks to traffic.

  Dino climbed out first, then came around and opened her door. While he was circling the car, Christiana craned her neck to see the driver’s phone screen, where the destination address—their current location—was displayed. She quickly typed it into her phone and sent a text to Ginger with the address and “met a guy, going back to his place.”

  Dino opened her door and offered his hand to help her out. His hand seemed too large and was slightly sweaty when she took it, but it was the gesture of a gentleman.

  Her phone, still in her other hand, chimed.

  What? Get it, gurl! But also, be safe. If I don’t hear from you soon, I’m calling the cops.

  Christiana smiled and tucked her phone into her bag.

  “Letting someone know where you are?” Dino asked.

  Christiana looked at him warily. “Yes. Is that a problem?”

  “Of course not. You need to be safe. I need to be safe.” He grinned, showing too many teeth. “I’ll text a friend too, in case you turn out to be a nut.”

  “Safety first,” Christiana replied. She forced her lips to curve, but the smile didn’t last.

  Dino’s expression turned serious as the rideshare car pulled away. “This way.” He grabbed her elbow, tugging her along to the front gate of a narrow, three-story apartment complex, tucked tightly between the buildings on either side of it. The building was clearly new, with large, brightly colored panels mounted to the exterior of the U-shaped building. The gate opened into a long, narrow courtyard. Each front door that faced onto the courtyard was painted the same color as one of the large panels on the exterior of the building.

  Dino led her to an orange door. Unlike many of the others they’d passed, there was no bike or potted plants on the small concrete stoop, just a black welcome mat that said go away.

  I wonder if that makes it a go away mat instead of a welcome mat.

  He released her arm to fish in his pocket and pull out a set of keys, which he used to unlock the door, pushing it open and ushering her inside.

  Christiana hesitated, the rational voice in her mind screaming Do not enter this stranger’s apartment!

  She stepped through the doorway.

  Once inside, it was clear this wasn’t an apartment, but rather a multi-story townhouse. Dino probably had money. Not like the members of the yacht-and-fifty-super-cars-owning-members-of-the-Orchid-Club, but enough to afford space in San Francisco, which was wealthy by most people’s standards.

  “Subs aren’t allowed to wear shoes in my house. Unless they’re stilettos.”

  Dino’s voice had changed, becoming harder, with a bit of a sneer in it.

  That broke through some of the detachment that had carried Christiana this far. She turned to face him. “Shouldn’t that be part of the contract we negotiate?”

  He reached out, grabbed her by the shoulder, and then forced her to her knees. Christiana’s purse fell to the floor and she yelped in pain. She grabbed his wrist, trying to force his hand off her. In that moment she was more shocked than scared, and a bit annoyed by how hard his fingers were digging into her.

  Dino grabbed her by the throat, squeezing just
enough that fear—real, mortal fear—lanced through her.

  Oh god oh god oh god. Ginger is going to call the cops, but not for hours. She had to get out of this on her own.

  “You and I don’t need a contract, do we, slave? You want what I will give you.”

  Christiana tried to pry his fingers from her throat, her mouth opening and closing. She managed to let out a strangled scream.

  Dino blinked behind his glasses and let go. “Oh, was that too much?”

  Christiana was shaking from adrenaline, kneeling there on the floor of the small entrance hall. His abrupt change from almost strangling her to looking baffled barely registered. This was a mistake, one of many she’d made recently.

  Keeping her movements slow and controlled, she grabbed her purse and stood. Her heart was pounding in her chest. “I should go.” The words were shaky, but hopefully casual enough that he wouldn’t know how scared she was.

  “Ah, damn. Listen, that was too much, too fast.” He sounded worried and contrite.

  Christiana looked at him through her lashes, her racing heart calming. Dino took off the glasses, setting them and his keys down on a small table that was covered in mail. It was such a normal gesture that her fear faded. She’d seen things when she was with James that were even more dangerous and aggressive than what Dino had just done.

  Miscommunication. That was what this was.

  If she wanted this, she needed to take a risk, the way she had at the warehouse. She needed to be Alice once more.

  “You scared me a little,” she said softly.

  He looked at her, his gaze traveling down her, his lips curling up. “Come on, let me show you something.”

  He went first, up two flights of stairs to the third floor. She followed him, telling herself with each step that she could turn around. With him in front of her, her escape path was clear, and she felt calmer.

  As they climbed higher, she kept up an internal monologue, using it to force down the fight-or-flight reaction that had left her fingers trembling. What had happened in the foyer was a misunderstanding—he’d tried to come on too strong, jump right into a scene. Now that he knew she didn’t want that, he’d backed off.