Chapter 3
Three
A week later, Isobel’s family, their partners, and dear friends all assembled at her mother Charlotte’s home for the monthly family-style meal. Her childhood Victorian home had a comfortable familiarity, the heavy drapes and candlelight creating an intimate atmosphere. Isobel sat at the long table with her sisters—Olivia, Ruth, Molly, and Sophie—as well as their partners. Also attending was Brad, Olivia’s long-time friend, and Turk, best friend of Olivia’s fiancé, Jackson. Conversation flowed naturally about recent happenings until Isobel, who had been unusually quiet, spoke up, drawing the room’s attention.
“Hey, everyone, I’ve been working on a really tough case,” her voice cut through the noise. Everyone turned to listen, sensing the seriousness in her tone. “It’s a divorce case with a custody battle. The parents can’t even agree on their child’s cancer treatment.”
There was a collective sigh of sympathy from around the table. Ruth shook her head. “That’s awful. You’d think they’d focus on the child instead of fighting. Is there attorney ad litem?”
Isobel nodded. “You’d think. And, yes, there is a court-appointed attorney. But it gets more complicated. Each spouse has a partner. The father’s girlfriend is an accountant. It’s a two-year relationship. The mother’s is new, as in six months old. Her boyfriend is involved in an adult lifestyle club. You know... the type where they tie each other up, use whips, have public sex, that sort of thing. I have to assess his commitment to the mother as well as the mother’s fitness. I’m concerned because there are multiple police reports at that club regarding drugs, prostitution, drunk and disorderly conduct, and allegations of human trafficking.”
Her words landed like a stone, and an awkward silence settled over the table. Sophie glanced at Molly, who looked down at her plate, clearly uncomfortable, while Ruth’s lips twitched, fighting back a smile.
“I just don’t understand it.” Isobel shook her head. “How can anyone enjoy that? And how could a woman want to be treated like that?”
Brad, who had been quietly listening, cleared his throat. His eyes flicked to Olivia for a brief second before he glanced at Isobel. He gave a slight smile, deciding whether he should wade into dangerous territory.
“Well,” he began carefully, “what you’re talking about sounds like D/s—Dominance and submission. I took a seminar as part of a course at the FBI academy.” He wasn’t ready to explain he’d participated in the lifestyle for years. Olivia knew but no one else.
“There are two types of clubs dealing with the D/s lifestyle. One like what you are describing—a bar where all sorts of activities occur and there are no membership requirements. That kind of club rests in the hands of our vice squad. They walk a fine line between legality and criminality. If that club is in Waverly County, their vice squad has it on their radar, I’m sure. If human trafficking is involved, Ethan has eyes on it.”
Ethan, the special agent in charge of the FBI’s resident agency in Pierre, raised a brow and nodded. “You’re sharing all my secrets, Brad.”
“The other type of adult lifestyle club keeps a very low-profile existence. Membership is screened and vetted. Members sign a contract similar to the contracts signed for athletic clubs, including a non-disclosure agreement. All activities are consensual and safe. All members have regular medical checkups. Condoms are required for all sexual encounters. If participating in any activity, there is a two-drink maximum. Some clubs require zero alcohol consumption. And there are what can be best described as lifeguards throughout the facility.”
Isobel’s eyebrow arched, her curiosity piqued even further by Brad’s extensive input. “Go on,” she urged, leaning forward slightly.
Brad shifted in his seat as he spoke, his eyes lingering on Isobel, a hint of something deeper behind his words. “It’s a lifestyle about respect and trust,” he explained. “It’s not just about physical things like bondage or spanking. The Dominant is responsible for taking care of their submissive, making sure they feel safe and protected. It’s a power exchange, but one based on mutual respect and understanding.”
As he spoke, Brad’s gaze held Isobel’s, his tone softening slightly, almost intimately. “The Dominant’s responsibility is to guide and protect, to make decisions within the boundaries the submissive has agreed to. It’s about creating a space where the submissive feels safe enough to let go, to trust the Dominant with their vulnerabilities. And it’s not a one-way street—the submissive has just as much power in setting the boundaries, limits, and rules. In fact, real strength in these relationships comes from that balance of trust, respect, and honesty. From what you are telling me, the club the boyfriend belongs to is not true to the lifestyle. It’s more like a theme bar.”
Isobel’s breath hitched slightly as she looked up at Brad, her curiosity deepening into something more complex. She could feel the intensity of his words, and the way he was looking at her wasn’t helping. “You mean... it’s not all about being controlled?”
“No,” Brad replied tenderly. “It’s about trust. The submissive yields control because they want to. It’s a gift of trust. And the Dominant doesn’t abuse that—they protect it, honor it. They’re responsible for their partner’s emotional and physical well-being. It’s a lot more than just tying someone up. It’s about connection.
“Everything is consensual. Both people agree to the roles, and, most importantly, they agree to the rules. There's no abuse or coercion here—if there’s no consent, it isn’t D/s but something else entirely, and that’s not what we’re talking about today. If we take a step further and look at the murders, I think, if Dominance was involved, it is an aberration.”
The room had grown unusually quiet as everyone listened to Brad’s explanation. Olivia sipped her wine with a knowing smile, watching the exchange between Brad and Isobel with amusement.
Ruth, unable to resist, smirked. “How do you really know so much about this, Brad?”
Brad didn’t look away from Isobel as he responded, “As I said, I took a seminar, and I’ve read a lot about it. It’s fascinating psychology, really. The lifestyle is more common than people think.”
Isobel sat back in her chair, her expression thoughtful. “I’ve been researching it for my case,” she admitted. “But it’s hard to reconcile what I know now with the context of a custody battle. I mean, how does that kind of lifestyle fit into a normal life?”
Brad’s gaze softened even more as he replied, “What’s considered normal? If you’re looking at whether this boyfriend makes the home for the teen safe and loving, then being a Dominant or submissive can fit into any version of life. It doesn’t define a person. A submissive can be successful, independent, and strong in every other part of their life. The dynamic only comes into play when both partners agree to it. It’s about creating a safe space to be vulnerable. Everyone needs that sometimes.”
Isobel stared at him for a moment. “I guess I hadn’t thought about it that way,” she murmured. “If you have any resources, I’d appreciate them. I want to understand this better—for the case, and for myself.”
Brad nodded. “I can send you some things. It’s a lot more complex than what most people assume.”
Olivia, who had been silently observing with an amused glint in her eye, finally spoke up. “Brad’s a great resource for anything psychology-related,” she teased, leaning into the moment. “But don’t worry, Jackson—he’s never been that kind of friend,” she added, clarifying the nature of her long-standing friendship with Brad.
Jackson, Olivia’s fiancé, laughed heartily. “If anyone was a Dominant, it would be you.”
Isobel glanced between them, half smiling as she raised an eyebrow at Brad. “I didn’t think so,” she teased. “You seem to know a lot about this.”
Brad grinned, raising his hands in a gesture of mock surrender. “Hey, just sharing what I’ve read.”
Ruth chuckled, breaking the tension. “Sure, Brad, just reading for research, right?”
The whole table joined in the laughter, easing the tension that had built during the conversation. Charlotte simply smiled. “I still don’t get it,” the matriarch muttered. “Whips and ropes just sound... so strange.”
Isobel looked at Brad once more, her curiosity lingering as the conversation shifted to lighter topics. As her mother changed the subject to the new wallpaper in the sitting room, Isobel found herself still thinking about what Brad had said. There was more to this world than she had imagined and perhaps more to Brad than she had ever realized.
Brad left Charlotte Everhart’s home, the evening air cool against his flushed skin. The dinner had been more revealing than he’d anticipated, and the conversation still lingered in his mind. He went expecting the usual family banter, but Isobel... Isobel had caught him off guard.
For years, Brad had kept his interest in Isobel carefully locked away. She was off-limits, the daughter of Charlotte Everhart, former deputy chief of Waverly County PD, and sister to Olivia, his long-time friend. His place in their family orbit had always been a platonic one—close enough to be trusted, but never so close as to cross any boundaries.
But tonight, when Isobel looked at him with curiosity, when she leaned in as he explained D/s dynamics, there was something else in her eyes. Not just interest in what he was saying for her case, but something deeper. A glint of intrigue, maybe even desire and submission.
That look shook him. The way her eyes lingered on him as he spoke about trust, vulnerability, and the delicate balance between a Dom and a submissive stirred something in him. For years, he’d kept his feelings buried, but tonight, something shifted.
As he drove away from the Everhart home, Brad’s thoughts churned. He didn’t head toward his house as he usually would after a family dinner. Instead, he found himself driving toward The Loft—the BDSM club where he’d been a member for years. He went to relax and not to indulge in the usual carnal pleasures that drew most people there. He wasn’t interested in casual sex, and he hadn’t had a submissive in the recent past. If anything, his visits were to clear his head and reconnect with the part of him he had largely kept hidden from the world.
Brad parked outside The Loft, his pulse quickening as he stepped out of the car. The club was discreet—no sign or flashing lights, just a simple building with small tinted windows. Inside, though, it was a different world. A world of control and surrender. A world he knew intimately.
As he walked through the door, Jesse greeted him warmly, not expecting him on a Sunday night. Jesse Gentry, owner of The Loft, was a former Delta Force commander and a psychologist who worked at the Blackwell Institute for Trauma, owned by Tristan Blackwell, Sophie Everhart’s fiancé. Jesse had a way of seeing straight through the bullshit.
“Brad, didn’t think I’d see you tonight. Thought you had the Everhart family dinner,” Jesse said, his broad grin evident as he crossed the room to meet him.
“I did,” Brad replied, his voice steady but betraying a hint of something unresolved. “Just needed to clear my head.”
Jesse’s grin faded, replaced with a knowing look. “Uh-oh. Which daughter?” He folded his arms over his chest. He knew the Everhart family, Charlotte—a force in her own right— and her five redheaded daughters. They were well-known in the community, and Brad’s connection to them had always been a topic of casual curiosity.
Brad hesitated, but then the truth slipped out. “Belle.”
“Belle.” Jesse raised an eyebrow. “Isobel Everhart? Didn’t see that one coming.”
“Neither did I,” Brad muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. He hadn’t planned on this—hadn’t planned on letting his feelings out. “It’s complicated.”
Jesse motioned for him to follow as they moved into the quieter part of the club. Faint sounds of activity filled Brad’s ears—a whip cracking in the distance, the low murmur of orgasmic cries—but it was all background noise. His mind was still on Isobel.
“Talk to me.” Jesse leaned against the bar. “What’s going on?”
Brad sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’ve been quietly interested in her for years,” he admitted. “But I stayed away. I’m twelve years her senior. She’s Olivia’s sister, and their family... You can figure out the reasons why. But tonight...”
“But tonight, you saw something in her. You saw submission,” Jesse finished for him, nodding knowingly. “I get it. It happens.”
Brad leaned against the counter, his eyes distant. “I didn’t expect it. She was asking about D/s, researching it for a case. But the way she looked at me when I explained it... It wasn’t just professional interest. It felt like more.”
“Sounds like it could be more,” Jesse said. “You know, sometimes people surprise you. Isobel might be curious about this world. Hell, she might even want it.”
“Yeah, but she doesn’t know what she’s getting into,” Brad replied, his voice tinged with frustration. “I’m a Dom, Jesse. It’s not just some fantasy for me. It’s who I am. And I can’t—won’t—get involved with her if she doesn’t understand what that really means.”
Jesse was quiet for a moment, then spoke. “Look, man, I’ve known you for a long time. You’ve always been cautious. Hell, you barely even play anymore. But this... it sounds like someone’s finally gotten under your skin.”
Brad glanced at him, then nodded slowly. “She has,” he admitted. “But I don’t want to mess things up. If she’s not really into this—if it’s just curiosity, then I can’t... I won’t take it further.”
Jesse studied him for a moment, then clapped him on the shoulder. “Then talk to her. You’re good at that—better than most. She’s a strong woman, Brad. If she’s interested, she’ll tell you. And if she’s not... well, then you’ll know. But don’t not try just because you’re afraid of what might happen.
“Bring her by the club for a visit. We’re having a vanilla meet and greet. Let her meet some folks.”
Brad exhaled slowly, Jesse’s words sinking in. Maybe Jesse was right. Maybe it was time to stop hiding behind the boundaries he’d set for himself all these years. If Isobel was truly interested, then he owed it to both of them to explore what that meant.
“Thanks, man,” Brad said, his voice calmer now, the tension easing slightly. “I just needed to clear my head.”
“I figured as much when you walked in here,” Jesse replied with a grin. “And, hey—don’t be a stranger. We could use a whipmaster around here more often.”
Brad smirked, his mood lifting a little. “You know me,” he said, his tone lighter. “I’m always in control.”
As he headed back toward the main floor, the familiar sounds of the club surrounded him—the crack of a whip, the soft murmur of submission. For the first time in a long while, Brad felt the pull of his own desires, no longer suppressed. He was a Dom through and through, and the need for control and connection ran deep in his veins.
But now, for the first time in years, his thoughts weren’t just on the space he could control within the club walls. They were on Isobel—her curious eyes, the spark of something new, and the undeniable chemistry simmering between them.
Maybe it was time to stop fighting it.