“Yes. We finished on Friday.”
“And did you enjoy the rest of this weekend?” It was sundown on Sunday night, and up until an hour ago Beth had been naked and bound, his to do with as he pleased.
She frowned. “I don’t understand why you’re asking that. You know I did.”
James bit back an exasperated laugh. “Fair enough. We’re done with our game, but I don’t want us—” he gestured between them “—to be over.”
Beth blinked, then a shy smile spread across her face. “You don’t?”
“No.” James took the papers from the desk and passed her a set. “You know that I won’t use a collar, but at Las Palmas that doesn’t matter. Beth, I want us to be bonded.”
Beth looked down at the two-page contract, a simple statement of exclusivity used to formalize relationships between Masters and submissives.
He smiled, waiting for her to look up, waiting to see the happiness in her eyes when she realized that they wanted the same thing. Each other.
Beth set the papers down. “No.”
James stared at her. “What do you mean ‘no’?”
“I won’t sign this. The best I could do is wear a collar.”
“A collar is—”
“A stupid piece of jewelry. This is a contract. Admittedly probably not legally binding, but still, I won’t sign anything giving anyone even pseudo control over my person.”
James sat down, completely blindsided. “You’re refusing?”
Master Leo started to laugh. “Sorry, sorry.” He waved his hand in the air. “I’ve been waiting to see her reaction since you told me you wanted to be bonded.”
“You knew she’d say no?” James glared at the other man, who looked wholly unrepentant. “Beth, is this because I said no to the collar? I told you, that’s about me, my stuff. I’m trying to tell you that I want to be with you. Only you.”
“I understand. But I won’t sign this.” She looked both worried and determined, the expression making her seem younger than she had a second ago.
“Beth has to protect herself. She’s worth about twenty times what you are, and her major asset is herself.” Master Leo’s voice still held notes of amusement.
James looked between Beth and Master Leo.
“Let me rephrase.” Master Leo held up a hand. “She’s worth about twenty times what your whole company is worth.”
“What?” James looked at Beth. “What do you do? I thought you said you were good with numbers.” Right now she looked like a geek girl computer programmer.
“If I told you, I’d have to kill you.” Her tone was flat but there was a tentative sparkle in her eyes.
“I can’t even tell if you’re joking.”
Beth smiled, showing teeth.
“Seriously, is she joking?” James pointed at Beth while looking at Master Leo.
Master Leo shook his head. “I will tell you that some of our members who have ties to the DOD or any of its major contractors aren’t allowed to go near her.”
DOD—the Department of Defense. “Are you a spy?” James was trying, and failing, to make sense of this new version of Beth.
Her hair brushed her cheek as she shook her head and he had to fight back the urge to tuck it behind her ear and then kiss her neck. The unexpectedly tender urge was not appropriate in this context—they weren’t in a playroom, weren’t actively in their personas as Dom and sub. But he still wanted to touch her, sit with her, talk to her.
Dangerous territory. Especially if she’s a spy.
“No, I’m not a spy. I’m good with numbers. I’m a mathematician.”
“Uh huh.” James didn’t believe that for one minute.
“I’m a consultant—I write algorithms, do some coding.” She shrugged lightly.
“For the DOD?”
“If they pay enough, and if I like the project. Sometimes other employers provide more interesting challenges.”
“Holy shit.”
“Why, what do you do?”
“I co-founded, and co-own, one of the West Coast’s biggest digital security firms.” James tried not to sound defensive.
“Military?”
“No.”
“Oh, that’s nice.”
“That’s nice?”
A little line appeared between her eyebrows. “I’m having trouble understanding your expression.”
“This—” James pointed at himself “—is what it looks like when a man has been thoroughly emasculated.”
She tipped her head to the side and studied him. “Emasculated?”
“Perhaps we could return to the issue at hand?” Master Leo rapped his knuckles on the desk to get their attention.
James opened his mouth, closed it, then ran his hand through his hair. With some effort he put aside what he’d just learned about her, which both made sense and horrified him—not the kind of work she did, but that someone with her credentials has been letting people use her as a footstool. “Let me get this straight—I won’t use a collar, and you won’t agree to be bonded.”
“It seems so.” Beth sat on the arm of his chair.