Chapter 12
Genevieve
“Spill,” Corinne orders, sliding into the chair opposite my desk the next afternoon, crossing her legs and arching her eyebrow expectantly.
I incline my head, and she holds up a hand. “Don’t you dare try to pretend like you don’t know what I’m talking about. We are going to talk about your new client and the fact that he’s sex on legs.”
A giggle tumbles from my lips for a moment before I sober and explain, “He’s the guy from the bar. I ran into him at the gala with Julien, too. He obviously didn’t know who Allison was until I walked into that room.”
Her brown eyes round wider before she shakes her head, clearing her expression. “He’s not a sub, is he? When I told him that you preferred to meet your submissives on their knees, he looked at me like he’d rather be hit by a car than fall to the floor.”
“I think that’s true. He’s as dominant as they come.”
“But you’re taking him on as a client? I saw him on your calendar for tomorrow night.”
I sigh, tilting my head back to stare at the bright white ceiling before admiring the black and gray toile wallpaper, then finally meeting her eye. “I agreed to teach him to be a Dom.”
I told myself that there’s no harm in giving him a crash course. After all, the world could use more good Doms, the kind that don’t treat their subs the way I was treated.
Ultimately, it’s just a few lessons. What’s the worst that could happen? It’s not like I’m going to fall in love with the man. I don’t do that shit. It’s essentially risk-free for me. Right?
My insides twist with unrest, but I ignore the coiling alarm blaring in the pit of my stomach.
“Speaking of Superman, do you think you could schedule a meeting for me with Sloane? I’d like to discuss if she’d be willing to join our lessons.”
“Superman, huh?” she teases, her small, pouty mouth hitching in a grin. “You’re really going to teach him?”
I shrug. Why not? It can’t hurt, but it might help, or at least that’s what I’m reminding myself.
“You’re going to teach him so he can do what? Play with someone else? Or you?”
“He can’t play with me,” I reply, my voice thick. Not even if I want him to.
“And why not?” she challenges, lifting her chin defiantly. If she were my sub, I’d whip her for that insubordination, but she’s not. She’s simply my friend, trying to push me for my own betterment.
“You know why I can’t submit, Corinne.”
She sighs, a gentle smile on her lips, one that tells me she’s about to give it to me straight. “Yes, but what would be so wrong with getting to know him before writing him off? What if you can trust him?”
Tears prick the backs of my eyes at her optimism. She’s always seen the good in the world, and while dancing too close to the inferno has burned us both before, she’s never let it dull her light. It’s what I admire most about her.
I’m far more cynical. When I stepped too close to the fire, I didn’t escape; I fell into the pyre, and the flames engulfed me. I have the scars to prove it, even if I’m the only one who can see them.
“You know that you’re the only person I trust. Marcus is a close second, but it’s just you and me, babe.” I smile at her reassuringly. I didn’t answer her question, but we both know that I won’t. I can’t afford to trust anyone else. The stakes are too high.
She smiles back at me. “Please think about unlocking the vault in your chest for someone other than me and Marcus at some point, okay?”
I nod, guilt and regret wedging themselves tightly inside my throat.
Corinne sashays out of my office just as I get a notification that my next client has arrived.
Shedding my cream top, leaving me in my leather bra, I hang it in the closet in my office and freshen up in the Jack and Jill bathroom I share with my playroom.
When I’m finished, I strip out of my slacks and step into my leather miniskirt and knee-high lace-up boots.
Inside my playroom, I find my sub in the middle of the floor, naked on her knees.
“It’s been a long time since we played, Donna. Remind me, what’s your safe word?” I ask, moving over to the armoire and selecting a flogger.
“Liar, Madam Allison.”
“That’s right,” I tell her, closing the doors. “We have a lot of ground to cover. We better get to it.”